Hy-Vee has the seasonal candy out so I thought it would be good to decorate some pancreas ex vivos accordingly. Here’s one to wear right now, when the leaves are perfect.

try to eat colors with your eyes

Here’s one for Halloween.

raw pumpkin = two carbs per ounce

Here’s a more festive and permissive Thanksgiving design.

totally worth a bolus

This is for post-Thanksgiving, during the family arguments.

dry martini got no carbs at all

Here’s one for the jeans-and-a-dressy-top holiday party.

this looks so pretty on you

This is for the rest of winter on the long blue nights that are good for walking.

you gotta walk fast breathe deep in the cold

I mean really good for walking, better than summer. One time I was a research subject in a grad student’s study about weight training and diabetes. He told me if people would exercise outdoors as much in the winter as in the summer, they’d feel great, because your body works harder in the cold. He would say that kind of thing while he handed me barbells and shouted “you can do it!” It was wonderful. He was studying to be a personal trainer. I don’t know where he is now. If he were to get in touch and request a line of stick-on insulin pumps decorated to fire people up for winter walking and healthy holiday eating and responsible martini consumption, and whatever else, for sale at Hy-Vee next to candy corn and Christmas Peeps, I would be game.

Not superhappy with the results of my last big blood test. Thought some color and rhinestones on my pancreas ex vivo might help.

This is my July 6-9 pump after a little wear and tear.

This is July 9-12 right when I put it on, when the marker was fresh. You can’t see the blue-green border but it was beautiful.

This is July 12-15. Every stone stayed in place the whole three days so I think I’m on to something.

This one went on tonight, just now. Bam. Getting used to the staple sound when the needle goes in.

Everyone, you can relax. I know what to wear to really show off my insulin pump.

I found it at a thrift shop right there on the rack with a bunch of regular dresses. It was so beautiful. I couldn’t not buy it. Actually, I didn’t buy it, my mom bought it for me. She’s great. She gets it. I think she might have been thinking about the times I used to get upset in August or so if I didn’t have a plan for what to wear for Halloween. I think she might have been thinking, ok, if she has a plan for what to wear in the afterlife, maybe she’ll calm down.

Like I said, I’m planning to wear it in the current life but it would obviously work in the afterlife as well. Or at a semiformal party with a “saint” or “ghost” theme. So I’m set. I think what would really bring it all together, in any of those settings, is to decorate my pancreas ex vivo as follows.

It’s Saint Benedict. I went looking for a patron saint of diabetes and there isn’t one. Benedict would be a good nominee. He’s already the patron saint of inflammatory diseases and poison. His novena says he taught religious perfection through “self-conquest, mortification, humility, obedience, prayer, silence, retirement and detachment from the world,” and that’s the most romantic way I can think of to look at the daily diabetes checklist. Not romantic-romantic, but it puts a nice intentional spin on things.

So now that’s figured out. I also have these.

I found them the same day at a different thrift shop. Right after I bought them, my mom and I went to get my grandmother from her hair appointment. She’s 91 and her hair is bright white. I carried the shoes inside the beauty shop and showed them around. It didn’t really get the reaction I expected. I expected everyone to be amazed at my taste and say a thing or two about the woman I’d become. My grandmother used to work at a bank. She wore suits, clear hose, triple strands of crystals, the whole deal. Very fancy. Everybody just looked at the shoes, and then my grandmother, who is somewhat hard of hearing, pointed to me and said, “she’s a singer.”

That was sweet. I hadn’t realized she remembered about the band.

But seriously, those shoes would go with anything. I should have shown them the whole ensemble.

I don’t know my grandmother’s shoe size or what kind of timing she has in mind, or whether she has an outfit already planned, but if she’d want to borrow this I would definitely loan it to her. Her hair would look great with it and so would her crystals and whatever else she would bring to the mix. I would keep Saint Benedict for myself, you know, for the future, so that when the time comes I can make the outfit really mine.

For more on the diabetes and martyrdom, check out The Pod and God by Ann and diabetes writer/blogger/big thinker Amy Stockwell Mercer. For your own attire for the afterlife, you can try Frugal’s Vintage Boutique & Salon but I really think I bought the one and only.

This isn’t my real pancreas.

It’s my new fake one. My new pancreas ex vivo.

The manufacturer recommends placement on the upper arm.

Or on the hip.

Where it should blend right in.

In high school I learned that if you had perfect legs, they made diamonds in three places. Above the ankles, below the knees, between the thighs. I learned this from a cheerleader who showed me in gym class. She put her feet together and pointed out how the light came through. I don’t remember where the backlighting possibly could have come from, but I remember the diamonds. I don’t remember if I showed her mine.

Here are my legs two years ago after I fell shins-first down a brick staircase. My shins scarred but the silhouette stayed good. Above the ankles, below the knees, between the thighs. You can really see the light.

I don’t know what the insulin pump manufacturer would say about placement here. I do know what the cheerleader would have said. She would have said, oh wow, weird diamonds. I guess you have four now. Since it was high school, I probably would have said oh wow, Michelle, you know what? I guess you can shut the hell up.

Arm model from the Green Point Market in Cape Town thanks to Scott Fee. Hip model by Henri Matisse, leaded glass by David Hanel. Pancreas ex vivo by OmniPod. For more talk of legs, love, hate, and insulin, visit The Smart Woman’s Guide to Diabetes blog featuring literary/diabetes superstar Amy Stockwell Mercer.