This weekend, Louise came to visit, and it was so much fun. We went to a local coffee shop in town and met up with a couple of other people with diabetes. It was lovely. It's the one good thing to come out of living with this condition: the people I've met.
As we were sat there talking about various aspects of diabetes and our lives in general, we noticed a family at the table next to us. The child had a glucose meter and was working out how much insulin he needed to take with his food. I've not had a great deal of contact with children with diabetes, but they are always the ones that make my heart ache when I see them checking their blood sugar or injecting insulin.
Our tables were pretty close together, and I could see the child's parents nodding along to some of the things we'd said. And I wish more than anything that I'd said something. Anything. Even if I'd just got out my own blood glucose meter as some kind of sign that said "Hey! What you were doing earlier, checking your blood sugar?! I do that too!"
But I didn't.
And I think of my parents. They have very little to do with my diabetes-life, but when my Mum's best friend's son (that's a mouthful!) was diagnosed a couple of years after me (also as adult) they gravitated towards each other even more because there was another common bond.
Okay, this family may have had the support of people who understand.
On the other hand, they may not have.
So I wish I'd said something. A "You know what, this sucks, but it's not the end of the world either" or a "You're doing great", some words of encouragement.
But nothing. This is what I should have said:
This sucks. Diabetes sucks. But it's not the end of the world. And you know what? You really are doing great. I know it's not always easy, but together as a family you can do this. And your kid? He's a hero in my eyes.
But I didn't.
Instead, I just reciprocated the smile and slight nod of the head they gave us as they left the café.