Avid diabetic spotters like myself are always on the look out for our fellow pancreatically challenged types. It brightens up our day to spot another of our species out in the wild. But it’s not always the visual clues that give us away. Sometimes it’s the sounds…

• The slurp of a juice box being emptied at speed
• The rustle of fruit pastilles wrappers being opened
• The clunk of the finger pricker
• The bleep of the meter
• The anguished screams of fury when the result isn’t quite what I was expecting
• The space invader-esque CGM alarms indicating you’re rising or falling quickly
• The kerklunk of the infusion set inserter, which reminds me of the terrifying clunk of the Autolet, the vicious guillotine style finger pricking device from the dark ages
• The buzzes and beeps of my insulin pump
• The bang of insulin pump colliding with doorframe
• The sigh as I realise we’re going to have to repaint the doorframes again soon
• The groans of disappointment as I miss the test strip in the middle of the night and put another spot of blood on the bedsheets
• The muffled middle of the night conversation “You ok?” “I’m a six” “Snore”

Any more?