My Pancreas Hates Me…


I just sat down and ordered myself one of those diabetic bracelets a few minutes ago. This might not sound like a big deal, and you might even ask yourself why I haven’t already done this, after all I was diagnosed back in December of last year. You see, for me I’ve been looking at this disease as a temporary thing (and I still do), but I have always avoided putting that label of “Diabetic” next to my name whenever possible because in a way it’s like admitting that I’ve got something, that I’ve done to myself by the way, that I have to live with for the rest of my life. …And if you know me, I hate doing things like that.

What prompted me to go ahead and place this order? Probably one of the scariest things I’ve had happen since I’ve been labeled diabetic. I woke up last night in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, feeling somewhat weird as I stood up the next thing I knew I was laying in our bedroom floor disoriented, confused, and very very lightheaded. Donna ran and got my testing equipment and sure enough, I had hit my lowest score ever, 58.

We quickly got me some Orange Juice and a Peanut Butter & Jelly Sandwich and I returned to bed an hour or so later and had a non-eventful evening from there on out but this got me to thinking, what if I was out of town on business, or on vacation and no one knew me, or knew that I was a diabetic and my wife wasn’t around. You guessed it, I’d probably be toast, and that’s just not something I want to have play out…