Be Prepared

Scar's lyrics have absolutely nothing to do with this post. As far as I am aware, I won't be plotting to overthrow Mr. Turnbull and take over leadership of Australia anytime soon. Although if they continue on with this idiotic idea that we should Americanise our health care system, maybe I might find myself a-plotting. All I can say is, once the pathology companies start charging me for blood tests that I don't even want to take in the first place; my endo is going to have to be satisfied with one single HbA1c test per year.  And she won't get me to do any of those frilly extra tests like cholesterol and kidney function that always get ordered. You want bad diabetic, libs? You got it.

I forget where I was going with this post, because I am definitely replaying the Lion King in my head right now. I know what I'll be watching tonight.

Be prepared. Constant Vigilance. 

Listening to Made-Eye has taught me well (But really, when has anything from Harry Potter not taught me well?).

I keep a spare vial of insulin in the fridge at work. Because CONSTANT VIGILANCE. I take spare needles with me because CONSTANT VIGILANCE. Spare Lancing device. CONSTANT VIGILANCE.

When you're diabetic, constant vigilance works out well. Diabetics are still, surprisingly, human. Humans make mistakes. Some humans might leave home with 2 hours left in their reservoir. Some humans might arrive at work, and find out they didn't remember to bring any extra insulin with them. Or reservoir connectors.

So I am very grateful for all these safety measures that I put in place. The insulin in my office fridge saved me a dash home during peak hour. The pen needles in the bottom of my bag meant I could inject the insulin into the reservoir in lieu of having no connectors.

A spare lancing device meant that when I was coming back from Japan a few years ago now, and my husband dropped and lost my lancing device in a crowded plane, I could still test my BGLs.

Diabetes requires CONSTANT VIGILANCE.

Always

I identify as many things. Type 1 Diabetic. Wife. Daughter. Sister. Team Michael shipper. Nerd. The quintessential 00's emo kid. Metal-head. Adult colouring-in enthusiast (although honestly, I've been printing colouring in pages off the interwebs for years, this new colouring craze just makes my hobby more accessible). Pokemon Master. Fussy eater.

A child of the Harry Potter generation.

It was ridiculously cute when my sister messaged me to ask me if I was ok today. 

Rest in Peace, Alan Rickman.

R.E.S.P.E.C.T

Today as I was browsing along in the interwebs, as one does, I came across an insightful & beautiful article written by a girl who was diagnosed with genital herpes. Although I don't have herpes or any related diseases, I still found myself agreeing with every word she had written about the stigmatisation of diseases such as herpes, HIV/AIDS, and of course...diabetes.

A mere 2 hours later, in a completely unrelated manner, I had a friend throw this picture up on Facebook:

What I'm sure was meant as a self-congratulatory pat-on-the-back came across as insensitive and uneducated on many levels. This picture tells people to be ashamed of themselves if they can't 'say the same'. It offers no chance for explanation (not that any is needed. In this life we live, stuff happens all the time that is completely out of your control). It again reinforces that specific diseases can make us less worthy to be called human beings. Having or not having AIDS does not make you a better person, nor does it increase or decrease your worth as a person. It doesn't change who you are as a person or what you've done, or will do, in your life.

It made me appreciate Elle's article even more.

Even the title of her article gave me the 'I feel you' fuzzies that can only come with knowing someone else out there gets you, however indirectly. Titled 'Why I Love Telling People I have Herpes', I feel very similarly about my T1D. Life and my interactions with others becomes so much easier when my T1D is announced and out in the open. Just like the author, Elle, I had a brief 6 month period where I felt like less of a person, and more a giant cesspool of self-blame, for having a disease that has been so stigmatized as something to be ashamed of. Diabetes is very much portrayed as a lazy persons disease with a very defined description of how hideously awful we are as human beings. I briefly wondered if I would wake up one day and have transformed overnight into the stereotypical diabetic - terribly unmotivated, largely obese and all of a sudden extremely ugly. Safe to say that so far that hasn't happened to me - because so far, diabetes is a disease that doesn't concern itself with how you look or act - It just picks a person and forces them to become best friends forever.

