but then i met my 'new' endo. funny that i like the mechanical device attached to my body more.
this guy was a real piece of work.
classic napoleon complex, on top of his own version of "i have this need to prove that i'm better than everyone."
the resident working under him (pity her) though is super great. she's been very understanding and really makes an effort to tell you how well she thinks you're doing.
get this: she even laughs. at real jokes.
so when this guy walked in the room, all pompous with his chest puffed out, i wanted to stand up and say, " i can see where this is going" even before he opened his mouth. a judgement, i know. but sometimes your gut is nothing but right.
i was really stressed out about the numbers i'd been having. i knew going in that i wanted my basal upped temporarily so i could actually do a real basal test.
i also know my total daily dose, how much was averaging for correction, and how i needed a lower insulin:carb ratio in the morning. but he didn't care about that. he didn't trust anything i said. he wanted to 'figure it out' himself.
so this guy grabs my pump off my pants without asking and starts fooling with it. as he heads to the bolus menu (which is a bit sensitive on the ping, no fear, if you hit too many buttons, it'll just 'bolus' zero, but still...) i start to hear myself saying nooooooooooo! in my head. he kept 'delivering' (zero insulin) but it annoyed me because i could hear the cartridge. i could feel myself sweating.
but the best part: he'd make that shhh sound and put his hand up to stop you when he didn't want you to talk. or, when he asked you a question and heard 'enough' of your response. nice.
then he asked me about carb intake. i said i'm not a carb freak, but that i also don't feel type 1's do very well with high carb bolusing anyway.
he shhh's me, his hand in my face.
"FORGET ALL OF THAT. I DON'T KNOW WHY YOU'RE DOING THAT. IF YOUR SETTINGS ARE RIGHT OR IF YOU'D BEEN BOLUSING CORRECTLY IN THE PAST ON MDI'S YOU WOULD'VE BEEN ABLE TO EAT WHATEVER YOU WANT."
ok, you can stop shouting at me now.
in the end, he regurgitated back to me what i'd tried telling him in the beginning. he stood up, satisfied with himself.
the most upsetting thing about such a visit is your lost sense of dignity and intelligence. this is my disease. i own it. i live with it. to ask me nothing about myself, to care nothing about my responses, my real concerns, my worries is simply...socially retarded if you're a doctor.
as this one wonderful endo once said to me, "it's my job to help you see the forest from the trees." he was also the one who taught me not to have more than 45 grams of carb in one meal. lifesaver.
lately, i've been doing a lot of reading and ruminating on how to speak my mind and heart, stand up for myself with certain kinds of people, and to truly get away from the competitive and possessive nature of many relationships. yesterday, i felt like a failure because he caught me so off guard that i could barely open my mouth. that's a problem with me in general. when and if i finally tell how i truly feel, people either completely ignore me or just attack, never trusting that what i'm saying might uh, actually be how i feel. genius.
while i work on these things, i can at least say this as rule number one:
no one will ever grab my pump off my body like that again.