I sit in a line to the endocrinologist, write out prescriptions for insulin. A full-fledged aunt, as in that post: “uncertainly-hulled outward,” and in the course of ores:

I am a diabetic, I have no line.

And, in a rough turn, he tries to break into the office. Naturally, it is inhibited, indicating that it is your turn, please go to the end.

But is sick! I have type 2 diabetes! I am a group 3 disabled. I am without a turn!

Then you will be after me. I’m also a disabled and a diabetic, but I’m a type one, I cried in, getting rid of Picabus.

Okay, I’ll be following you, still the 1st type.

Only she didn’t know that the whole line was made up of diabetics, and the last in that line was me.



Good sugar for all diabetics!