There are few relationships in life more complicated than the one I have with my pump. Some people have their soulmates, their best friends, their dogs — I have my pump. It’s been with me through thick and thin, literally. We’ve shared victories, frustrations, tears, and a weird number of awkward public moments. You could say my pump knows me better than most humans do.
When I say “pump,” people often get confused. Are we talking gym? Are we talking shoes? No, not today. I’m talking about THE pump — my medical device, my little sidekick, my slightly needy, slightly annoying, but absolutely essential partner. Some people call it an insulin pump. I call it my “little hustler.”
At first, I hated it. I mean, imagine being tethered to something 24/7 that beeps, buzzes, demands your attention, and sometimes decides to show off in public. Not ideal. Especially when you’re trying to be low-key cute in the middle of a date and suddenly it shrieks like a fire alarm. (Thank you for that, by the way, pump. Very cool.)
But here’s the thing: over time, I realized that my pump and I? We’re a team. No matter how much I roll my eyes at it, no matter how many times I mutter “ugh, seriously?” when it alerts me at the worst possible times, it’s the reason I’m standing here today, living, laughing, and (sometimes) thriving.
Me, Myself, and My Pump😏 — it’s not just a trio; it’s a lifestyle.
Chapter One: The Awkward Beginnings
I still remember the day I got hooked up to my pump. It felt like stepping into a sci-fi movie. I was nervous, excited, and terrified all at once. Up until then, my life was a daily juggling act of syringes, pens, and finger sticks. The pump promised freedom — “No more injections!” they said. “It’ll make things easier!” they said.
Spoiler alert: they weren’t completely wrong, but they also forgot to mention that wearing a tiny robot on your body comes with its own, uh, unique set of problems.
Like catching the tubing on doorknobs. Or forgetting you’re connected and walking away from your bag, only to be yanked back like a cartoon character. And don’t even get me started on the ‘beep beep’ noises at 3 AM when all you want is sleep.
Still, as awkward as those early days were, something strange started happening. I got used to it. The tubing became background noise. The site changes became routine. The beeping became… well, slightly less annoying.
Chapter Two: The Growing Pains
My pump and I had to learn how to get along.
It’s like having a clingy best friend — one who loves you so much they want to check in all the time. Sometimes it’s cute. Sometimes it’s exhausting. But in the end, it’s always about care. That realization changed everything.
I started treating my pump less like a burden and more like a partner. I began to actually pay attention to the alerts instead of ignoring them. I started learning what different beeps meant without even looking. I started taking pride in good numbers, celebrating the little wins, even when they felt invisible to everyone else.
There were still bad days, though. Days where I wanted to rip it off and throw it out the window. Days where nothing made sense, and my blood sugar acted like a drama queen for no reason. Days where I felt broken, betrayed by my own body.
But through every meltdown, every stubborn high, every frustrating low, there was my pump — quietly doing its best to help me stay alive. Quietly reminding me that even when my body was being chaotic, there was still a system, still a support, still a plan.
Chapter Three: Public Adventures
Having a pump means you accumulate an endless collection of weird public experiences.
There was the time it went off during a job interview, and I had to explain why my hip was making electronic noises like R2-D2. (Spoiler: I got the job. They thought it was cool.)
There was the time it beeped during a movie, and someone shushed me louder than the actual beep. (Chill, Karen. Chill.)
And of course, the inevitable awkward conversations when a stranger notices the tubing and asks if I’m “wearing a wire” or “filming a reality show.”
I used to dread those moments. Now, I kind of love them. Every curious question is a chance to teach someone something new. Every awkward laugh is a reminder that life is weird and messy, and that’s okay.
Chapter Four: Me, Evolved
Here’s the truth: having a pump doesn’t define me. But it has shaped me.
It’s taught me patience — with my body, with technology, with the universe. It’s taught me resilience — how to problem-solve when things go sideways. It’s taught me humility — that even when you do everything right, sometimes things still go wrong, and that’s not a failure.
Most importantly, it’s taught me to take care of myself — fiercely, unapologetically, loudly if I have to. Because my body deserves that care. I deserve that care.
Me, Myself, and My Pump😏 — we’re a complicated little trio. We fight, we forgive, we fumble. But at the end of the day, we’re in it together, for the long haul.
If I could go back and tell my younger self one thing when she was first terrified of being “the girl with the pump,” it would be this:
“You’re going to be okay. Actually, you’re going to be amazing. And you’ll be stronger than you ever thought possible — all because you had the courage to love yourself, pump and all.”
So here’s to my pump — my stubborn, faithful, slightly annoying ride-or-die.
Here’s to me — the girl who learned to dance even with wires.
Here’s to life — messy, beautiful, noisy, and worth every beep.
Me, myself, and my pump 😏 — forever and always.
