Moments after we sit down, our waitress comes to take our order. And then I hear:
"Hey, aren't you my endocrinologist?"
Turns out she was my 21 year old with type 1 diabetes. The one I just saw again last week. The one I was busting her chops on, for not watching her insulin, her food intake (her hemoglobin A1c was drifting up; she had been snacking more without taking the compensatory insulin shots), and for alcohol binging (especially bad for DM1).
If there ever was a moment I felt like a hypocrite, that was it. I wanted to just disappear. I was tempted to order salad instead. But no, I stuck to my guns, and went for the Country Apple Pie instead. And told her to pretend she never saw me.
I'll have to cut her some slack when she comes in to see me again in 3 months. Hopefully her numbers would look better.