We’re in the enviable position of having something in our home most people don’t.

Heated indoor lap pool? No…

Grand piano? No…

A sharps container!


Fall ’16 Collection

In proper feng shui tradition, it sits in our prosperity gua because it’s fiery red and filled with sharp metal things like needles and lancets. (That’s also where we can keep an eye on it so nobody goes playing around with the contents.)

We get extra feng shui mojo points because the container fills up and we have to replace it every few months, so its chi is always moving and renewed. Nothing like a fresh sharps container to brighten the décor, I always say! I’m tempted to add a little bell to the top, or stick it on a live-bamboo water feature. I’m sure there’s something on Pinterest…

Today was replacement day. I took our used medical waste along with a hand’s worth of blood to the only pharmacy around that will exchange it. It costs $9 for this valuable service. I’m not hipster enough to process my own needles. Leave it to the professionals, that’s my motto.

The pharmacist doesn’t bat an eye when I slide the plastic container of bloody sharps across the counter. (I keep it in a translucent plastic bag so she can see what it is, but doesn’t actually have to touch it.)

She’s polite and matter of fact in our interaction.

“Will you be needing another container?”

For a moment, I imagine not needing another one. What would I say?

“No, thank you! My kid is a-okay. His immune system stopped attacking his pancreas, and he’s making 100% of his own insulin now, so… pleasure doing business with you.”

But I’ve learned not to cause confusion with medical care providers, so I accept the same size container and walk out with it. No bag.

I enjoy watching people scatter as I carry an empty bio-hazard container through the parking lot. They look at me like I’m a public menace, and I suppose I am. After all, it’s my kid’s medical waste that needs so much care and attention. I feel like Shrek; kind of ashamed and bad-assed all rolled into one.

Then, I take it home and place it on the altar of diabetes so it can get to work, and I recite this little haiku:

Hungry red sharps box, thank you for keeping needles, off the bathroom floor.

Our family is raising money and awareness for Type 1 Diabetes in the JRDF One Walk on October 1. Click here to support my team!



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