Traveling to Pennsylvania the other day, we stopped for lunch at a fast-food restaurant connected to a gas station. While I was standing at the end of the line, a man and what seemed to be his grandkids came up behind me.
I could see him out of the corner of my eye and I could tell what was coming. The conversation went something like this.
He craned his neck towards me and his eyes bugged out as he ogled my pod, currently located on my right arm.
"I've seen patches before, but that's some patch!"
So I nicely explained (yes, I was nicer than I wanted to be) that it was my insulin pump.
"Is that right?!?" He was astounded.
I knew what was coming next.
"You know, my wife and I both have diabeatus. Type 2. She's worried about this one getting it," and he indicated his grandson next to him who looked to be about 12.
I tried to nod politely as the line moved forward.
"I have the peripheral neuropathy in my legs. They just ache all the time, especially when I sit a long time. I just can't go [places] as much as I used to."
He kept talking and I made the appropriate noises as I studied the menu, trying to figure out what I wanted before it was my turn in line. (Don't you dislike those people who stand in front of a menu for 5 minutes, but can't seem to start their decision making process until they're at the register??)
"Well good luck with your pump. I hope it keeps working for you."
I said, "Thank you," and to the grandson, "You be careful too, keep your carbohydrate intake down and stay active."
I'm not very good at talking to strangers, especially when I'm boarderline low and food is within reach. But I hope that kid remembers and takes care of himself.