Murphy's Law and Diabetes

04/28/08 General

Murphy’s Law states that if something can go wrong it will. I think part of living with diabetes is constantly proving the validity of this phenomenon. I know with absolute certainty that at some point soon, the pieces I’ve tried to put into place will simply crumble around me—and there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s happened before, as you’ll see in the following examples of life with diabetes complicated by the irony of Murphy.

I was newly diagnosed, and roughly three months into this odyssey. My family decided to go skiing for the evening, a pastime we hadn’t ventured into since my D-day. After a handful of runs, we all headed for the lodge for dinner. I found my own, packed with my food and insulin. I took out my meal and then fished for my insulin. Empty space. I discreetly looked in the other coolers. Not there, either. By now my mother has seen what I’m up to, and the realization marred her face.

After a frantic and fruitless search, she turned to me and said, “It’s not here. We must have left it home.” An overwhelming air of guilt clung to her words, and as if in cruel response, my stomach growled in an inappropriately loud squeal. Her eyes watered and I sat with my family. What else was there to do? I couldn’t eat without taking insulin. They ate and I worried that my glucose level would be through the roof when I got home. Thanks Murphy.

A decade later, I was a week away from getting married. I had started using insulin pump therapy. At the time I had two pumps, which at some point require maintenance. This default forces the machines to shut off so that you must send the pumps to the distributor.

It was also the last day of the school year and I was on a field trip with my senior students. We’d just finished lunch and I was about to bolus when my pump vibrated and chimed ominously. I tried to silence it, but sure enough, it was the maintenance alarm, and in a flash, the pump was dead.

I arranged a ride back to my school where I located my backup supplies and injected insulin for the first time in years. I smiled wryly about how much I enjoyed no longer having to do such.

When I got home I immediately set up my second pump, and just as I was about to prime it, the machine vibrated and chimed ominously. The maintenance alarm. I buried my face in my arms and began to cry just as my fiancée came home bursting with chatter about the big day. I looked up and wondered how to begin. Murphy, would you please do me the honor?

I have countless more scenarios about things gone wrong and how I had to make it all work. That’s the constructive consequence of Murphy’s Law—it makes you quick on your feet. Though it’s small solace considering the myriad hoops jumped through. Therefore, be on the lookout for Murphy. He’ll spring up, unwanted and unexpected, and you’ll deal. Then you’ll relax and take solace in your success. That is, until next time.

Eric Devine, 30, has lived with type 1 diabetes since he was 12. He lives in upstate New York with his wife and two daughters where he works as a high school English teacher. Devine is an avid writer and is currently seeking publication of two Young Adult novel manuscripts.