Like Elle, I also get a little kick out of the moment I tell someone I have T1D. Their reaction often opens up a natural conversation about T1D and Diabetes in general and gives me a chance to educate someone about what living with diabetes is really like. Its a chance to change the way we view and think of people with diabetes in a negative sense and hopefully one day, turn diabetes into just another disease that sucks to have, instead of a disease that society says we should be ashamed to have. A chance to reintroduce the human aspect of living with diabetes. I can only hope that if enough of these conversations are going on - by people with all types of diabetes - that there might be a day in the future when I am not asked why I am not fat.

People with Diabetes deserve to have their disease and their own sense of self treated with respect. The current generalised attitude denotes one of shame, avoidance and denial. Whilst we know people in the medical profession are taught the pathophysiological mechanisms of diabetes and its contracture, they too can become prey to this way of thinking that we should do as they say because we brought it on ourselves to begin with. Too many stories of doctors or nurses treating a person with diabetes as a lesser person or someone who needs to be 'controlled' by them, because of the way they percieve us, and our apparent lack of respect for self.

I have self-respect in bucketfuls. Self respect is far deeper a notion than how many minutes you worked out for today or what food you put in your mouth. Self respect is about consideration for your body, and all of its needs, including sometimes, the need to forego looking after one aspect of your health, in order to build up another. Its about recognising that balance between mental and physical health. You can have self respect and be in burn out. To me, self respect is about being able to speak up when people say or do something that doesn't sit right with you - including telling a medical professional that maybe they haven't got it right. Because I respect my body so much, that I do all sorts of unimaginable things to make sure I keep kicking on. Its through respect of my self and my body that I push needles into my skin and lancet my fingers.

We need more Elle's in this world. People who'll tell it like it is, and take embarrasment and shame away from ordinary situations.

Meet Mr. Awful

There are some moments (or in my case, years) of life that you'd rather forget. My biggest regret in life was the degree I received my bachelors in. My whole body cringes when I think about it, and as soon as a thought or memory related to it enters my head, I force myself to think of something else.

One of those gigantic mistakes I don't want to face up to. Not just because the degree was worthless and a waste of all of my HECS money (ohhhh, the HECS money).

But because I hadn't really become 'me' yet when I did that degree. I was miles away from the woman I am today when I did that degree. I hadn't learnt to stick up for myself yet. I hadn't found my passions in life yet. I was just this in this awkward 'post-teen' phase where you don't really know how to be a person and you're kind of testing out what things are like in the adult world. You don't realise that you have the ability to fully control your own future. I would take my emo teen years a million times over reliving that stage of my life. Actually I really liked my emo teen years. MCR and The Used for life. 

Not being me presented a problem. These days I would call myself an over-opinionated, strong willed (yet caring), childish and yet mature woman. Before diabetes and during my degree I was weak. I didn't stand up for myself.

So I cringe when I think of my degree because I inevitably remember all those moments when I should have been stronger. When I think of some of the lecturers and tutors who took their own bitter feelings about an industry that doesn't really exist in Australia out on students. When I got the most awful email I have ever recieved in my life from a lecturer and was told by the administration staff to apologise to that lecturer when I raised it. And I did. Because by that stage I was so close to then end, that I didn't want to jeopardise the freedom from that awful degree that I could almost grasp. Then I found out later that he had acted the same way towards other students and I felt ashamed that I didn't stop it earlier.

I cringe when I think of the lecturer who acted almost openly hostile. It was unfortunate that he was basically the principle lecturer. Someone who offered help and advice only if you pandered to him. And if you didn't pander, made it obvious that he didn't have the time of day for you.

He used to live down the road from me when I was in my final year of university. I ran into him once when I was collecting a parcel from the post office. It was my last semester at uni and I had definitely realised by then how much I hated my degree. He said 'Hello' in an uninterested manner. I replied with "this is awkward" and walked out as quickly as I could. The next time my lease was up for renewal I moved out of that suburb.

I saw him again when I was shopping the other day. He didn't see me. I didn't know if I wanted him to notice me or not. Inevitably, when you see someone after a while, they ask what you're doing. I don't think he would like my answer, but I really want to tell it to him.

I'm doing nothing with my degree. As best as I can pinpoint, I blame my degree for my Type 1 Diabetes. The degree caused me such severe stress that I was regularly passing out from the sheer pressure of completing it. For the last year of my degree I was visiting the PA Hospital for CBT to help with my anxiety. Funnily enough, I never needed to again after I left uni. And Funnily enough, I was diagnosed with diabetes less than 3 months after leaving uni. When I had pressure put on me again to go back and help further with sending out our final grad project to film festivals across the world.

