I like the Silicone Ones

I no longer am afraid of needles. Long ones, short ones, thick ones, thin ones, none of them scare me. My favorites are the kinds that have a silicone lining over them so they can slip out the metal and leave the silicone in me. They are flexible and when I move my arm I don’t have to be careful not to bend it. I think these are best, because at 7 it’s very hard to sit still and now at 22 I still take great pleasure in bending and unbending my arm. As I bend my arm closed a small amount of the IV’s liquid shoots back up the tube and as I release my arm it flows freely forward. I know the liquid shoots up, because with it comes a small spurt of my blood, and the red excites me. I learned early though that it does not excite the nurses and so I can only do this when they are out of the room.
When I first found out I had diabetes I took the insulin shoots my mother gave me in a high pitch scream and then later snuck into the candy drawer when she wasn’t looking. As the drawer emptied she did found out what I was doing, but never mentioned it. Instead she replaced the array of Twix and Milky ways with sugar free candy. Quickly I learned the joy of sin, of sugar, of pushing myself to edge without a care of what it might mean. This did mean frequent trips to the hospital, and lots of questions about where I was getting my supply, but when you’re little and sick, a smile at the right person often proves to be very effective. As I got older I had to find new ways to circumvent authority, but now at 22 no one can really stop me from buying and eating what I want. That is, no one can stop me until I am rushed to the hospital and held for three days as I am hooked to an IV while they struggle to regulate my insulin.
I have always figured out how to get my way. When I was 8 and I felt like punching someone I made sure to pick the biggest girl in my second grade class. I hit her so hard I could feel it run through her body, and I was sure I had hurt her. She merely stared at me, so I pinched her. That’s when her eyes got wide and so I did it again. It felt so glorious to feel her skin between my fingers as I pushed it closer and closer together, digging my nails into the soft flesh. She slapped my hand and I ran to the recess monitor and for the rest of the day she had to sit in timeout. I had won.
I didn’t expect her to grab my wrist as I pinched her the next day and fling me around in a circle before letting me go into the wood siding of the jungle gym. It hurt when I fell, but don’t worry. I was little and small and people felt bad for me. No one was her friend again.
In middle school I often “forgot” my insulin at home, so I would feel sick and tiered and they would send me to the nurse. It was great to feel better right before lunch so I could over eat on sugar and then feel sick again. This only lasted so long before the nurse got annoyed and then angry and then called home. After that I took long and frequent trips to the bathroom, because as I told my teachers, “it’s just too embarrassing to give myself shoots in front of other people.” They would always hesitate, but when I looked down and then up just a little. That’s when I get them, that’s when I would catch their eyes soften and I knew I had won.
By the time I was in high school, diabetes meant I could eat in class. “The glorious advantages to being messed up,” I would say to myself as I chewed through class and watched people next to me eye me with envoy.
Now at 22 I have had to get more creative. Often this results in small lies to guys that turn into big ones as we start dating; “I can’t eat here, they don’t have food that works for me,” “I need this four course dinner, because it has just the right mix to keep my insulin under control,” “I’m too tiered to walk, can we please get a cab?” All things that guys fall for as they look over my thin body, and perfectly placed hair. It’s just so amazing what people will do.