“WaitasecondIcan’tfindmyphone.”

A sentiment that comes tumbling out as one, single word, and impales me right through my social-media obsessed heart.  (Not really my social media obsessed heart, but the heart of someone who is in phone-tether-mode thanks to my littlest Bird, my job, and my diabetes-related discomfort at the thought of being out-of-contact with people who provide emergency medical care, should it ever be required.)

Being prepared is my unofficial mantra, and one I follow through on, according to the size of my purse.  I really try hard to be ready for diabetes needs, child needs, and random needs through the contents of my purse.  (Glucose tabs for lows?  Got ’em.  A pack of gum for when blood sugars make my teeth feel squirrely?  Nailed.  Snacks for Birdzone?  Supplied.  Wallet and keys required for making the car go places?  Yep.  Ubiquitous back-up insulin pen of Humalog that’s hopefully not expired, and CGM receiver, and glucose meter?  Mmmm hmmm.  And a stash of weird items – quarters, plastic green army men, parking receipts for the airport garage, dead test strips, and pieces of chDiabetes Phoneewed gum wrapped up in Dunkin Donut receipts … gross, I know.)

Weirdly enough, if I was away from home and didn’t have my insulin pump attached, I wouldn’t panic.  I would test my blood sugar and, depending on how long I was going to be out, would make decisions whether or not to make use of the insulin pen.

But if I left without my phone?  A cold, icy wave of panic would wash over me, that same feeling that happens when  I pass a police officer speed trap sitting under the overpass on Interstate 95 and I spend the next minute with weak knees and that frantic “Am I about to get a $385 speeding ticket?” feeling.

“OMGMYPHONE.”

I need a priorities detox.

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