Instructions Not Included

It's like some diabetes urban legend. Say his name four times into the telephone, and he might appear to you that night...

Do you dare say it one more time?

I did.

See the terror! Hear the horror! It's a tale that will leave you trembling with fear!

Or just deeply, deeply annoyed. For me, it was the latter. 

Something I've heard over and over again from other D-friends is the trouble they've had getting rid of their sharps bins. I've had some trouble myself, but in two years, I had only had to sort out one collection...

until now. (Can't you just hear the dramatic sound effects?)

Not because I don't fill up sharps boxes - because I do. I just don't like to call for mine to get picked up with just one box, so I save them up to try and make fewer collections. 

I know some people can hand in their boxes at their GP's surgery. Some people can hand them in at the chemist. Some people have to take them to hospitals. I've heard all sorts of different variations. For me, I have to have mine collected by specialist waste management. Which I have to arrange via the council. 

Now, the last time I tried to sort this out, I called up the council to arrange a pick-up, expecting to leave my boxes on the doorstep, and for waste management to come and collect. Oh no, no, no. Can't do that. Health and safety, don't you know? Well ok, fair enough. What am I supposed to do then? Well, they collect between 7am and noon, you'll just have to listen for the doorbell. 

Well there are several things wrong with that. Firstly, I have to be at work. I have to keep my holiday days for using to cover my MA classes. I can't be using them for you to collect sharps! Secondly, even if I was prepared to do that, I can't. I live in an attic flat of my landlord's house. I have no access to the front door for entry and exit, and I can't hear the doorbell. So I can't do that. So last time, the Sharps Man and I arranged for me to take my boxes to work, and he would walk over and pick them up. I work in the city centre, and not far from the council offices. Which I appreciated him doing, and that was fine. Everything was lovely. And since he was doing me a favour, I decided I would save up my boxes until there was a reasonable amount, to save him trips. So I have three 5 litre bins that I've used since I started pumping, and three 1 litre bins. That's 18 litres worth of sharps, which I carried over to work, and then made my first call.

This first time round, things seemed straightforward enough. I called on Thursday (18th August), and he said he would come and pick them up between 10:00 and 14:00 on Monday or Tuesday. Everything's good, I'm happy, the world is well.

Until a week later. Still no collection.

Answerphone this time. I leave a message. It's just about to be Bank Holiday weekend. I say that I know no-one is going to pick them up Monday, but could someone please come on Tuesday and get them? This is where I am, this is my name. Thank you very much. 

Then it's the end of Tuesday. Still no collection. It becomes Friday. Still no collection. It's been two weeks by this point. I am annoyed.

Answerphone again. I make it very clear this time that I have been waiting for two weeks now, and I am not impressed. If there is a problem with this, could someone please call me? If not, this is my name, this is where I am, and I do not want to have to call about this a fourth time. I use my stern voice. I consider the matter settled. 

It's 15:00 on Monday. Still no collection. I am royally narked off. I make my fourth call...

Except it's not Sharps Man. It's Sharps Woman on the phone. Sharps Man 'is on annual leave'. I am not impressed, and suggest that in that case, they might want to put a message on his answerphone saying the service is not operational. Apparently it is operational. Then why has no-one called me back, when this is the fourth time I've had to contact them? They don't seem to have a good answer for that one. I tell her that I've been waiting since 18th August. It is now September 5th. I am not happy.

Would I like to arrange a collection? Well, I explain the situation - he was coming to me, I can't leave them at home, because you won't let me do that, and I work during the day, etc, etc. Well it seems that you can't authorise anyone to come and pick them up. Health and safety reasons. I need to take them back home and leave them in a bag on the doorstep.

WHAT?!

So that thing that you told me I wasn't allowed to do, because it was against health and safety regulations, is now the thing you WANT me to do? So, you can't pick them up until a week on Thursday? You won't come and pick them up at work this time? Well, thank you VERY much. I guess I'll have to do that then, won't I, since I have no other way to get rid of them. I do point out how annoyed I am, and though I'm not trying to be awkward, you're making this very difficult and overly complicated. You tell me that you're sorry, of course. Despite the fact you don't seem in the least bit concerned. 

I imagine you think that because it's only 'drugs waste', I can wait. What does it matter to you? What does it matter that I have to jump through your stupid hoops, stressing myself out for something I don't even want to do in the first place? It doesn't matter, of course. It doesn't matter that I'm angry, and upset, and feel like I'm being a huge nuisance. It doesn't matter that I'm convinced that I'll leave those boxes on the doorstep, and you won't take them. For health and safety reasons, I'm sure. 

I wonder if I'll be seeing Sharps Man when I turn out the lights tonight?

I had been looking forward to the summer. Now, please don't get me wrong, I haven't been having a dreadful time, but I have been having a rather busy time. Which is why I've been away since...whoa, April. Yikes.

I've not been entirely silent though. I've recently written a guest post for DiabetesMine, and had the rather lovely experience of chatting with Chris for an episode of Just Talking. In the real world, I've been to a couple of D meet-ups - a lovely London based one with my wonderful friend, Shelley, and more recently I popped my head in (not really for long enough, sadly) to one on my doorstep. I also got invited to do a Q&A for a group of new start pumpers at my hospital (a post on that in the near future, I promise).

With the first year of my MA under my belt, with no scheduled classes for the summer term, I had anticipated having time to breathe a bit, get my thoughts in order. Has it turned out like that? Well, no, not really. Sure, I'm done with the MA until October, but other things have stepped up to fill the void. 

I don't consider myself to be immensely highly strung, or very high maintenance. But in truth, I'm not exactly the most laid back person in the world. I stress. A lot. I get anxious, which doesn't help me in any way, shape or form. Stress and I have a bit of a vicious cycle. I stress, which pushes my levels up. Which means I don't sleep well, which makes me tired and edgy. Which makes me stress more. Which starts the circle all over again. Oh and don't forget to throw in the small fact that my IBS symptoms are mostly stress induced. And round we go, again and again.

So I've been quiet on the whole social media front. I've barely been on twitter, which is normally my haunt of choice. I've not been blogging. But, oh my D-friends, I have missed you. I really, really have. But I had to try and keep a hold on my sanity, whilst struggling with this horrid cycle, working my normal 9-5, and then turning my mind over to the equivalent of a 5-9, which is getting a new company off the ground, and getting creatively and practically ready to go to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. 

So there you go. I've been battling the heat, the ongoing nagging in the back of my mind that I should be trying harder to lose weight after 'chubbygate', the stress, and, if I'm honest, feeling very alone and isolated. But I'm still here. I'm trying - and I've missed you all.