Guest Post: Why I Always Carry Glucose Tabs.
Today I am wicked (wicked!) excited to have my friend Karen guest posting. (And I love her post. The mental image of the buttons made me laugh out loud - you'll see when you get there.) And once you're done reading, be sure to visit her Bitter-Sweet blog to read about the T1 Adult Outreach Program she's spearheading!
Quite a few years ago my husband Pete and I met up with a group of friends and hopped on a train to spend the day in New York City. We went to Rockefeller Center to watch skaters glide around the ice in front of the huge Christmas tree. We went to the Tkts booth to score half-price Broadway tickets and saw a show. We walked uptown to see the unbelievable toy displays at F.A.O. Schwartz. By the time we made our way to Central Park all of the activity started to catch up with me. I could feel a major low coming on. I reached into my “smaller-than-usual-day-in-the-city” purse and realized I had overlooked a very important item when I was tossing in the stuff I needed that morning.
I had overlooked my glucose tablets.
It seems almost unthinkable that I would head out to traipse around the city all day without having something with me to treat a low. It’s not like I was new to the diabetes thing – I was diagnosed in 1979, for goodness sake! But as we all know, life (and stupid oversights) happen. I certainly am not perfect. And let’s not forget that it wasn’t like I was on some secluded desert island. I was in The Big Apple, where you can buy art-work and pashminas and sunglasses and purses on any street corner. And more importantly, you can buy a large variety of food and beverage items from those street corner venders too.
So at the first food cart we came across in Central Park, I bought a small carton of orange juice at an over-inflated NYC price. My friends sat on a bench with me and I quickly drank the juice down, barely noticing the taste. I waited for my blood sugar to come back up but instead of feeling better, I started to feel worse. My stomach and the juice didn’t seem to want to make friends. I felt terrible and I’m sure I turned positively green! At that point, Pete and I sent my friends along to finish their day in the city while we headed back to Grand Central to take the next train home.
New York City during the holidays is magical. New York City during the holidays when you’re dealing with a seriously queasy stomach is not. The ringing of bells, the bustle of shoppers and the honking of taxis were pure torture as we made our way down the crowded streets to the train station. I tried to be a trooper and I took deep breaths of cold air and told myself I would be fine. And I was. Until we turned the corner to Grand Central and my stomach couldn’t take it anymore.
And there, under a huge red bow tied to a street light, I barfed all of the Central Park vending cart orange juice into a city garbage can. I’m sure I was quite a sight, especially since each retch caused buttons to pop off my pretty cream-colored coat and shoot down the sidewalk. I was mortified. I told Pete that I was sure passers-by must have thought I had too much alcohol rather than a spoiled carton of juice. (Although Pete wisely pointed out that it was New York City, where it takes more than a girl losing her lunch - and her coat buttons - in a garbage can to raise an eyebrow!) My stomach calmed right down once the rancid orange juice was out of my system, but it was still a long and exhausting ride home.
And that is why, from that day on, I ALWAYS carry glucose tablets.
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Thank you for guest posting, Karen, you NYC-garbage-can-puker, you. ;)