The insulin pump is a fashion faux-pas whose clunky outline forever graces my profile. It either sits on my waistline likening me to an 80s yuppie with my pager in tow (anyone under 25, look it up), or it nestles between the 'twins', occasionally protruding and distorting the shape of my chesticle area. Much to the horror of unsuspecting onlookers.
My CGM sensor usually graces my upper arm and although a great deal smaller, is perhaps even more obvious because upper arms aren't normally fitted with their own on/off switch. Mine is, however.
Cannulas changes happen every two days (the drawback of steel over Teflon). And CGM sensors last between two and three weeks. So paraphernalia-free baths are few and far between. I imagine planets align on a more frequent basis. But now and then, the ducks line up.
You very quickly learn to wash paraphernalia areas with a certain caution, because a knocked-out £50 CGM sensor ruins even the most sunny day, and a pulled out cannula is no picnic. So a day when all landscape is free and clear is a treat not oft-enjoyed, but deeply treasured.
This afternoon as my 18-day CGM sensor expired and my set-change alarm piped up on my phone, I knew what delights would lie in store for me tonight. The water heater is primed to stay on that edge hour for that slightly deeper bath, and my bath bomb has been retrieved from the back of the cabinet.
Between 8 and 9pm tonight, the door will go unanswered.
Do you treasure the paraphernalia-free moments?