That Time I Lost my Dexcom, and a Cop Flirted with Me

I bet that title caught your attention, huh?

Not too long ago, I was fondly reminiscing about my college days. So many stories, so many of them related to diabetes in some manner. But this one that I’m about to share is one of the funniest, most cringe-worthy stories. Hopefully, you’ll be delighted by my awkward adventure:

It was the night of the “senior ball”. This was a dance held at the Mullins Center at the UMass Campus for graduating seniors. I was particularly excited to attend mine, because it presented me with an opportunity to see all of my college friends again. Technically speaking, I didn’t graduate with them – due to extra course credits and an overloaded schedule, I was able to graduate one semester earlier than the rest of my friends. This means I last hung out with the group in December; fast-forward to May, and it had been nearly five months since I last saw my crew.

So this meant we had to celebrate! As I got ready at my friend’s apartment, we caught up on each others’ lives and drank some wine. By the time we were ready for the grand ole ball, we were feeling more than ready to dance the night away.

Drinking and diabetes: Things can get a little…dicey, when celebrating special occasions.

And we certainly did. We spent several hours that evening taking pictures, laughing with friends, snacking on appetizers and sipping more wine. And in the middle of it all, my Dexcom CGM somehow managed to vanish from my purse’s strap. I didn’t realize this until I needed to check my CGM to stay updated on my blood sugar, so I had no idea how much time had passed between then and when I lost the CGM.

What I do know for sure, though, is that I instantly panicked when I discovered it was gone. I rely heavily on my CGM when I’m at an event like this. It’s really useful for me to stay alert of how I’m trending, especially when I’m drinking alcohol. Typically, I know what to expect in terms of my blood sugar when I’m imbibing in different kinds of alcohol, but having my CGM handy makes me feel more secure.

So that’s why I freaked out. How the hell was I supposed to find my CGM in the Mullins Center? For context: It’s an arena that can hold almost 10,000 people. There weren’t quite that many attending the ball, but there were enough bodies in there to guarantee that searching for my CGM wouldn’t be easy.

I admit it, I was a little tipsy, so that definitely didn’t help in the situation.

After telling my friends what happened, and a brief group effort to search for my CGM, I knew I needed more manpower. So I found a police officer and told him what was going on. Once he found out I was a diabetic, he sat me down in a chair – he must’ve been afraid I’d pass out or something – and he assured me that we’d locate it by the end of the night. He struck up conversation with me while we waited for news from the other officers who were on the case. I had nothing else to do, so I gamely chatted with him.

I have no idea how much time passed. It could’ve been 20 minutes or 2 hours, but in a matter of time, my CGM was found. I jumped for joy when it was returned to me, cradling it in my arms. Meanwhile, the police officer seemed kind of bummed. He took something out of his pocket – a card – circling a number on it before handing it to me. “That’s my number,” he said, “just in case you need me again.”

I took it, nonplussed, and thanked him for his assistance. He nodded, and watched as I walked away to rejoin my friends. We all walked home and passed out soon after, exhausted from the fun but chaotic night.

The next morning, I woke up and rummaged through my purse to get my meter and CGM so I could do my first BG check of the day. As I looked through, I found a card in my bag – the cop’s card. I chuckled out loud, explained what happened to my friends, who laughed riotously as I relayed my interaction with him the night before.

“Molly, face it – you got hit on by a cop while you nearly had a medical crisis.”

Yup. True story.

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