There’s a strange sensation that flows through my body when I realize I could be flying blind for an undetermined amount of time. Naturally the first emotion is panic. Bart Allen is a crucial part of my management. If I’m Kobe, my glucose meter is Shaq. It’s the Costello to my Abbott. The yin to my yang. It’s the….you get the idea. And if you’re a member of the Wilford Brimley Fan Club, chances are you know exactly how I feel.

Imagine trying to go through a full day without your glucose meter. Even if you knew the exact carb/insulin ratio for the food you were eating for each meal, Diabetes doesn’t play by the rules. Any given day, any given meal, any given bolus may not go according to plan. That’s where the glucose meter comes into play, providing answers for the recent past and direction for the near future. Each blood test provides just enough information so I can determine what, if any actions need to be immediately taken. It is the ultimate wingman.

But without it, there is no direction. There are no answers. There is just a cloud of uncertainty and doubt. To the pancreatically gifted, I’m not sure if there is a scenario I could describe to put you in the right frame of mind. My first thought would be lost at sea with a paddle and all you see is fog.

Now, try to find land.

Think about that for a second. You have no sense of where you are and no clue where you are going but you are still expected to find a way to survive. That fear that I described can consume me in a matter of seconds if I realize I have misplaced my meter, even if only for a few hours.

Lucky for me, I’m not that forgetful

(oh wait, I forgot a period at the end of that sentence)