Saturday, August 04, 2007

Living out of a box

I have heard the term before, people say it when they move... "we have been living out of boxes for weeks until the furniture arrives" and such.
But I realized yesterday that some of us actually DO live out of a box, in a different way.
The mail man had come and gone, the dog had his barking fit that lets us know that the mail will soon be here, and after the mailman leaves the neighborhood, he calms down.
But yesterday, as he does sometimes, that dog started in again later, and barked like a freak until I almost wrestled him to the ground.
Then I heard something ruffle by the front door, The kids looked out the window, "THE U.P.S GUY!!!"
We never got a delivery when I was a kid. My parents would never have paid shipping costs for anything.
Once, when I was maybe nine, my aunt and uncle sent me a birthday present in the mail. It was a miss piggy doll, and I was really, really confused about that. They had never sent me a birthday card or anything before, and never acknowledged my birthday ever since. It made me feel funny. I..... I really didnt like miss piggy.
But the with Ebay, and, and all of the other ways you can get goodies over the internet, my kids know the U.P.S. guy by name.
But, yesterday it was a 12in cubed package. That meant only one thing.
And it is always much more fun to open than miss piggy.
Diabetic supplies.
I am always excited to see if the insulin is actually cool, or if it burns my hand... I always inspect and count the infusion sets, and the lancet devices, and the test strip vials, check to see if they all have the same code, so I know if we are going to be able to go a month without recalibrating, (when it works out that way, I always whisper a loud, "YESSSS!" and even my youngest son will hear me and say, "oh are the test strips all the same number again?")
Sometimes I get a surprise, like IV 3000, or more alchol swabs than you can shake a stick at. (like we really use that many ever) and infusion pump syringes... all sorts of goodies.
It is pretty fun. Getting all of the medical supplies, as, I think that people who deal with medical conditions become sort of conissuers of supplies.
But as I fold the box tops back together and set it aside, because we have to get going soon... I think about it.
In this box is everything my son needs to stay alive for one more month.
What if they stopped sending it? What if his insulin was not available? What if the FDA did a recall on insulin, or pumps, or both?
These things.... This box of supplies that I am so happy to open every month is only life support.
And somewhere out there in this world, there is a kid who can't get the supplies he needs, or his insulin is rationed. There is no package, there is no pump, no alcohol swabs to clean his skin so that when he uses an old, dull syringe to inject his insulin, he pushes infectious bacteria into his skin... perpetuating the disease.
Somewhere, there is s kid with no test strips... and no faith that he will have what he needs the next month, let alone the next day.
Puts things into perspective for me, as I carefully put the box aside, and put my arm around my son, and realize that he is one of the "lucky" ones.
And I say a little prayer to all that is good that he stays that way.

1 comment:

Bernard said...


I know exactly what you mean. And I'm looking forward to getting a new insulin pump in the next month or so. I'll probably take a picture of that box!