on a winter's day
Wishing you all a
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
As some of you know, I have type 1 diabetes, an organ specific autoimmune disease, not to be confused with the more common type 2.
People with type 1 must inject insulin in order to survive. I get mine via an insulin pump.
I've now had this illness for about 33 years and not once during all those years have I thought that I may die from lack of insulin.
I have excellent health insurance, not all diabetics are as fortunate as I am.
Then this happened:
On or about the 6th of December, I submitted my insulin refill request to Walmart Pharmacy, a division of the largest store in the world.
Some time went by, I never received a text that my order was filled, so I called them.
The person who answered told me they were out of insulin. His tone of voice was nonchalant, as if this was no big deal. He didn't know when their order would arrive.
Fortunately, I don't wait until the last minute to reorder, so I have a vial and some leftovers in a few other vials.
But what about people who can't afford this way too expensive medicine? (Fortunately, Lilly who produces the insulin I use will again reduce the price in January 2022.)
Unfortunately, some people need large amouts of insulin every day to just survive, for them, it can get hideously expensive.
You know I'm old now, somewhat wise, so few things make me angry these days.
But the cost of insulin does. It's one of those things that just infuriates me.
Yes, I know there's been talk in congress, but that's it, just talk. I don't have much hope things will change.
What about those people who wait until the last minute to reorder? Because they don't have the money. I'm sure for now, they will find insulin somewhere, but still.
I called back today, December 15, to find out when I could expect to get mine.
The guy said they expect a delivery on the 19th, which is this Sunday.
Exactly two weeks after I ordered it.
That is, if it does show up on that date.
I can't help but wonder if this may be a sign of things to come.
Much has been written lately about supplyline problems. When I read it, I thought mostly about delays in Christmas presents, no new cars to buy, and so on.
Insulin and other life-saving medications were just not on my mind.
It seems inconceivable that a real danger to people's lives could be caused by these supply issues.
Not right now, but eventually.
Not somewhere else.
Today is Sankta Lucia Day in Sweden
Thank you, my friends, for your kind and caring comments on my Samson post.
You are the best, always there in times of trouble.
After Errol died, the three of us, Samson, Faith and I, struggled, but moved on and slowly healed together from our loss.
We were a team, the three of us. Now, Faith and I will be that team.
We have a strong bond, we will be fine.
Thank you, sending lots of love to all of you from Faith and me.
Samson passed away peacefully at the vet's office on Wednesday, while I was stroking his furry head and telling him what a very good dog he'd always been.
Lately, he had some difficulties getting up from my laminate floors, but was OK on the slate floor in the entrance where he slept and from other non-slippery surfaces.
But he was clearly old now. He only could walk short distances and would let me know when he'd had enough.
I took him to the vet to be evaluated, without any hope that the news would be good. Dogs have a way of letting you know when they are tired and done.
The vet tech who took him out of the car, said, "he's tired," without knowing why I had brought him in.
And that's what Samson was. The long, hot, very hot summer did us all in, and Samson suffered the most, even with the portable air conditioner I bought for him. It was just a brutal summer.
The vet found a tumour on Samson's spine and also something wrong with his left hind leg. Not arthritis, something else, I was too upset to listen, but it wasn't good.
I knew, I had to let him go.
He was on the floor, I couldn't hold him, but I petted his furry head and told him he'd been the best dog I had ever known. I told him how much I loved him, tears just kept running quietly, I don't think he knew how upset I was.
It was over so fast. Then he was gone, my furry, fluffy, sweet Samson.
And I only stopped crying because I have to be together for Faith.
She sat by the gate in the dog run all afternoon yesterday, looking for him.
This morning, as I opened the dog door, she ran outside, looking, sniffing, and I have no idea how she felt when she found he wasn't there.
I threw balls for her this morning, I took her for a walk, Jasmine came and that was a great distraction.
Now she's sleeping peacefully by my side here.
Dogs don't stay down and sad for long. Such a good thing.
I will write a tribute for Samson, a memorial, when I feel better.
For now, he was the kindest, sweetest, calmest, most patient dog I've ever known .
Samson's taking a rest and I take his picture.
While it's true photos add on pounds, shadow pictures really pack them on. I, who don't want to lose weight, lost 10 lbs since I last weighed myself. I never weigh myself, so the last time may have been years ago. The reason I did it now was that the lab where I was to have my CT scan asked, so I thought I better give them a true number.
After the first four years at our neighborhood school, those who wanted to attend highschool could change schools. I couldn't wait and insisted I HAD to go to an all-girls school. I don't believe they exist any longer, but they did then, so I escaped my suburban tormentors and bullies for a lovely girls school in the city of Stockholm.