I wanted to tell him that he was part of the reason why I will spend my entire life fighting to keep my blood glucose under control. That if I lose a leg, or go blind, he played a part in that.

At the same time, I didn't want to say that to him. Because I don't hate my life with diabetes. I've accepted that it is part of my life, for all my life. And telling him what an awful person he was isn't going to change anything. It would just dredge up horrible memories of diagnosis, which I am past.

I made the best choice, and I walked away quickly, before he could see me. And really, he's probably been so rude to so many other students since, that he wouldn't have remembered who I was.

New year Cranks

My diabetes plan for 2016 is pretty simple: Try, try, and try again. Educate people, because I became very lax about this last year. 

No sooner had the New Year rung in when ,yep, another crackpot cure pops up in the mainstream media. Please guys, leave these so called 'cures' in the dark ages of 2015 where they belong. There is a reason that we no longer use medieval medicinal techniques. 

So today's farce of a cure? I'm just going to say one word. Herbal.

Teucrium (or Golden Germander), to be exact. The one that happens to be banned for herbal use in several European countries because of it's toxicity...causing heart disease and liver failure among many other pleasant side effects. But never mind that! Because media wants you to know that some herbologist thinks that it might have glucose lowering properties. So we obviously NEED to have a news story, entirely about its use in Type 1 Diabetes. The sad thing is, it was picked up by a lot of Type 1 Diabetics, some of whom I know. People who can usually smell bullpoop a mile away when the word cure is used loosely with the generalised term 'diabetes'...but haven't this time because the entire story was focused on use in Type 1. Friends actually shared this story with me. It was very awkward. There's no polite way to tell people that, even though you know it comes from a place of caring, that they should probably just ask your opinion instead so they can understand why you don't particularly support ideas like this.

News stations should really look at implementing some sort of New Years Resolution to actually do some research and think about who their stories are hurting before they cast them out to the masses. Masses aren't typically very smart. Herd mentality just leads them around in circles, bleating the same useless pseudo-science at each other, until someone becomes convinced and they die.

So the basic gist of it is: Channel 9 picked up on some research going on at Curtin University (note to self: my children will not be allowed to attend this university) that looks at using an extract of Teucrium in pill form as a glucose lowering agent. The researcher basically describes insulin as the devil.  "Unfortunately, insulin injections are not only invasive but can be very dangerous for the user as the exact amount to be injected varies depending on the individual and the meal they consume (not set amount each time)." Yes. Exactly. The amount that needs to be taken is quite variable person to person. Please explain how a pill hopes to keep up with this, I'm very keen to know. You CANNOT vary a pill when you are sick, or stressed, or have exercised more, or your cold or hot or if you wore an itchy orange sweater vest.

Needles aren't the funnest of things, that is true. They do however, keep me alive. You know what's more dangerous than injecting insulin? Not injecting it. I hear being dead can be quite dangerous if you want to continue living. 

Insulin is not the enemy, so stop demonizing it for doing its job and allowing your body to absorb sugar. I am gosh-darn grateful that I have the privilege of sticking a a needle into myself so that I can live. It also happens to be insulin that my body is no longer creating. Not herbs (maybe I missed this in biology). So it just makes sense to me that I continue to replace lost insulin with well...insulin. 

So they plan to extract parts of this herb to pop in a pill. The issues presented so far are: that the solution they have come up with lasts for only half and hour. I like sleep. Blissful, unbroken sleep. I don't even think new parents get up every half an hour. 24 hour insulin with extra shots at mealtimes win hands down. 

The next issue is that the herb works by enhancing insulin production. Type 1 diabetes = no insulin production. No matter how many times you do the maths, 8 x 0 always equals 0. You can't enhance something that doesn't exist.  

At this stage they don't know how the extract works. They don't know the active chemicals. They've done some rudimentary tests on rats who were given diabetes by engineering. It's not the same thing. 

From now on, I'd like to see media attention given to actual accomplishments. When you run 5 minute slots on pseudo-science and crazy hippies who think herbs are going to save the world from Diabetes, you are holding back real research. From real scientists. Who have evidence. And have made stuff that actually helps people with diabetes to live long, happy and healthy lives.  (CGM <3, Pumps <3, insulin! <3 <3 <3). 

