Guess what I now own? My very own glucagon shot. It’s real nifty—came in a sturdy red plastic case with instructions printed on the inside of the lid. Almost like a new power tool from Home Depot.
After six years of being on insulin, my new endocrinologist is the first one who’s ever asked me if I knew what a glucagon shot is and if I had one at the ready. Of course not. That would have meant someone was paying attention, and frankly, I can’t really blame the diabetes educator who gave me my four-hour crash course in how to be a diabetic while I was still under the throes of DKA in the hospital for forgetting to mention it. Or maybe she did and it just went out the window, like so many of the things she was trying to teach me.
Anyway. The new endo arranged an appointment with her RN for me and the husband to go in and learn all about the glucagon shot. Husband got to practice shooting a squishy ball, since he’d be the one shooting me up should I need a glucagon shot. He’s never given me an insulin shot, but he’s given my dog her monthly shot for Addison’s for over a year, so he’s not syringe shy.
Afterward, we went out for breakfast and I had mushrooms with melted cheese and scrambled eggs and toast with just a scraping of grape jelly (not a big jelly fan; only do grape once in a while, and only sparingly; otherwise: gross). Not actually an important part of my glucagon-shot-owning story, but it was a really good breakfast and slightly more memorable than the story the RN told us about her diabetic cat.
So. Me. Owner. Glucagon shot. The prescription says I have 999 refills (not a typo, 999) that are good through July of next year. I’m hoping I never have to use the damn shot, let alone refill it 999 more times.
As always, more to come…