In December my brother celebrated his birthay and as part of the celebrations came over for dinner with 'the fam', bringing with him a friend from work. Chris, my brother, had decided that to celebrate his birthday he really wanted my mother's legendary 'mac and cheese'. It's a corker, let me tell you. It is also a diabetic's best friend, because thanks to the high fat content of the cheese, any carbs in the 'mac' are slowed down from entering the system at their usual lightning speed. So no 20 minute window to adhere to for me. Awesome.
As we all sat down to dinner I started to fiddle with the bolus wizard on the pump, letting out numerous beeps, squeaks and near-inaudible crunching sounds (as the plunger delivers the insulin from the resevoir) as I went. My brothers friend looked over, knowingly. "Tamagotchi?" he asked.
This might be fun.
"Yes, it is", I teased.
Before I knew it he was relaying the story of the time he accidentally killed his sister's beloved Tamagotchi. Apparently, he considered it normal for a 30 year-old woman to be petting her Tamagotchi (that sounds a little, wrong) as we sat down to dinner. It didn't seem to even register that this would be about the weidest thing for those noises to have been. Even weirder than a battery-powered robotic external fake sort-of pancreas.
"Um, actually, it's an insulin pump. I'm diabetic."
As we giggled about Tamagotchi-gate and the fact that he was too polite to point out how weird a hobby that would have been, I smiled and thought to myself: perhaps there really are stranger things in this world than wearing an insulin pump full-time.
Thirty year old Tamagotchi fanciers, for a start.