Her Code Name Was: The Hypogal

Once upon a time, there lived a girl,a chronic disease, and an insulin pump.

This girl, who did not exemplify a model patient in any sense of the word(despite a recent 0.7 drop in the a1c, whoo hoo!) was especially hard-headed about wearing bodily identification proclaiming an association, however loosely, with that chronic disease. Most of the time, it didn't matter who did, and did not, know. The important people all knew.

One beautiful spring day, as the girl dashed about town doing errands, she pulled into the gas station to top up the o'le tank. After she had finished pumping, she felt the familiar exotic buzz of the legs turning to jelly, signifying an impending reaction. A quick quick of the blood glucose confirmed that to be the case. Predictably, no fast-acting carbohydrate was in the vehicle so she went inside the gas station to buy something. Deciding on a sugar-ish drink that didn't quite taste as disgusting as coke, she picked several bottles up and headed to the counter to pay for it.

"Something wrong?" asked the kid behind the counter.
The girl, confused, set the bottle back down. Did something look wrong?
"What?"
"Something wrong with it? You're looking at it kind of funny."
"No, I'm just looking at the nutritional information."

The kid laughs. "Not much, I'm afraid."
(mental slap of forehead, great response there..)

The girl went back out to her vehicle, drank some of the Vault. Reaction got worse. Meanwhile, she was being closely watched by security's white Toyota Cruiser,
and after about 10-15 minutes they pulled up beside her + motioned for the window to be rolled down.

"Maam, is your vehicle broken down? would you like to call someone?"

"No, I'm having a diabetic moment."

Security looked askance, and quickly backed away. It must be something they do not do, get involved with diabetics having weird spells.The girl drank the rest of the Vault bottle.
This reaction wasn't going away anytime soon.

The shriek of sirens/flash of lights from across the street brought the girl to (what was left of)her senses- crap, did they call out the cop-paramedic brigade on her?
She panicked, started the car, and drove 10 feet to the curb.

10 minutes passed, then 20. Finished 2nd bottle of Vault, the adrenaline shot the blood sugar up (temporarily) to 200's. Ate a sandwich- bolused VERY lightly.(1 unit)

2 hours after treatment #1, the girl's blood sugar was back to normal + she had learned an important lesson.Some people just don't care one way or the other about your medical problems, what matters is if you're impending the revenue flow. Really restores one's faith in humanity. It's not that they should have called for help(obviously, I wasn't passed out yet) it's that they didn't even ask me if I'd be ok, or checked later on. (they didn't care) As I wasn't thinking all that clearly myself, to be able to express myself.One needs all the backup they can get.

She wears that ID now.

The End.