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Dining Out.

I love going out on the town for the night
And having a meal by a soft candlelight
(Because I know, at a restaurant, meals are yummy;
For the food isn't prepped, touched, or cooked by me.)
But to dine with type 1 can be quite complex,
Because restaurant food has a whole set of specs
That require some SWAG'ing; carbs seem to inflate
As you wonder what's really down there on your plate.

"Excuse me, but does the salmon have a glaze?
Is it covered in sugary, caramelized haze?"
I ask of the waiter, tuning in as he states
That the glaze can be brought on the side of my plate.
My soda arrives, and I ask, "Is this diet?"
As I bring the glass up to my lips just to try it.
"It is," he responds, and he watches my face
As I try to assess the fizzy soda's taste.

Moments later, I notice that something is wrong.
I'm not sure my thoughts are where they belong.
My brain is all foggy, my hands feel so weak,
I'm having some trouble with words while I speak.
Did I bolus too early?  Did I miscount the carbs?
Is it something I did to make Dex go on guard?
There are glucose tabs right here in my purse,
But I know that I'll feel better if I have juice first.

My husband is almost up, quick as a blink
To go to the bar to grab something to drink.
But it's not a big deal; I chomp tabs while I wait
For the waiter to come back and fill up our plates.
He comes back for our order, but I'm not quite ready.
My Dex shows my numbers as slightly unsteady,
With double-down arrows beaming; so unkind.
"Can I have an orange juice, if you don't mind?"

I see his confusion. The gears start to grind.
I hear the thoughts churning inside of his mind.
"She didn't want glaze, and her soda was diet.
The bread was right here, but she didn't try it.
What's up with this girl? Selective sweet tooth?
Whatever. My job is to bring her the juice."
He walks off to the bar to bring back something sweeter
While I quickly confirm the Dex trend with my meter.

"Here you go," and I down it in one giant gulp,
Not caring for class, or a straw, or the pulp.
"Thank you so very much," I reply with a smile
And try to regain some semblance of my mind.
My husband distracts me with soft, gentle chatter
While the orange juice fixes the thing that's the matter.
And the moments that pass are quick in real life
But it's hard for him, watching a low change his wife.

A few minutes later, things are as they were.
I'm no longer sounding all drunk, with a slur.
The waiter comes back with his menu pad out
And we tell him the entrees we'd like to try out.
Our date night moves forward without any trouble.
(The waiter's confused, but i don't burst his bubble.)
It's not a big deal; it was just a quick thing.
But it's always a riddle, what diabetes will bring.


Love the rhyme...NOT THE DISEASE! Very cute Kerri!

Very cute. I should read this to the kids I babysit!

Love the posts :)

I love the poem :)

It's so true, when I am low I get so self concious and I wonder if everyone knows and is judging me...when in all reality, no one prob notices a difference.

Great little poem, as a father to a now 20yr old T1 gal, I can relate.

Kerri, your talents know no bounds. :)

Excellent type-
one poem! Loved it! Might make a good song.

Very nice!

Great poem with sentiments that are so true. I'm notoriously bad at bolusing for restaurant meals. Even if I seemingly limit carbs, I still end up high. But I'm afraid to take huge amounts of extra insulin for fear I end up with a foggy brain and weak hands.

My only suggestion addresses the soda issue. I carry Keto-Diastix strips in my purse. Dip it in your soda. If it stays blue, yes for diet. If it turns dark brown, return it. I always think that I can taste the difference, but I really can't. It's a rare occurrence that a mistake is made. But if I'm going to go high, I want it to be from chocolate cake, not Coke Classic.

The Keto-Diastix are double duty, because I can use the same strips for ketone testing.

Thanks to Casabby for the brilliant Keto-Diastix tip for testing coke. I agree, if one is going to go high, it better be chocolate cake. I hunt down the best slice of chocolate cake I can find every year on my birthday. Can't be trusted with a whole cake.

Great post Kerri. Bon-appetit.


Love the poem. It is so true. One time, when I was low the lady brought me french fries and juice, I drank the juice and waited and then ate the fries. Hey it worked for me. And I love the idea of the ketodiastix.

so so so good.

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