Post For a Stranger.

I sat in the afternoon quiet of the auto shop, flipping through an old copy of TIME magazine and glancing, uninterested, at the pages of the anatomy and physiology text I had brought to my side. The TV was playing Fox news to my left, and I intently studied one of the commercials it was playing on break, laughing to myself at the different examples of social psychology I could identify in the commercial  (Can you tell I've been doing entirely too much studying?

I checked the time. 4:45. I was hungry, and reached down to pull a granola bar out of my bag. I ate the granola bar, then grabbed my blue and orange insulin pen. I did the dosage calculation in my head real quick;

24 grams of carbs is 1 unit / per 8 carbs so 24/8 is 3... 

I opened the pen cap.

The front door bell jingled and a man walked around the corner and sat down. I gave myself my insulin, turning away from him, slightly self conscious. I didn't usually like people to watch me give shots in public. For the most part I always did it and I didn't care, but sometimes I wondered if diabetics had their own etiquette protocol to follow. When people stare at you, perplexed, it puts you on the spot. It makes you feel like you're doing something wrong, even though if they understood better, they'd know that there's nothing wrong with it at all. So I prefer to do it hidden, if I can.

The man does stare. I quickly put the pen away after giving myself the insulin.

"Does it ever get any easier?" He asked, his eyes knowing.

My head swam with all of the replies I could give him. I was surprised that he had asked. Yes, it does in a way, but only because I do it so often, No, I hate doing it just as much I did when I first started, or, It's complicated - I've adjusted but I can't bring myself to just "get used to it", as if mindless repetition is supposed to make having this disease any easier mentally or physically. 

I shook my head as I started straight at him, locking eyes.

"No. It never does."

I was thankful that he had asked, though. I didn't like attention when it came to my shots - but at the same time, it was refreshing to meet someone that even knew what an insulin pen was, that understood and didn't get bogged down in all of the preconceptions of Diabetes.

Granted, the man didn't know much about Diabetes, but he'd been familiarized with it through family members. We had a long conversation about the differences between Type 1 Diabetes and Type 2, and the different lifestyle adjustments that he could make to hopefully reduce his chances of ever having Type 2. He was frightened, because Type 2 ran in his family, but I tried my best to quell his fears. "Watch how much sugar you eat," I told him, which was the same thing I told to everyone. Sugar simply isn't good for you - Diabetes isn't its only bad side effect. "Watch your weight, be conscious of what you eat, and just take good care of yourself."

I also told him a little bit about how my life was like. My eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, actually happy to share my experiences with someone who was eager to listen. I told him about the perplexities of counting every carb I ate, the odd insulin dosage changes that your body could take from time to time, and how I was diagnosed. I told him all of the frustrating things people said to me, and how I hoped that someday there would be a cure.

It was a wonderful experience.

I was halfway through explaining reactive hypoglycemia to him when the man at the front desk told me my truck was ready. I stood up, eager to get back to the apartment to study. I smiled at the man. "It was great talking to you," I said to him.

And I meant it - it had been great. It's people like that that help me to get through the day, giving me a purpose and a chance to explain what I do.

So thankyou. Thankyou, random stranger, for making my day all the better. You'll never know just how much it means to me, but this post is for you.