I've reached the stage in life where my brain is officially full. Not with useful information or anything which could contribute to a long and happy career, of course. Quite the contrary; I know nothing of politics, science or history, but ask me the theme tune to 'Captain Planet' circa 1991, or what PSSO means in knitting, and I truly come into my own. The problem is, due to being full to the brim with theme tunes, lyrics to every Julie Andrews song and the detailed workings of how to make a strawberry smoothie (it's all in the yogurt), in order for new information to enter I have to go through what is officially (not even a little bit officially) called 'brain leakage'.
When I gave birth to the little three months ago, brain leakage of momentous scale took place. Out went information like how to access my online banking, mathematics and the location of my car keys, and in came how to put on a nappy, the theme tune to Rasta Mouse, and who the hell Macca Pacca is. As a result of this mass leakage, other key knowledge was lost - like why I had previously always packed spare infusion sets wherever I went.
The thing about people living with diabetes is that we are nothing if not resourceful.
It was shortly after lunch I ripped my cannula out today when a careless trouser waist-band re-adjustment manoeuvre took place. I was an hour away from home spending a rare few hours with my best friend, buying bras to fit my post-baby body (see also: small refugee family could camp in the cups...). I was desperate not to go home, but with an abundance of insulin in my possession and no way of administering it, I feared our day together might be coming to the most swift of ends. Unsure of whether or not I would be successful, we hot-footed it to the local Boots, hoping that our foray into the world of well-fitting bras wasn't the end of our fun today, if we could only secure a hypodermic needle.
I explained my predicament to the pharmacist as she asked me questions about which kind of needle I would need. Sadly that information was lost in the official (not official) Brain Leakage of 2013, when I got a new job. But between us we managed to establish that 'nothing fancy' would do.
"Would you like one of the drug user kits?" she asked, helpfully.
Slightly taken aback but glad there might be an option, I rummaged through the kits given out free to intravenous drug users in a bid to encourage safer and cleaner ways of using drugs, if they must. With a veritable Pandora's box of thingameejigees, I eventually came across an individually wrapped hypodermic needle.
"Perfect!", I proclaimed as an examination of the needle showed a clear gauge on the side which I could use to draw up insulin to the correct amount. Sheepishly (but gratefully) I tucked the kit away into my bag, hoping no-one with a knowledge of drug use might see me excitedly fumbling through the kit.
Luckily, the lady in Boots saved my day, and my diabetes, a great deal of hassle. On arriving home I was a happy 4.4 mmol, and pleased that I'd found a workaround for not having been prepared. But having learned today that carrying a spare cannula in my bag is absolutely vital, I only dread to think what else has now leaked out of my too-full brain...