I have been on the pump for over 3 years now and wearing a CGM for 4 months. I am incredibly grateful for both of these little devices for how they help me manage my diabetes. But there's a mental aspect to wearing two devices that has developed into a weird habit: catering to phantom sites.
I've been trying to be really diligent in rotating my sites around my body, which is hard to do on a body that's only 5'2". I've been using my stomach, thighs, and (since it's cooler outside) the arms. At the very least, a site will stay in one place for 3 days (Arnold) or up to 2 weeks (Constance). Once that site is removed, though, my mind still thinks it's there.
Case Example: Getting dressed. Especially if I use my thighs for a site (hello, pear-shapedness), I am really careful when pulling up my pants so as to not pull on the site (sorry, I know this is way TMI). This causes me to do sort of a snake-like dance when getting dressed, shifting my legs from one side and my pants to the other as they go up. All I need is some Indian music and a basket. Or if a site is on my lower stomach, I make sure that my pants don't fold over the site pushing it down further into my skin (ow!). And if I have a site on my arm, I make sure that my bra and shirt don't graze that side of my arm. It's like getting dressed with a cast on that arm. I look like I'm injured, but I'm not.
But over the course of 3 days or 2 weeks is enough time for my mind to automatically do these things regardless if I have a site in that area or not. I caught myself doing it yesterday, after moving my pump site from my arm to my thigh. I was still moving my shirt ever so delicately over my arm so as to not disturb the site that wasn't there. I actually stopped and thought, "What am I doing?! The site is not there anymore. It's on your thigh, Sweetie." Then I proceeded to get dressed at a faster pace, forcing myself to go over my arms while telling myself the site isn't there anymore.
Then there's the times when I graze the edges of hallways or doorways. I immediately stop in my tracks, touch my arm where nothing is there except my fabric and flesh, and think, "Oh fiddle sticks, what was I thinking?" except in a slightly more PG-13 tone. What is going on with me? I fear I am losing my mind!
DISCLAIMER: I am not a doctor, nurse, certified diabetes educator (CDE) or any medical professional of any kind. (But I did stay at a Holiday Inn Express!) Therefore, please do not use any of my postings as medical fact. I am simply a blogger expressing my highs and lows (pun intended) with diabetes. For changes in your medication, exercise regiment, or diet please consult a qualified physician.