Gross

My daughter is strong. Determined. Beautiful. Awe-inspiring. And she has no idea how to maintain a life without carrying bio hazards around with her.

In other words, she is also kind of gross.

I understand that sometimes we just don't feel like getting off of our butts to throw away the needle that we just used to inject insulin into ourselves. I can even understand not moving it off the dinner table while we eat. I CANNOT understand how it can stay there for more than three days.

Ew. Just ew.

Signs of diabetic slobbery are evidenced all over our house. The syringe next to the computer. The sanitary covers from the pen needle caps on or under the dining room table. The used test strip on the bedroom floor.

Sometimes when M reaches into her kit to give herself a shot, she spends a lot of time digging around in there.

"What are you looking for?" I might ask.

"Nothing. I'll find it," might be the reply.

There is a distinctive sound that emanates from a fanny pack full of used pen needles, their foil protectors, and their safety caps as they are methodically shoved around and pawed as M searches for the one lonely unused item in the bag.

There is a shimmery appeal to the myriad foil wrappers containing used test strips as they cascade from the bg meter case to the floor. Sometimes there are up to thirty of them.

Again, ew.

There is a proper procedure for handling bio hazardous waste. We apply this method when it is brought to our attention that M hasn't been holding up this end of the diabetic bargain.

1)Remove all used needles, lancets, syringes from wherever they are being stored. These, in the medical field, are called "sharps".
2)Put the sharps in a designated "sharps" container. You may purchase official red bio hazard marked plastic containers for this purpose. With all of the perfectly intact plastic containers around, this seems a bit ridiculous. At my dump (no garbage collection in my little New England town), the dump guys tell us to use a sturdy plastic container.
3)Fill up the container, seal it with duct tape, and write "SHARPS" in big letters all over it. In Sharpie, please.

In fact, my dump guys like us to use the new plastic coffee cans with the handles on them. They like us to use them so much, that our dump guys set these canisters aside for us behind the cardboard crushing machine.

Talking to the dump guys is very educational. I learned that some of the residents in our little town just throw their needles in the dump without marking them. Once they had to pick syringes out of a clothing box on site.

While disturbing, I do know that M does a slightly better job than these folks. The sharps do eventually make it to the coffee can. The idea that other people might not be happy to see used medical supplies on their eating surfaces, however, may be forever lost to her. I equate it to the moment I was giving birth. I didn't care who was there, what was going on, or how messy it was, people were just going to have to deal with it.

I wonder if that is how M sees her diabetes. Maybe she figures that if she has to suffer, the rest of the world should have to suck it up and suffer right alongside her.

So yeah, ew.

But maybe also, "you go girl."

Maybe.