Next Departure: Sensitivity

I think there's a lot to be said for proper training in the work place and certain jobs regarding people with Chronic Illnesses. If there's a possibility that you are going to have a conversation with someone about their chronic illness, then you should probably know how to actually have that conversation.

Whether it be that you work in chronic illness, work at a hospital, doctors surgery, medicare, pharmacy, manufacture goods relating to chronic illness, police officer, bus driver or security guard.

For some of these the training required might be less intensive. A bus driver just needs to know that he can bend the rules of the company if the need arises or how to accommodate someone with a chronic illness or disability. They do make allowances for the disabled on a daily basis, and I have smashed a popper down more times than I can count despite the blaringly obvious 'No food, no drink' rule. Thankfully, I have never had to explain why I've decided to chug one down mid-trip. I can only assume that the drivers have received proper training. Or that they've given up completely and are just driving in a mundane stupor waiting eagerly for the end of their trip.

For some, the training is obviously not intensive enough.

I travel quite a lot for work and family matters. My work sees me running patient education days in every state of Australia throughout the year, and my husbands family are settled at seemingly random areas of the country.

I catch a lot of planes. I've got diabetes down pat when I catch a plane. I've got my entire plane routine down pat, from the way I pack my bag to the clothes delegated as travel only comfy clothes.

My travel only comfy clothes, through no particular care or thought, cover my pump. It's not on display. Somehow last week my shirt had gotten all bundled up and tucked in to my pants and my pump was on display as I walked through airport security.

My bag full of syringes, needles, cannulas, insulin and other diabetes paraphanelia got through just fine. I don't think the guy staring at the screen even looked twice.

I did not get through just fine.

I've never been held up for diabetes before.

I walked through the metal detector. It of course, did not go off and I walked forward to collect my bag.

"Is that an insulin pump?" one of the many security guards inquired.

"Yes" I nodded, feeling relieved that he knew what it was, and thinking there wouldn't be questions about why I hadn't taken it off for screening.

"Right. In here." His manner had changed. I was pointed in the direction of a cordoned off area.

"Sorry, why?"

"Just stand in there." I had no idea why I was all of a sudden being asked to move to a different area, away from my husband and belongings.

"Ok. But can you explain what's going on?"

No answer, just a more pronounced motion for me to walk where he wanted me to walk.

I'm used to the 'random' drug swipes that I 'randomly' get selected for everytime (I think they do have a private signal to select you for this when they spot needles/syringes in your bag because it has happened for every one of the 20+ flights I have been on since being diagnosed). I wasn't being told to go to the random drug test guy. I was being told to go away from him.

So I stood in this little cordoned off area, with this security guy glaring at me. I felt like he was sizing me up. I didn't know why. All I knew was that there were no problems until he saw my insulin pump. Which I had a doctors note for. Sitting in my bag that I wasn't allowed to get.

"Ok. Go back through the metal scanner."

"I still don't understand what's going on"

"Just go back through the scanner."

I didn't want to miss my flight, so I didn't argue. So I walked back through the metal scanner. Again, nothing happened, Nothing ever happens.

The guard held up his hands for me to stop before I collected my bags again.

I could see random drug swab guy staring at me and ignoring everyone else who walked past him.

"Ok. Get your bags and walk forward."

I was immediately directed to random drug swab guy. No surprise there. It was obvious by this stage that I was being treated like a criminal because I have diabetes.

My pump was the only thing he swabbed. Nothing came up and I was reluctantly let go.

Without any explanation about why I was treated like I had done something wrong. Without the process of what they were doing ever being explained to me, despite repeatedly asking them. There were 5 security guards in the area. None of them had the bright idea to explain to someone why they were being singled out for having accidentally displayed their chronic illness.

My husband didn't understand why I was upset, because they were just doing their job. I'm fine with them doing their job, which is to stop drugs and weapons and stuff going through the airport. I wasn't fine with the way they acted when doing their job. Clearly, part of their job needs to include some sensitivity training. Airports make me nervous enough without being led away without explanation and asked to stand separately from everyone else. If they had bothered to explain, it would have been a completely different experience for me.

For someone with diabetes, these experiences can have follow on effects in terms of glycaemic control.

Lesson learnt. I will make sure to hide my pump every time I go through an airport now.



_________________________________________________________________________________
Today's reason why I'm hypo:

3 days without incidence. Would it be obvious if I told you the last place I hypoed was at the aiport for my return journey? Because I had anxiety going through security given my previous interaction with them.

