Pink Sherbet Photography

Sometimes I really want my friends to know about my diabetes. Other times, I really hate that they know anything about it at all.

My mom always told me to be open about being diabetic so that my friends would know how to treat lows and what to do in case of emergencies. She's right (why are mothers always right?!?). My friends need to know where my glucagon is in my house. They need to know the symptoms of low blood sugars. My friends need to be prepared for the emergency situations that come about when you're diabetic. (READ MORE)

A man is not dead until he is forgotten. -- African proverb

Saturday night, the vice-president of our Friends of Faire group delivered a well-worded "toast to the immortal memory", in which he named Robert Burns "the Bard of Scotland"  in the way that Shakespeare is "the Bard of England" (not to mention most of the rest of the English-speaking world!). As our festivities were dedicated to a member who had recently and unexpectedly died, her life was also celebrated in this toast, and her passing, mourned.

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"I know diabetes shouldn't be a connection, but it is," M. said as I was telling her about my lunch with S. today.

"But it really is," I said. I knew what she meant. That we should all have better things to be connected by than health issues. But it is what it is.

"You know, whenever I meet someone who rides horses we have that instant connection, even if there's nothing else there's that," she said.

"Yes, exactly," I said, nodding.

I was standing at the entrance to her cube, where I often stand to chit chat with her, discussing how I met S. and how our lunch went.

"We talked a little about diabetes, but... well, it certainly wasn't the focus of our conversation," I said. (READ MORE)

“I’m going to lunch now if you want to join me,” A said as she walked passed my cube.
 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” I said. Fridays during the summer are “early release” here and we were going to happy hour when we got off, so eating lunch early was in my plan for today.
 

Although I typically don’t eat cereal because I haven’t figured out how to correctly bolus for it, it was the only thing that sounded good this morning. Which I of course paid for with a 323 mg/dL post prandial, which was roughly an hourish before A and I headed off to lunch. (Looking back, it must have been more like 90 minutes or so.) 
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