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.