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[IP] my tragic lancet story

so i was changing my infusion set yesterday and decided well, it's been a couple of months so i
should probably change my lancet, too, seeing as it was getting somewhat encrusted with dried
blood, pieces of finger, and small scavenger animals. i uncap the finger gun, use the little fun
ejection seat to shoot the lancet into the (full) garbage can, and look in my desk drawer to get a
new one...

...and the box of lancets is empty.

but being a diabetic means there are always lancets floating around in unwanted places, right? i
mean when you're not looking for them you step on them in the bathroom, dig them out from behind
the stove in the kitchen, shake them out from the last clean bra in your undie drawer, so you'd
think i would be able to find one in the nearest personal crevasse, right?


when you need a lancet, your brain sends out an infrared beacon which is detectable by your common
domestic lancet (Lancetus pokeatus) and which warns all lancets in a three-mile radius that you
are approaching with a fingerful of sugar-laden blood. immediately all specimens of L. pokeatus
send out a pheromone signal to alert all L. pokeati in the area and tell them to hide. L. pokeati
then synchronize a powerful photon beam to immediately transport their pokeati brethren into a
parallel dimension, thus rendering them undetectable to even the most sophisticated american spy
technology. the specimens of L. pokeatus in the area apparently engaged this escape mechanism
approximately three seconds before i began my lancet-driven search, and approximately five minutes
after i last punctured my foot on an errant predator lancet. it was by now 6pm. i had a meeting to
preside over at 6:15, and i needed to know whether or not i would eat the floor in the midst of
it. the situation looked desperate. 

so i upturned the trash can onto the floor to look for the old lancet.

though this specimen of L. pokeati was weakened by long years of service in my fingergun, it
nevertheless had enough strength to cloak itself for a good ten minutes while i dug through bank
receipts, packing peanuts, and month-old unpaid parking tickets. when it got too tired to hide
itself, my finger encountered the business end of the lancet. fortunately it was too dull to
actually penetrate the skin; this was not at all reassuring. i rescued the lancet from the
dustbin, carefully washed it off, wiped it with an alcohol wipe, and served it a cup of hot tea
before reinstalling it in my finger gun. i made it to the meeting only four minutes late.

the moral of this story; never change your lancet. ever. you've given it a good home and steady
work for years; why turn it out onto the street now, where its latent wild instincts will only
create a larger feral lancet population problem? i personally apologized to my used lancet for so
callously disregarding its long and loyal service in the stabbing of my fingers, and vowed to
never underappreciate it again. it happily settled back into its rightful place in the diabetic
ecosystem. i then went out for coffee and a donut, but not before digging four lancets out of my
cleavage. the Lancetus pokeatus population in my dorm room is alive and well .

becky =) (dx'd 1/24/92 at age 10, pumping since 11/21/01)

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