On the Road with the Big D

I travel for business a few times a year and this past week was one of those times.   So, sports fans, I got to experience the new TSA Full Monty Booty Body feel-up pat down techniques up close and personal!

Now, while I am sure there are some over-zealous friskers and overly hysterical friskees, what I experienced was pretty much what the TSA describes on their site.  Going out of town on Monday morning, the pat down didn’t really bother me, but Thursday I was annoyed by it, because it had all ready been a hellish long D day.

I packed 3 insertion sets for my 4 day trip and I’m glad I did.  Tuesday evening was time for a normal site change, no big deal.  Wednesday morning, I was a little higher than normal, I corrected and really wasn’t hungry, so I skipped breakfast.  2 hours later, my levels haven’t even budged so I correct again.  Come lunch time, I’m starting to go up, so time to change it out.  I reach into my backpack, where I always keep my pumping supplies only to realize the ditty bag that contains them isn’t there. Instead, it is setting on the desk in the hotel where I left it the nite before.  So run to hotel, swap site, grab some lunch and head back.  Later that afternoon, my numbers are much better and after dinner I’m good so to bed I go.

Now on to Thursday. Oh joyous, joyous day.  Waking up, I’m at about 180, usually wake up in the sub-100 range, so the diabeety-sense starts to tingle.  I correct and bolus for the breakfast I had and off I go.  Couple of hours later, pushing 300?  I’m all WTF?  90 minutes later, I find myself getting sleepy.  Yep, you guessed, now I’m at 390.  I try one more bolus since I only have one set left.  30 minutes later it’s 450. %@$#^@&.  Pull the old set out, which of course bleeds like a stuck pig.  Put new set in, Rage Bolus and try to finish up work before I need head to the airport.

And as we all know, there is nothing more fun than the Rage Low that often follows a Rage Bolus.  I test before I leave for the airport, 55.  Pissed, I say screw the glucotabs and get a Snickers.  15 minutes later, I’m at 70.  This whole time the Dex has pretty much been displaying WTF? the ???…

Drive to the airport, check in car.  I had just filled it but Avis wants to charge me for a top off fee unless I can show them a receipt.  Gee, wouldn’t want the guy to have to actually look at the gas meter and see it is on full, would I?  Quite the scam they are trying to pull there.

By this time, my tolerance level for bullsh** has reached ZERO.  Inside, I put all my stuff on the conveyor just as I’m supposed to.   Walk to the gate, display my pump to the TSA agent, she motions me thru the metal detector and calls on the radio that they will probably need a male search, before the damn Ping sets the detector off.  While waiting for the frisker, I hear the agent at the x-ray call out “Random” and see her pull my backpack out for a “random” search.    Tolerance level drops to well below zero as I am escorted to identify all my belongings which are then lugged by the agent to the area where I will be “aggressively” frisked.

First I have to handle my pump and then my hands and various belongings are swabbed to be scanned for various residues.  He then comes over and starts to explain what is going on.  I explain that I understand and let’s just get it over with, because I am a bit agitated for being singled out for the sole reason of needing a medical device, not to mention how the rest of the day has gone so far.

He says he understands and imagines that all other device wearers feel the same way.  I guess that was supposed to make me feel better, but somehow it really didn’t.  He then goes on to to tell me that he is required to fully explain the process, so I have to sit there and listen to him tell what I already know, I probably should have explained the process to him before he got started.  By this time, I just have a slightly disgusted, impatient look on my face and make an effort to keep it at that level.

The frisk is uneventful, as was standing there putting my shoes and belt back on, gathering all my stuff and walking past the lines of people who had watched the whole deal.

But wait!! That’s not all!!  I buy a Diet Coke and sit down and start reading, well trying to read anyway.  I finally test again and I am right back at 60, the Dex is showing 75 with a trending down arrow.  Now I’m pissed.  I grab 2 granola bars, loaded with simple and complex carbs and go to town.  30 minutes later, I’m at 180 and the Dex goes off with a Double Up Arrow alarm.  I literally looked at it and went “F*** You”.

I wait another 30 minutes and test, I’m at 230, Dex is showing a level arrow so I attempt to correct.  I’m at 190 as we board the plane to Memphis and 140 when we land.  I ate dinner and landed back in KC at 110. Final-effin-lee.

I understand that the world we live in today requires such measures and I really don’t usually mind submitting to such things if it can stop some cowardly asshat from making the news, but the totality of that day made it almost unbearable.

I probably could have disconnected the Ping, maybe I will next time.  I’m honestly anxious about sending it thru the xray machine, not to mention letting it out of my sight.

The TSA used to have a program where individuals could have background checks run and receive passes to avoid extra security.  Maybe it’s time for something like that for those of us whose health may always get us pulled out of line.