3282

Yesterday, I talked about the 'T1D Looks Like Me' campaign which you can access here if you would also like to smurfify yourself.

Today, I'd like to show you what a different aspect of T1D looks like.

A year ago, on WDD2014, I started a collection, of sorts. The 'D365' project. It's not quite complete, but I thought I would share a preliminary look with everyone now that the initial collection is finished.

This is what a year with Type 1 Diabetes looks like:

125 Set Changes. 

125 times I pushed a cannula into my leg, stomach or back. That's  1 cannula every 3 days.

Some of them hurt. Alot. Some hurt for the entire 3 days they were in. We don't have any way to x-ray ourselves & find the nerve clusters before we put each cannula in.

3282

3282 Testing Strips. That's how many times I poked a sharp needle into my finger, hard enough to make them bleed. 

3282, is an average of 252 tests per month, 62 tests per week and 9 tests a day. Even when my fingers ache.

208. The number of hypoglycaemic events experienced. The number of times that my blood sugar was not high enough to sustain life long term and required immediate attention. That's 1 low blood sugar every 1.75 days. Sometimes, you can have 4 in one day, and sometimes, none for a week.

There is no way to predict a hypo (or trust me, we wouldn't have them!).

But in Diabetes land, we have this amazing tool to help us manage our diabetes. It's called CGM.

CGM is expensive. But it can stop hypos. Want to know why I was hypo free for 5 days straight? CGM. 

Think 3282 is an awful lot of pricking & poking? CGM gives my fingers a much-needed break.

I'm not holding out for a cure. I don't believe in one and I don't particularly feel like I need one. I can and do live my life just fine with my T1D. What I do want are the tools to HELP ME live with this disease, day in, day out. Like CGM. And in future, the artificial pancreas, or closed loop system, or the smart insulin patches.


‪


_________________________________________________________________________________

Reasons Why I'm Hypo:

The counter has been reset. I went Christmas shopping.

WDD15

Happy World Diabetes Day everyone!!

Since the start of November, my facebook has been awash with pictures of smiling, happy, blue people. For those who don't know it, November is Smurf Awareness Month. 

Juuuust kidding. There is a reason for the blue take-over.

November is Diabetes Awareness month (and lung health awareness month too....so look that up) and today is WORLD DIABETES DAY!

This year, we T1's have adopted JDRF's campaign: 'T1D looks like Me' - putting a face to what T1D looks like:

There are a great many things that T1D looks like: Test strips, jellybeans, blood and needles. But what I think we're highlighting most is that we are just normal people. Yes, we walk among you, and you don't even know it. Acting like normal people. We eat the same foods as you. Watch the same movies. Go to social events.

Like baby showers (For a diabuddy, but hey). Where you get to eat blue themed food, just to further the spirit of WDD. 

(Yes, that is blue zero-sugar lemonade))

(...and a blue strawberry)

I feel like I filled my quota of blue. What did everyone else do for WDD this year?

_________________________________________________________________________________

Reasons Why I'm Hypo: 

Last Hypo Incident:

5 days since last incident

The Best 10 2 Letter Words You will Ever Hear

'EXPOsing Diabetes', an annual event in Brisbane held by Diabetes Queensland, rolled around on Saturday. I love these events, and recently swapped over from attending them to volunteering at them.

I got the best of both worlds. I got to spend my entire day talking to other people with diabetes. As always, it's a place to feel normal. A place to relax and let my diabetes run free. Well, maybe not too free...

From behind the information table, I briefly wondered, as I stood next to people with fully functioning pancreases, if they ever feel overwhelmed by us at these events. If they stand back a little and wonder how they're going to escape a crowd clamoring over them for information and for the free diabetes goodies on display. Do they feel different?  The odd ones out? Do they think about, and hope, that they'll always be on their side of the table? Do they hear patient stories and sigh in relief that it’s not them?

I don't know why I wondered this. I think because I was on a different side of the table to usual. I was separated from the patients. Usually, I'm swapping stories. But I just listened this time. To a story that was bigger than just my diabetes, one that belongs to many people. It’s the story of people with type 1 diabetes, type 2 diabetes, their families and friends.

We share a great story, simply by living our lives and not letting diabetes stop us. Thankfully, sharing information and enabling self-learning is a part of this story.

