Do I lay the appropriate blame, or do I try for an Oscar?
It's a tricky line, that. When I'm sitting there at work, doing my best to hold myself together - to not let the impaired motor skills, the emerging sweat, the mind fuzz show - I really want to pretend things are totally okeh. (Not "okay" - because they're not. Just "okeh".) Sitting in that silence, I can pull it off.
But when someone comes up to me, at that worst possible moment - the charade is up. My cover; blown.
"Kim, do you know who these forms go to?"
"...um, I think... 4th floor?" (Everything comes out sounding like a question.)
"Okay... but do you know who specifically?"
"It's... um... maybe, Cassandra? I'mnotsure?"
An in-range Kim could answer that question definitively. With far less vocal fillers. But when I'm not - when I'm that kind of low that makes me want to muffle my CGM receiver in some far crevasse of my purse, and curl up under my desk for a nap - I struggle to string together words, and I just hope that they make any small amount of sense.
There are around 100 people in my building, and I don't want to have to explain to each one of them that heeeey, I've got a low blood sugar right now. Which, oh yeah, means I have diabetes. It's not always a conversation I want to have while my insides are riding some sort of rollercoaster. I just want to get that conversation over with, and move on.
But the risk of that decision is that I likely come across as an airhead.
Which, actually, would be exactly what I need right about then.
***I have not yet heard from Friday's giveaway winner, "Life as an Empty Nester". If that's you, would you please send me an email at textingmypancreas (at) gmail (dot) com with your name and phone number? If I have not heard from Friday's winner by the end of tomorrow (6/21), I'll be choosing a new winner at random from the remaining entrants!