Oh, Ben.

Explanatory note: If you’re the owner/wearer of a continuous glucose monitor or insulin pump, this post will make much more sense to you. If not, bear with me, and I’ll try to explain. Last year, I became the proud owner of a Dexcom CGM and an Animas pump. For humor’s sake, I named my CGM and pump Ben and Jerry, respectively. Through a sensor on my body and wireless communication to a receiver, Ben is able to check my blood sugar every five minutes and alert me to highs and lows. My high threshold is 180 and my low is 80. He beeps twice at 180, three times at 80 and four times at 55 or below. That should be enough back story to understand the rest of the post. Oh, and there’s no volume level for the beeps either.

When Ben and I first got together, I played the game by all the rules. I checked my blood sugar on my meter before dosing, and I checked before eating. I checked before correcting a high, and I checked before correcting a low. (There’s a 20 percent error margin, so in the informational Dexcom video, you’re told to check independently from the Dex to ensure accuracy and correct dosing.)

But Ben and I have been together for about a year now. Like many relationships, we started out with heavy infatuation. I loved Ben very much, and I showed him off to everyone who walked by. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. I found myself checking in with him every five minutes to see if anything had changed. I fell asleep at night staring at him on my nightstand, hoping he wouldn’t wake me up before morning. But as time went on, our love affair became less passionate.

Before long, I wasn’t communicating with Ben like I should. I wasn’t checking in with him throughout the day, and sometimes, I’d forget to set him on my nightstand before bed. I paid close attention to his arrows for direction and guidance, but I often ignored his cries of warning when I hit 80 or 180. We had a brief rekindling when I began cycling. Turns out, he’s a great motivator and encourager on long cycling treks.

But lately, I’m back to barely recognizing Ben or giving him proper credit. I love Ben, and I’m glad Ben is part of my life. But instead of being a life-saver, Ben has become more of a pain in my side. Literally.

My issues with wearing an insulin pump and CGM in the first place were having two sites, thus having two giant “hey, look at me, I have diabetes” signs attached to me. When I wear dresses or jeans, the sites on my legs show. In shirts and snug sweaters, the sites on my stomach show. And even on the (very) random days I give myself the day off from wearing bionic parts, the reminder is still there by way of holes, bruises and scar tissue across my abdomen and thighs.

Diabetes rarely bothers me. I manage it really well, and I keep it in its place most days. I refuse to allow myself “down” days or “sad” days because I know my Savior created me this way for His glory and His purpose. I know that I am “fearfully and wonderfully made” so I choose to focus on that instead of the alternative.

But every once in a while, the thought occurs to me of how nice it would be to wear a swimsuit without any stares. Or to wear shorts without any bruises showing. Or to wear a form-fitting dress without having to wear Spanx to flatten the scar tissue on my stomach. Or to even change clothes in a dressing room without having to detangle price tags from tubing.

I know one day, I will have a perfect body, healed from its shortcomings and failed organs. I will sing and dance and celebrate without any attachments or busted islet cells. But in the meantime, I must remain faithful and true in my attitude and way of thinking. I must remember that “all things work together for His good and for the good of those who love Him,” and that includes diabetes. I must remember that there is “no flaw” in me.

When I have a moment where I consider breaking up with Ben, I remember technology is a gift — a gift that many people would love to have. He is a life-saver, and I am incredibly fortunate to have him by side. So what if he beeps at the most inopportune times? So what if he likes to hide in couch cushions or dog kennels? He is always there, ready and waiting to warn me of dangers ahead. And thanks in part to Ben, I know I have a healthy future ahead.