TruSteel Stole My Trust


Today I got an email telling me that my Tandem TruSteel infusion sets are going to be in shortage—lasting through 2026.

For something that quite literally keeps me alive 24/7, that is not acceptable.

This is now the second time in less than a year that a medical supply I rely on has been disrupted.

The first was the oxycodone shortage in the summer of 2025.

Two completely different medications.

Two completely different situations.

But both tied, in some way, to systems that decide what gets funded, manufactured, and prioritized.

And both directly impacting my ability to function.

I’ve lived with type 1 diabetes for almost 33 years.

For most of that time, management wasn’t easy. It wasn’t consistent. It wasn’t perfect.

And the complications from that are something I now live with every single day.

I don’t walk without assistance.

I’m blind in one eye.

My bones can break without warning or trauma.

So when I say that finally finding a routine that works matters—I mean it in a way that is hard to explain unless you’ve lived it.

Infusion sets are not interchangeable for me.

When I was younger, I had a serious issue with a different type of infusion set. It almost cost me my life.

Since then, TruSteel has been the only option I feel safe using.

Not just comfortable—safe.

So hearing that there will be a shortage of the one method I trust to deliver my insulin is not a minor inconvenience.

It’s destabilizing.

The smallest disruption in my care has consequences.

This isn’t about inconvenience—it’s about progression.

It’s about kidney disease worsening.

It’s about getting closer to needing a transplant.

These aren’t hypotheticals for me.

They’re realities I’m already navigating.

When I chose Tandem, I made a decision to trust them.

I put my life—literally—in their hands.

And this isn’t the first time that trust has been shaken.

Earlier this year, my pump failed unexpectedly. I was told a replacement would be delivered within four hours.

Eight hours later, after following up, I was told it hadn’t even been shipped.

That’s not a small mistake when someone is insulin-dependent.

That’s dangerous.

So receiving a generic email about a supply shortage—without real solutions, without urgency, without acknowledgment of what this actually means for people like me—feels incredibly disconnected.

Maybe to a company, this is a supply issue.

To me, it’s my life.

Maybe I’m overreacting.

Or maybe this is what happens when you’ve spent decades trying to stay alive in a system that keeps reminding you how fragile your access to care really is.

I’ve already experienced what happens when essential diabetes care is delayed, denied, or disrupted. I was refused an insulin pump for nearly a decade because my A1C was too high.

That damage doesn’t just go away.

And now, once again, I’m being told that something I rely on to stay stable may not be there.

We deserve better than this.

Not just better communication.

Better systems.

Better prioritization.

Because this isn’t optional for us.


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