Sugar Turned On Me

Today, my company took the office out for lunch.  Normally, this would be great news and in the end, it turned out okay. But why do I say “Normally”? Because we were going to Olive Garden.

On the one hand, I really like some of the food at Olive Garden. The issue is that it’s hard to find anything there that doesn’t come with pasta and being diabetic, I can only do so much of that. When the  decision was made, I agreed while inside I smoldered.

I wanted to look at one of my co-workers and ask “What are you trying to do, kill me?”

I might have done it too, but I didn’t want to be That Guy, the one that is now the “least” in “least common denominator”, the limiting factor and the one that stands out in an unpleasantly special way. I probably could have pulled the “I have a disability” card, but then the choice of venue for the meal would be less about celebrating as a team and more about me. In the future, I’d be approached by my co-workers or my boss when similar festivities occurred and asked what my preference might be. And any time I had a donut or something sugary in the office, I’d risk getting ugly glances from my team mates for having the audacity to risk things when it suited me, but not when it benefited them.

The drama I’m describing is probably a couple of orders of magnitude above what woudl actually happen, knowing the people involved, but still I didn’t want to make others uncomfortable by demanding they cater to my metabolism. If it really had been something life or death, something more complicated than where to have lunch, I might have pointed out why the place suited me less than some others, but it didn’t and I didn’t feel I needed to play up my issues.

Lunch was lovely and I can thank Atkins that there were options that I could have without risking totally killing my blood glucose.  I’m glad we went where we went and I’m glad my comrades in commerce enjoyed themselves. There may be some event where I need to be adamant about compensating for my diabetes, but this one wasn’t it.

Here’s hoping that if such an event ever comes, I’ll have the wisdom to know it and the tact to be able to say something without becoming “That Guy”.

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