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We found 10 result(s) that match your search "coworkers":

She flew up the stairs covered in traveling gear and paper bags.
"I brought treats!" she announced.
The last time she traveled to Iowa she brought back chocolates from a local bakery. They were really yummy and mostly devoured by my coworkers and I fairly quickly. One of my coworkers really raved about those chocolates, so it was no surprise when the traveler went straight to her office with a bag of goodies.
When I walked into the room where we normally put public treats, I had, honestly, forgotten they were there. It wasn't the same box of chocolates I thought would have been there. Looking at the box of pastries and plate of cookies I thought I might allow myself a treat anyway.
"What are these again?" I asked to the traveler in the office next door.
Coconut macaroons and some other pastry name I didn't recognize. Not being a coconut fan, it was easy for me to pass up the cookies.
"What exactly is this?" I wondered to the traveler. (READ MORE)

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The sound of salt grains landing on the freshly served tortilla chips sent a look of injustice flying across the table. I watched this confusing exchange of two co-workers as I sipped on a diet soda at my corner of the table. "Did you ask Scott if it was okay for you to put salt over all of the chips?", came from the accusing coworker. I was instantly puzzled and was trying to figure out the punch line of what I thought was some misunderstood joke. I realized he was dead serious when the ensuing diabetes conversation hit the table. (READ MORE)

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When to tell?

 

I have accepted a new job. It's in a new city (half way across the country!!). It's with new people. New people who don't know that I have diabetes.

 

It was during my four-year tenure at my current job that I was diagnosed. I had no problem telling just about everyone in my very small office about diabetes. I already knew them and their personalities.

 

It's different now. I have a problem with going in to the boss on my first day and saying, "Hey, guess what..." I also have a problem with waiting three months until my benefits kick in, or even longer when someone sees me checking my sugar (or doesn't know what to do if I pass out) to say, "Oh, yeah, maybe I should have told you sooner."

 

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Beep Boop Beep.
My pump tells me it’s been two hours since my last bolus and that I should check my blood glucose level.
Beep. I clear the alarm.
I slip a test strip into my meter.
Beep. It is ready for me to drop blood on it.
Beep. The machine starts the countdown.
Beep. 163.
Press the Bolus Wizard button on my pump and enter the number.
Beep. Beep. Beep. I accept the amount of insulin and get it sent on its way. As soon as the bolus amount is finished being delivered I hear one last sound.
Beep.
From the other side of cubical partition I hear, “What is that beeping?”
“Sorry, that’s me and my stuff.”
“Ugh, I kept hearing all this beeping. I thought I was going crazy.” She replied. (READ MORE)

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It's no secret that, at least in the past, I have been very open about my diabetes and the treatments I'm on. I have injected openly in front of co-workers, family and friends; proudly displayed my insulin pump; and told almost anyone who will listen that I have diabetes.
However, I'm starting to put the wraps on that. I'm not ashamed of anything, I'm actually pretty tired of misinformed people and of trying to explain the difference between type 1 and type 2. I do enjoy setting people right (just ask The Mr.!), but I don't want diabetes to be any more of a focus than it already is.
I may be naive, but I believe that my friends, family and co-workers who knew me before diabetes don't see me any differently. I don't believe they take pity on me, I believe they see the same strengths in me--and hopefully more--that they saw before I outted myself to them. (READ MORE)

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I snuck in to the office like I was coming home after curfew. I listened for voices as I climbed the stairs to see if I could figure out where people were and if I was going to encounter anyone at the top.
As I hit the top step I was relieved to see that S. wasn't sitting at her desk. I quickly slunk into my office and plopped the fast-food bag on the floor next to my desk. I hated feeling like I had to hide my lunch, but that's the reality of it. (READ MORE)

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Getting dressed Monday morning I thought to myself that today was the day when my office-mates would finally ask me about diabetes. Over the weekend workers moved our entire 120ish-person workforce from one not-yet-renovated building into temporary quarters in the newly renovated building.

 

As I unpacked my box, I gingerly tacked my "cure diabetes" pin from Beth onto my cube wall near my computer screen, my bag of emergency Jelly Belly's went onto the open shelf above my computer along with popcorn, granola bars, juice boxes and sugar-free cough drops. Something is bound to tip them off, I thought.

 

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Come on, everyone, sing it with me. I don't care if you're at work. Your co-workers will think you're insane. Maybe they'll send you home early.
Peanut! Peanut butter!
(clap clap)
Peanut! Peanut butter!
(clap clap)
Oh, come on! That was weak! I can barely hear you. I know you're singing it in your head. This time out loud and with a little hip hop flava. So what if your boss is one cubicle away from you. It's Friday. I'm sure he or she likes a little ,
Peanut! Peanut butter!
(clap clap)
Peanut! Peanut butter!
(clap clap)
Extra points to anyone who added a little beatbox into the mix. Guilty (raising hand modestly). Extra, extra points for anyone who pulled out a trumpet from under your desk and went all Dizzy Gillespie on it in between verses. Guilty again. (READ MORE)

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So I was at work the other day and one of my co-workers and I had the, "diabetes talk". Let's just say she acted as if she knew all about diabetes. I was sitting there humoring her as she dove into topics of nutrition, exercise, and stress. And right as I was about to completely tune her out and continue what I was doing, she caught my attention with a few words that I HAD NEVER heard associated with diabetes. Chromium Picolinate.
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I know he meant well.
I know he was just curious.
I know he is simply concerned about my health.
But seriously, since when is "So how's your diabetus?" an acceptable question?
It's not like saying "How's your broken leg?" or "Is your cold getting any better?" The status of diabetes doesn't get any better.
I should say, though, that I suspect my friend--whom I had reminded that I have diabetes when he spotted my pump the day before I got hooked up--was really just wondering if the pump was making things easier for me. In fact, he asked as much several minutes later. (READ MORE)

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