This past weekend was a working weekend. I spent the vast majority of my time on the computer and frequenting my local Starbucks for liquid motivation. I have a big work project that I’m trying to get finished ahead of schedule, so I had to make sacrifices at the expense of my weekend. If I wasn’t certain that the end project is going to be awesome, that might bother me more.

Coffee houses are very interesting places to do work. You get see all kinds of people come in and order their custom cup of Joe. My personal favorite (from Starbucks) is the skinny caramel latte. In my head it is a dark, sexy cup of deliciousness with just enough cream and candy sweetness to indulge in without too much guilt, equivalent to the joys of silk pajamas. In reality, it’s a latte made with sugar free caramel syrup and fat free milk. They would probably sell more of them if they went with my description, but that’s neither here nor there.

While I was sitting in Starbucks on Sunday, something interesting happened. Earlier in the afternoon I had gone to the gym and did hill climb intervals on the stationary bike, and managed to sweat off my CGM sensor. After the gym I went home and put the transmitter on the charger, got a shower, and immediately put a new CGM sensor in and reconnected.

Two hours later, while sitting at a table in Starbucks with my trusty laptop and mostly minding my own business, my CGM alarm screeched at me and notified me that it was time for a calibration. I grabbed my kit, did a finger prick, and took care of business. Nothing special there.

The special part was that, while doing this, I was having a conversation with a gentleman next to me about the oddness of the electrical outlets at this particular Starbucks being located behind the removable back cushions of the bench we were sitting on. Our conversation had taken place despite diabetes trying to interrupt. Neither he nor I had given diabetes the courtesy of the time of day.

Normally I feel like I have to hit the pause button on my life for these moments with diabetes. Even having had diabetes as long as I have, I notice them, like red flags on a green golf course. I have to hide the red blood drop from a squeamish passerby, or ask the person waiting on me to go somewhere to hold the door for just a few seconds so I can check my blood sugar first, or choke down a couple glucose tabs and wait a few minutes before finishing a conversation.

This was different. Although diabetes was there, this was a moment without diabetes, and it was so subtle that I almost missed it. It was nice, and I appreciate it, even if it was only for that one moment.