I see a lot of posts from my fellow diabetics about test strips found in the wild.  A test strip found on the floor of a cab.  A test strip on a hiking path.  Diabetes trash.  Hansel and Gretel, gone diabetes style.  I never ever see these mysterious, elusive test strips, ever.  If I find a test strip in my shoe, it’s mine.  A test strip in my tights (that actually happened once), it too is mine.  No great mystery around here.

Tonight I was meeting up with a friend.  Two subways should have taken 24 minutes to get me to my destination (yes, 24 minutes).  My first train was delayed and I was going to be late.  I HATE being late.  While I waited for the connecting train, I paced the platform.  I looked down.  Dear non- New Yorkers, this is often the moment you see a rat or mouse on the tracks.  Guess what I saw?  Nope, not a rat.  Nope not a mouse. A syringe!  

For a second my heart skipped a beat.  A DIABETIC WAS HERE!  I grabbed my phone. I felt silly but I snapped a quick photo and then I realized it.  My heart skip knew better too.  That syringe probably didn’t belong to a diabetic.  It wasn’t the tool of my people.  A test strip in the wild = a diabetic has been here.  A syringe in the wild = who the hell knows?

The test strip hunt continues.