T1D Tech Trouble: Over and Over again.

I don’t know if you remember Over and Over by Nelly and Tim McGraw, but wow, that song was everywhere in the early 2000s. What an era! 96.5 played it on repeat—over and over again—until you couldn’t escape it. And, tonight? That’s exactly how I feel. Stuck in this cycle, doing the same frustrating, exhausting thing over and over again.

At least now, I can laugh about it. Because honestly? I need the laugh.

Maybel gets a new glucose sensor every 10 days, unless it falls off, or fails. She gets a new transmitter every 90 days. Procedure is to clean the transmitter and put it in the new sensor every change. Easy peasy!

Maybel’s glucose sensor was set to expire on the 28th. Today is the 26th. That typically means it’s starting to get a little unreliable—totally normal, totally expected. Wonky readings! So istead of battling unpredictable numbers all night, I figured I’d be proactive and change it before bed.

You know, be responsible. Try to get enough sleep.

Well, not tonight.

I removed the old sensor. Took off the transmitter. Cleaned it. Prepped her skin. Applied a new sensor. Attached the transmitter. Started the warm-up. Got the usual Sensor Warming Up message. Two-hour countdown begins.

Then—sensor error.

Okay, annoying, but I troubleshoot. Restart everything. Go through all the steps. After 30 minutes, I have to admit—it’s not coming back. So I take it all off and start over.

Try again.

New sensor, same transmitter, different site. But before I can even apply it, we have to go through the whole prep process again.

Preparing Maybel’s skin for a new sensor isn’t as simple as just sticking it on—it’s a whole process. First, we cleanse the area with a medical foaming cleanser, then wipe it down with an alcohol pad to ensure the site is completely clean. Once it air dries, we apply a skin prep spray to create a barrier that helps protect her sensitive skin. Then comes Skin Tac, which makes the adhesive stick better, and a spritz of Flonase to help prevent irritation from the overpatches. Only after all of this can we apply the sensor itself.

When it’s time to remove the old one, we don’t just rip it off—her skin is far too sensitive for that. We soak the area with a medical-grade adhesive remover, let it sit, and then allow Maybel to gently peel it away herself. Afterward, we clean the skin again, apply ointment if there’s any irritation, and cover it with a bandage if needed. Every step is necessary to keep her skin as healthy as possible, and there’s no skipping corners—because for her, it’s never just “stick it on” or “rip it off.”

We repeat these procedures for her dexcom and omnipod equipment. She's had too many issues and infections to skip steps.

Ok, so, new sensor, same transmitter, different site. Prepped the skin, inserted the sensor, attached the transmitter.

Five minutes into the warmup—transmitter  error. Replace sensor and transmitter.

Be so for real, right now. I'm so done at this point.

Maybel is exhausted. I’m exhausted. But we don’t have a choice.

Thankfully, we have a brand new transmitter on hand (which is rare), so we go for round three. Third sensor of the night, third site on her little body. She’s frustrated, I’m frustrated, and honestly, who could blame her?

Finally, this one seems to be working. But now, we have to wait another two hours for it to warm up. I've been dealing with issues for 2 hours at this point. That means four hours of manually checking her blood sugar every 30 to 45 minutes because she fluctuates too much to just hope for the best.

And just when I think I can’t take one more thing, I lean over to poke her finger—her glucose meter beeps. Low battery.

Because, of course. It’s the smallest thing, but at this point, it feels like the final straw.

I love technology when it works. It makes life easier, safer, more predictable. But nights like this make me hate it. Because when it fails, it’s not just an inconvenience—it’s hours of troubleshooting, redoing things over and over again, losing sleep, and feeling utterly helpless while my daughter suffers through it.

This is just one night. One of many. One on many situations. But for now, I’m just sitting here, waiting, and humming Over and Over Again while wishing Type 1 Diabetes would just give us a break—just for one night.