Tuesday afternoon I had a taste for a heavy Subway jones. The Cold Cut Combo; Italian bread, provolone cheese, everything on it (no cucumbers, no olives, double the jalapeños). Before diabetes I ate the foot long. Since diabetes I eat the six inch. No side stuff, no sweet drink. But that's okay because I only do this once in awhile. I up and I'm headed for town.
I've got an Bayour Contour survival kit that stays in my car. Should there be a time that I want to check my BG when I'm out…I have it with me. The thing I like about it is it's got the lancet device attached to it and the strips are inside the meter in a drum. If I only had one hand I could use this meter. Well, if I only had one hand I couldn't test the hand I was holding the meter with…but you get the idea. Now this meter works by just a slight movement of a button on its face. When you move the button it spits out a strip and beeps…whether it's intentional…or not.
I pull up to a stoplight in town, put car in neutral, because this is one of those long stop lights and start thinking about building my sandwich and how it's going to make me feel like I just had sex after the last bite goes down. Thinking about buying the sandwich…I question myself as to whether I remembered to bring my wallet. Now my dang meter goes off. I figure, what the heck, why waste a test strip so I pull out the meter, cock the lancet device, prick my thumb and test the blood. 4 seconds later the results pop up on the meter and I end up waiving it around in front of my face trying to read the numbers. Can't read 'em, too much sun, so I just eject the strip, stick the meter back in the kit…and the light turns green.
As I cross the street a sheriff's car lights me up. Nuthin' new, these guys light you up just hoping things aren't right with you. I pull over next to the curb and start gettin' out my license, registration, and proof of insurance. I'm hoping this guy asks me if I know why he pulled me over…because my usual answer when they do this is, "…because you thought I had donuts in my car?" Not the case this time. He walks up, stops an arms distance away and says, "You know, you can't talk on a cell phone and drive in New York anymore." What? "WHAT?" "You cannot talk on a cell phone anymore." "Yeah, okay, I got that. Where do you get me talking on a cell phone? "I saw you talking or texting on a cell phone when you were at the stoplight…I was right behind you." "No, no! Listen, I'm goin' into my survival kit. and pulling out what I had in my hand. Please…don't shoot me, okay?!" "Okay."
I pull out my trusty Bayour Contour meter and hold it out in front of him. "What is that?", he asks. "It's a blood glucose testing meter. I use it to test my blood sugars. I'm diabetic." "You can't talk on it?", he asks. "No."…and I hand it to him. He looks at it for a second and then hands it back. "What were you doing with it while you were waiting for the light to change?" I explain to him how it went off and since the test strips are about $1 a pop…I decided to go ahead and test. He looks at me for a second then says, "Okay then, I'll have to give you a ticket for "testing while driving". It's the same fine as "texting while driving". "No WAY! You're kiddin' me, right?" There's a long pause while we look each other in the eye…and he says, "Yeah…I'm f*ckin' with ya'! he walks off, gets back in his unit and drives away. WTF
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