"Hi Chris, I'm low, I need sugar".
Today my partner, Hugh, and I collected his father from the Brisbane airport. Fresh off the plane from England. We had asked him to meet us at arrivals 5 min parking pick-up. His plane got in a little later than we expected and we ended up having to do a loop (Which at Brisbane domestics is no easy feat. It's a fair few km for the loop). As we drove through the 2nd time looking for a spot to park in, among all the chaos of dodging attempted ram raids by elderly and foreign drivers, we spotted him in the distance, walking in the opposite direction. Being the passenger it was decided I would get out and wait with Chris so he didn't wander too far away looking for us. We were caught behind a man very slowly trying to manouvre his way into a reverse park position.
So I get out of the car and leg it towards Chris, whilst Hugh drove off to do another lap as we had by this stage reached the end of the 5 min parking area. First words out of my mouth once I had caught up with Chris weren't "hello, how was your long haul flight?" or any other pleasantries. They were "I'm low, I need sugar". I didn't realise it until I had gotten up, but once I was up and standing, I felt it. My badly blurred vision and inability to answer Chris' following questions suggested that I was probably in the mid 2's at best. I felt like I wanted to fall down and die.
I didn't have sugar or my meter on me. They were in the car. I didn't have my phone on me. It was in the car. And I didn't have my wallet on me. That was in the car as well. Chris' plan was to urgently call Hugh to tell him to high-tail it back as fast as possible whilst he apparently scanned the crowds for anyone eating a chocolate bar that he could steal. My plan wasn't anything. It was to go ballistic in my head at myself for being so stupid as to not grab my jellybeans on my way out of the car.
I think Hugh may have sped as he reached us in record time, just as I was preparing to make the dash of my life back into the airport terminus (which was a good few hundred meters away) and beg a sugar sachet from security. At least I was wearing my medical ID to corroborate my story that I needed sugar.
Never have I been more relieved to see car juice before. I call it car juice because I keep juice boxes in my car for hypo's. Said juice boxes have all been sitting in my car for many many months and have heated up the point where they have probably fermented. They're probably alcoholic by now.
This whole episode ruined my day and I spent the car ride home having an internal screaming match with Morty. Just one of those days when the little things about D tick you off. Today it was the fact that I despise having to take a pharmacy with me everywhere I go, just in case, even for 5 minutes. Tomorrow I'll be careful and carry pocketfuls of jellybeans with me around the house. Just in case.