Of Macs and medicine

[admin]

For nearly a dozen years now, I've carried around an incredibly advanced technological wonder of a device, first in a belt-clip holster (so you know how long ago that was, since I'm not part of the khaki-and-tucked-golf-shirt squad) and then in my pocket. Did I have some preternatural, supernatural access to an insanely early iPhone prototype? No. A pocket laser shark, perhaps? If only. No, for the past 12 years, my pancreatically challenged body has benefited from the use of an insulin pump. And for 12 years and over three models from two different manufacturers, those pumps have said diddly-squat to my myriad of Macs or iDevices. Until now.

Back in day, when I was still a kid being shooed off old folks' lawns, my pancreas packed up its Islets of Langerhans, gave me a third-finger salute, and Kevorked itself. I was 20 years old, a junior in college, and—I had wrongly assumed—past the age when heredity would hunt me down and permanently jack my Pop Tarts. For next seven years, I injected insulin in the morning and then followed a ...

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