An elegant injection
At one point the call went out: Let’s all check our blood sugars!
I fetched a meter and a hand full of disposable lancets.
Around we went. An 86 from a 30-year-old male, a 93 from the family member, a 176 from a young T-1 mother of the two most beautiful little blonde haired, blue eyed girls you’ve even seen (the oldest of whom was sitting on my lap--Rio has a complete crush on her because he thinks she looks like Tinkerbelle), a 133 from my assistant who swears she’s not even a little bit diabetic, and 368 from a 16-year-old-girl Type-1, and finally a 163 from me.
My teen-age patient whipped out a Novo Flexpen and in one fluid movement uncapped it injected one-handed into her upper arm and returned the pen mysteriously to where ever it was she kept it.
My jaw dropped. It was like ballet-meets-magic. I’d never seen a more graceful, smooth, effortless injection.
She noticed I was staring at her, speechless.
“What?” she asked, defensively.
“That was beautiful,” I told her.