I think in the past I...and not Joe ... have done the blood sugar checking in potentially bio-hazard-y situations.
The checker~outer~bagger~guy was eye-ing Joe. Joe had found me in checkout lane #8. "Mom...I feeeEEEL LOw." I know that climbing and descending octave voice. It is Joe's low voice. I could not reach Joe, as I was pinned-in my lane by the shopping cart. I tossed Woodchuck (Joe's diabetes supply bag) over to checkout lane #7 and instructed Joe to do a check.
Joe had just spent the last four hours swimming and biking on a pump track. Swimming rarely causes Joe blood sugar issues. He keeps his Ping on. No decrease in basal...bolus as normal for food...minimal free carbs are needed to keep him euglycemic. Pump track riding may be a different story though, as we battled many lows yesterday afternoon, evening, and on through the night and into this morning.
Enough about numbers, let's get back to the checker~outer~bagger~guy and the grocery store blood sugar check...and the blood...oh yeah, the blood....
So, checkout lane #7 was vacant. Joe walked up to the "conveyor part" of the lane and started unzipping Woodchuck. Now ... I don't give the whole blood sugar procedure a lot of thought. You know, the blood borne pathogen business. I don't really think about the "biohazardness" of our day-in-the-life. With Joe's Woodchuck splayed out all over lane #7, I started dreading a "gusher" (yes, at times Joe's finger can spew like a volcano..now no one is gonna come over for dinner). The thought of blood splatter on the conveyor belt and the sequella of that splatter ... blood droplets smeared all over not only the black belt but being smeared all over the hard~to~reach~to~sanitize conveyor parts underneath the checkout counter ... and the possible tainting of fresh produce ... the thought of the blood on the belt and the look of the checker~outer~bagger~guy taking in Joe's predicament had me take pause and instruct Joe to move his procedure to a less traffic-ed spot. He did it by the checkout lane #7 bagging station. Not sure if that was much better.
His number? It was 59.
A day-in-the-life of trying to manage diabetes in the checkout line in a "socially acceptable" manner.