“Could I please have a medium iced hazelnut coffee with extra ice and some half and half?”
The barista stopped keying in my coffee order and looked behind her. “I’ve never heard them make that noise before,” she said, tipping her head towards the wall of brewing coffee machines. Shrugging, she continues with my order.
“Okay, that is definitely something I should check on,” she said, turning around again. I realized I haven’t seen her working here before; assumed she was new and getting used to the routine at this coffeehouse.
“No, it’s me,” I said, gesturing towards my waist. “I wear an insulin pump. It beeps sometimes.”
I reached under my shirt and unclipped the pump from my waistband. My blood sugar 176 md/dL, the Dexcom alarm high alarm ringing out from my pump and now my cell phone.
“Oh! I thought I broke the coffee machine or something,” the barista said.
“Nope, it’s me. Broken pancreas,” I handed her my debit card. “I beep from time to time.”