I’ve written about the “diabetes secret handshake” on previous occasions – the externally-visible insulin pump, the furtive-but-public jab of an insulin pen, the naturally-obsessive counting of M&Ms, Smarties, or raisins – or the presence of glucose tablets.

Not that I really need them, but over time I’ve acquired a small stash of glucose tabs at health fairs and diabetes expos.Since another colleague – who works at an adjacent station where he cannot keep “food” – has a history of metformin-mediated lows, I’ve taken to keeping one of those tubes stashed in the unlocked space of my workspace, to be used if/as needed, no questions asked.

My relief colleague started his nights-and-weekends shift a week ago Sunday, and our first hand-off shift was last Monday evening. As I went through the work area, noted what was stored there, I started to mention the stash.

“I know about glucose tablets,” my new colleague interrupted. “I’m diabetic.”

The young, fit gentleman did not fit the stereotypical appearance of a person with Type 2 diabetes, but knowing that not all of us fit the stereotypes of age and body type, it was important to ask. “Type 1 or Type 2?”

“Type 1,” he replied.

“Pump or shots?”

“Shots.”

“Cool. The tabs are there if you need them.”

Glucose tablets. Still another Secret Handshake of the Diabetes Society.

And a colleague in more ways than one.