Page 71 of New Growth
It was fascinating.
We ate in silence for a moment, but curiosity clawed at me until I couldn’t hold it in.
“El?”
He glanced up from the plate. “Yes, Ellie?”
“Can you tell me how it works?”
His brows inched up. “What works?”
I hesitated, then motioned towards my own upper arm to signal I was talking about the device behind his. He lifted his arm to give me a better view.
“Oh, this? What do you wanna know about it?”
“What does it do?”
“A lot.” El wiped his hands on a napkin, then picked up his phone and unlocked it without caring if I saw his passcode or not, turning the screen to show me.
“See this?” He tapped on an app. A graph filled the screen, a line shifting up and down across the chart.
“This is my CGM. Or Dexcom.” He motioned to the white disc on his upper arm. “And this—” he rolled up his shirt to expose the patch on his stomach “—is my insulin pump. Very expensive, by the way.”
I tilted my head, absorbing the information. “Okay… and what do they do?”
“The CGM tracks my blood sugar all day and sends the data to the pod.” He flicked his fingers toward the one on his stomach. “Then the pod decides how much insulin I need and delivers it automatically.”
I blinked. “So you don’t have to do anything?”
“Not unless my sugar goes crazy or something malfunctions. Then I gotta step in.” He explained, then went back to eating like it was nothing, but I wasn’t done yet.
“Does it hurt?”
He smirked, shaking his head. “Not really. The needles are tiny.”
“How long have you had it?”
“The pod? Six months.”
“How often do you have to change it?”
El finally looked up from his food, amusement flickering in his eyes. “You always this nosey?”
I narrowed my eyes. “I need to know all the details in case something happens.”
He smiled, the amusement still lingering. “Nothing’s gonna happen tonight, I promise. Let’s just watch a movie or something, okay?”
With a deep pout, I let up. “Fine. What do you want to watch?”
He shrugged and said, “It’s your house. You decide.”
I raised a brow. “Well, you’re the uninvited guest. You decide.”
He laughed, deep and easy. “I’m good with whatever you pick, Peanut.”
“Not this highly offensive nickname again.” I groaned.
“What, peanuts offend you?”
