Kevin offered to take me out to dinner last night. He's trying to be romantic. I love him very much. I hate eating out.
We went to Golden Corral. I had never been there. I hate trying new places because I don't know what I can eat. At least when we go to Burger King I can pretend like all I really wanted was a cheeseburger and a small diet coke.
Ever the gentleman, Kevin told me to go to the buffet first and he would watch my purse. I wanted him to go first so I could watch and get an idea of what food was located where. Sigh. I walked around the whole buffet (luckily the place was almost empty) to get an idea of what I could eat. You would think a buffet would have lots of choices for a diabetic, but everything I saw had carbs. I finally settled on fried chicken (yes, carbs, but I rarely eat it), broccoli with cheese (little bit of carb) , and a green salad with light dressing (slight carb).
While Kevin went to get his food, I tested my sugar. The dinning room we were in was empty. While I got out my meter, a waitress started cleaning a table behind me.
My sugar was high, so I needed insulin. I'm at the table in the corner. It's sorta dark. I take my shot at the table, in my left arm. I heard the waitress say, 'Oh that's nasty!'
Part of me wanted to snap her head off. I wanted to say, Look, this disease is hard enough to deal with without you making me feel like a freak and I have a perfect right to live like everyone else! Another part of me thinks I should have snuck into the bathroom stall. On the other hand, diabetes is on the rise, surely there are other people like me, why do I have to hide my illness? But I know needles are freaky scary to most folks, I should be more sensitive to others feelings. But she should be equally considerate of my feelings and there was no need to express disgust out loud, nor should she have pointed me and my insulin out to two other servers.
Kevin urged me to go for seconds. Now what? Take more insulin? Pretend like I'm not hungry? I went back for grilled chicken. He asked if he could have dessert and of course I said yes, he's not diabetic. He came back with apple pie and banana pudding. I ate the grilled chicken and sipped diet Pepsi.
On the way home, I told Kevin what the waitress said. I think I made him feel guilty, but we're a normal couple and we should go out to eat sometimes. But I think next time I'm going to insist on a familiar place.