Expuse Las Burbujas

Bubbles.  In Spanish, burbujas.  They make baths exciting.  Days in the park entertaining.  Hand washing extraordinary.  They make me pissed off.  They can ruin an entire day.  Can you believe it?  Weightless circles that pop?  Yep, they can make my numbers sky-rocket.  Burbujas are not the innocent, clear spheres you thought.

It’s all part of their master plan.  First they take out the diabetics.  The Graves’ disease-ers (not a word…  I get it).  Blind people.  Deaf people.  Babies with colic.  The lucky people with ABSOLUTELY NOTHING AT ALL.  We’re all going down.  Why?  The bubbles.

For diabetics, the spoiled type 1’s we are, bubbles can be the difference from a low number and a high one.  Here’s what they do:

They originate inside the Humalog bottle (a type of insulin), being birthed right there with my synthetic insulin.  They plan their attack as soon as they come out of the womb (whose womb?), and force themselves into the reservoir my mom is filling.  She fights them with all her might (someone told me she was feisty.  I wonder who), personally battling all of them by using brute force, pushing them back into the Humalog bottle.  Some get through, to the other side, power in numbers, and move on to Level 2 of their Seize the D’s (diabetics) attack plan.

Time to make their way to the bottom of the reservoir.  The place where they can hide from Mom, who tries to once again push them out onto a towel.  Dissolve into the paper.  What a gruesome, gory way to die.  Some of them luck out, move on to Level 3 where they can enter my pump.  They are so close to sealing their mission.  They can’t give up now.  Forward is the only way to go.

Once inside Lola, they make their way, slowly, stealthily, across my tubing.  (Um, interrupting here.  But, the tubing is clear.  It doesn’t matter how slow they move, I got my eye on them.)  Their mission: to enter the canula inside my body, at the end of the tubing, and block the insulin.  The insulin that is trying to get into my jelly.  The insulin that will prevent me from being high.  But if the bubbles take their place, then all I’m getting is air, no Frederick Grant Banting insulin for me (look it up!  http://www.nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/medicine/laureates/1923/banting-bio.html...  In short, he discovered insulin, won the Nobel Prize, and was knighted.  Pretty studly, huh?)

Not only do you know about their master plan, but also that they soak me in a Bubble Brain Bath.  They brain wash me to think that they’re not there, which explains why I never check to see if that’s the problem, why I’m high, even though they’ve been the problem a million times before.  It’s not my fault I forget, Mom.  It’s all the bubbles, Mom.   

In this battle, in this round of Seize the D’s, the bubbles won.  Today I was high, and waddya know?  There was a huge, honkin’, queen bee bubble in my tubing.  Great.  They seized me today.  But you know what?  I exposed them and their future attack on the world.  Expuse las burbujas. 

And I know you think I’m super studly with all the Espanol flying around on this blog, but I really just used Google Translate.  L  Shhhhh…  Don’t tell my readers…  I can’t let them find out I’m a fraud.

Ooops.  You just did.  Must be the Bubble Brain Bath.  Or the cheesy Disney films are making me crazy.  Place your bets.