Freakin' Out!!!

I have a confession to make:  I'm not the most graceful, organized person (please contain your shock), especially when I'm stressed.  And when it comes to the devices of technology that I rely on to keep me alive, I am particularly anxious.  If one of them goes missing, I pretty much become a basket case. 

Yesterday I started a new project at work, which wouldn't be an incredibly stressful thing except I also had my first softball game yesterday.  So I was at a new place and out of my routine--something that diabetics thrive on.  I had already missed my afternoon snack, sending me low in the middle of a lab test, so I was already frazzled.  With 15 minutes left before I needed to leave, I went to the bathroom to change from my work clothes to my softball clothes. 

I was wearing a really pretty peasant dress yesterday that had no pockets.  Arnold was securely tucked away in my undergarments, but Constance would switch from my purse to my jacket pocket so I could keep an eye on her.  In my hurry to get dressed, I put Constance in my shorts pocket when my medical ID got caught on a loose string.  I pulled with one, swift jerking motion and *SNAP* the lobster clasp broke.  "Fantastic!" I sarcastically retorted.  I had this bracelet since my diagnosis, so it was bittersweet to know it was broken (even though it was still sporting my maiden name).  I threw my broken bracelet into my bag, threw my hair into a ponytail, and headed out to my car. 

I called Trey on the way, and he asked if I was going to eat before my game at 6 PM.  "I'm stopping at a gas station right now to get a candy bar or something."  I was about to get out of my car when I reached for Constance in my pocket . . . except she wasn't there!  "Nooooooo . . ." I whispered.  I immediately freaked!  I frantically started going through my gym bag, purse, jacket where she hung out most of the day.  I got out of the car and thoroughly inspected underneath the passenger and driver's seats.  I forgot the candy bar and jumped back in my car headed back to the lab where I just came from.

 I ran back to the lab the same way I came out, scanning the parking lot for my black-colored egg, starting my Easter celebrations early.  I went back to the bathroom where I got dressed and got on the floor looking for my trusty CGM.  I made 2 more loops around the parking lot (I considered this my "warming up" for the game) before giving up and deciding that my poor little CGM was lost somewhere in a dark place, crying and BEEEEEEEPing for me to find her.  I fell back in my car, exhausted and crying, I kept saying "No, no, no!!!" over and over. 

I was already considering making some of these. 

I immediately called Dexcom and inquired how much a new receiver would be.  They told me that since my receiver was still under warranty that I would only have to pay half of its normal value (just FYI if you've ever wondered).  I decided to wait on ordering another one because I'm not the greatest at finding things, especially when I'm running late/stressed/tears running down my face.  I told myself I would wait until I got home and Trey and I could take apart the car together. 

I parked at the softball fields, already running 10 minutes late, I decided to go through the car one. more. time.  I go through my gym bag, purse, and jacket on the passenger's side as well as looking underneath the seat (also note to self:  Holly, clean your car!  Pretty sure I interrupted some dust mites having dinner).  Then I go over to the driver's seat and looked between the seat and the center console . . . and there she was, neatly tucked between the seat belt clasp and the center console department.  I could barely see the familiar opening where the charger cable plugs into.  It was as if I put her there on purpose.  

I pushed my monstrous hands (yes, for a girl, I have big hands) pass the seat and grab my long-lost CGM and actually kissed it!  "Thank you!" I said as a prayer back to God for the many, many "Please help me find it!"s I said on the way to the ballpark.  I breathed a sigh of relief and headed to the field, contemplating using duct tape to tape the receiver to my leg.  Constance showed that I was 153 mg/dL headed straight up (hello, stress). 

So I ended up having a great game, including scoring a nice welt on my left leg from a slide.  I went home and Trey and I ordered me a new medical ID.  All the while I kept patting my pocket every 5 minutes seconds to make sure that Constance didn't decide to fall out again.