Sometimes, there are just no words to describe the irony of a situation. It’s just too perfect, too fitting, too ridiculous to try and sum up with mere vocabulary. And one of those times occurred on Thursday, the Day of Thanks, just as I sat down to what can only be described as a glorious, decadent, carbohydrate landmine in celebration of our holiday. It was the day the DexCom died. Behold the irony – the full plate, the Symlin ready to mitigate post prandial glucose excursions, the fork at the ready, and the agonizing glow of my DexCom’s last warning:
Yes, just before we raised our glasses to give thanks and embark on the systematic destruction of my blood sugar for the evening, my trusty sidekick and partner in diabetes management kicked the bucket, spewing forth a final “ERROR CODE” message and appropriate matching exclamation point as it choked out it’s final BEEEEEP before waving the white flag of defeat and fading to a blank screen.
DexCom, it’s been real. I’ll never forget our ups and downs and all you’ve taught me about my nocturnal blood sugar issues. You were the real deal man, a partner in crime, a friend in the lonely night, the Robin to my diabetic Batman. I thank you my friend, and now I lay you to rest in peace, via a return package to DexCom Inc, while I await my replacement receiver.
It’s been a good ride.