It was just before afternoon tea break that I found myself talking to Rob Palmer. A plunge in BGLs had seen me having just scoffed 3 mini muffins in quick succession. He asked how the muffins were and all I could offer up was that as I was cramming them in I had a vague sensation that there was food in my mouth, but I wasn’t aware of having chewed that food or how I managed to swallow it. I really didn’t know what they tasted like, because hypo doesn’t need you to taste things. He pointed at a demolished jellybean packet and said it was from his 2.something earlier.

Later that day I quietly slipped into the back of the Type 1 presentation room to hear Rob address the audience. His scattered story was enrapturing. He was someone whose story the audience ‘got’. He had all the hairy diabetes moments that are part of daily life for us, but he also had the great stories about spending a week on a boat surfing, long days at work and doing it all with a smile on his face.

He rounded it out by passing on the best 10 2 letter words strung together: “If it is to be, it is up to me”. It encapsulated the day perfectly. I love EXPO because it does aim to empower people with diabetes to live their lives to the fullest. Patient education gives us the tools to help us achieve the things we want in our lives.

I don’t have any dreams of being a TV star (I’ll leave that up to Rob, who has a much better personality for it), but I have some good reasons of my own to take control of my diabetes to make sure I can do what I want with life: travel, babies, getting my kellion, throwing old lady tantrums and being buried with all my limbs intact.

He Didn't Let the Quaffle In

I don't really pay much attention to my pump these days. Its just always there and I'm used to that. I usually feel really 'connected' to my pump, but I haven't felt that for a while. I finally figured it out. I haven't named my new pump yet, so I haven't been able to make it feel personal to me yet.

So I had to make it personal. Somewhere, packed away among many boxes in my garage, I have a baby name book. "Why Shouldn't I Call My Son Clint?" was picked up by my husband one day at the Eumundi markets, bought home and packed away for much later use.  I braved the cobwebs in my dark garage, and gingerly opened up boxes upon boxes of books. It took a while, because I spent so long making sure nothing hairy with 8 legs and 8 eyes would scuttle out and up onto my arm. It's a serious and well-formed phobia. The kind of phobia that gets cemented into your soul when you have to pull off a motorway because 8 legs and 8 eyes of the huntsman variety are right next to your face as your driving. After assuring myself that I was not going to get attacked and seriously maimed by anything lurking it was time to choose a name.

I worked my way through the names of the Weasley clan. I'm not sure why I decided that I would call it after the muggle-loving redheads. Maybe I've had too much butterbeer of late. Maybe it's rereading the books and watching the movies for trivia. Maybe it was the paint fumes from my self-made death-eater mask.

Ron -  an obvious choice, but a rather mundane and samey-samey option. My handy name book describes a boring and placid life. Diabetes is anything but boring and placid, so I need a pump name that can keep up with it.
Arthur - "...A funny bastard who has lost his keys. He knew he put them down somewhere but for the life of him he can't remember where." Yeah, this kind of sounds like Arthur Weasley. My pump isn't something I want to chance misplacing.
Percy - Described as a tall fellow, who has risque conversations with women. ...Nope. Just nope. Apparently I need to introduce the author to Harry Potter. One cannot simply use a Harry Potter name with a description that does not fit the character.
Bill - "Sometimes a handshake is all you need to tell you that you like a person.". Agreed. Bill is just flat out likeable. Bill was a strong contender for the name of my pump.
Charlie - Educated. Charlie took too many risks. Diabetes and risks are not good companions.
Fred & George  - I looked up the names, but with no real heart. My diabestie had previously had pumps named Fred & George, and I just thought it would get too confusing.

Nothing really clicked. I chalked it up to being in burnout and feeling too disconnected to aptly name my pump. Then I wondered if I was in burnout because I hadn't named my pump...was the lack of personality that I usually associate with my pump hurting my diabetes management?

I didn't name my pump that day.

I named it 3 days later. When I got a fun, purple package in the mail.

Yep. Someone was listening. Now I need a new life goal because that purple Lenny the Lion case is all mine.

It was the motivation I needed. Funny how something seemingly small can make such difference. I mean, it's just a case. But it was fun, and new, and bubbly and made me feel happy. It gave my pump a face. And a name.

World, meet King.

Weasley is our King.

See him, not letting the hypos in with his smart guard. It fits. It's perfect.






_________________________________________________________________________________
Today's reason why I'm Hypo: I was anxious. For no reason.