With guests in our office, we went to the local Mexican restaurant for lunch on a Thursday. My Novolog pen was tucked nicely in the long, front pocket of my purse, which was sitting on the chair next to me. I had tested prior to leaving for the restaurant, so I felt confident that I didn't need to bring my meter with me. We ordered and started munching on the chips and salsa placed on the table in front of us.

I discreetly pulled the pen from my purse in anticipation of my lunch showing up and held it in my lap under the table. One click for the corn chips, one (maybe two?) for the beans, two for the rice. Sigh, the chimichanga is made with a flour tortilla. And cheese. Lots of cheese. I wildly guessed what I should take for the whole shebang.

Back at the office, I struggled to remember what time I had started eating. We'd been gone for about 90 minutes, but I thought it had only been roughly an hour since I took the Novolog.

"Are you ready to meet?" an editor asked me.

"Absolutely!" I said getting up from my desk.

I pondered checking my blood sugar before going into the meeting, but decided against it since it had likely only been about an hour since I ate. Not to mention that I didn't think the meeting would take more than 20 minutes or so.

Not only did I miscalculate the length of the meeting, I also started to second guess my blood sugar situation. Especially when a topic came up that I hadn't anticipated. I was standing up for something I believe in, and while I was letting it all flood out (I don't think anyone, including me, was really prepared for this), I started questioning whether my flushed face and shaky hands were a result of nerves or crashing blood sugar. Sure, I could have excused myself to check my blood sugar, but the momentum of the moment would have been lost. I was sacrificing one part of myself for another.

Fortunately, another editor joined us. She brought in some tiny lemon sugar cookies (oh how I love lemon!) and placed them on the table in front of me. Almost as if she knew I needed a just-in-case boost. By the time the meeting was over and I got back to my office and my meter, I had eaten a number of those cookies-partly to make sure my blood sugar stayed upwards of 60 and partly out of nerves. I was pleasantly surprised to see 142 looking back at me. Which, actually, made me quite thankful for those little cookies.