I have an appointment with my endocrinologist today. Of course I’ll have to bring my meter and Dexcom. The staff will download the information and make a print out. I always dread this. How come I feel like I’m about to go on trial?
Dr. H: I’m looking at your meter test results. They look pretty good, but can you explain this high?
Me: Um, well, you see...
Dr. H: Did you, or did you not, eat nachos that evening?
Me: I do not recall.
Dr. H: Did you make a notation in your log book?
Me: Um...
Dr. H: Did you bring your log book? I would like to take a look at it.
Me: I don’t remember if I brought my log book. I think I forgot it.
Dr. H: You forgot it. A likely story. Perhaps this injection with a needle the width of a baseball bat will refresh your memory.
Me: Nooooo!
Of course that’s not going to happen. My endo has Type 1 diabetes. He's a cgm wearing pumper. He's one of us. A member of Squad D. Dexter the Dexcom was all his idea. In fact, when I read this blog post to him he’s going to laugh. And so am I.
After a long succession of lousy doctors, hearing my endo answer a question with, “When that happens to me I…” always makes me smile. Not only will I be cared for, I’ll be understood. There is no better joy benchmark than caring and laughter.
Oh, and about those nachos…
They were delicious!
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