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No, my bad, forgive me if I didn't paint the full picture. There is an adjustment period, for both Type I and Type II diabetics. It's not an exact science at the outset. When we get diagnosed, every physician worth his/her salt sends us to a diabetes clinic at the nearest major health system (assuming availability to one). It's basically a crash course in nutrition, internal medicine, and endocrinology. The cause, the symptoms, our nutritional needs, the do's and dont's, sometimes right down to the plastic, life-size organs that you can take apart and put together like 3D puzzles. The medicines of the time - Glucovance, Glucophage, were dosed based of a pair of underlying factors like your acute sugar glucose level, as well as your rolling (90 day) A1C level. Administering and prescribing these meds back in the day was highly contingent on your caloric intake (including things like varying types of sugars and carbs). I had a pair of incidents; one specifically, was a near-death experience. I was fortunate to have a colleague who ran to a soda machine and sprung for a can of Pepsi. It started with a loss of focus, nausea, sweats, rapidly deteriorating motor skills, difficulty breathing, confusion, heart fibrillation, and a general feeling like my organs were just.....shutting down. My doctor had prescribed too much, and I was just.....turning off. It took an hour with the company nurse before I was able to find my feet again. Needless to say, my doctor had to sit on a pillow for a month. So apologies. But when you reach that acute nadir of consciousness, it doesn't matter of you steal the lollipop from an infant's mouth. It's an act of panic and, for all you know, self-preservation. I pray to God they find a cure for it because it's a horrific disease, and NO, you don't get it because you're FAT. I was 6', and 185 lbs of muscle when I got diagnosed. Every woman on my mother's side of the family - Olive Oyls all - contracted it. My best friend lost his wife of 25 years after three pancreas transplants, two lost kidneys, and two amputations because of this vile disease. He's family and so was she. There's no bolting for a Payday bar at a newsstand or the company canteen in that situation. What that kid in DG did was stave off an attack that could have happened at any time - there was nothing malicious about it. What's the old adage? Shit happens? Too many sphincters get too puckered over the wrong reasons nowadays. Which reminds me, now that we have been discussing it. I'm due for a shot of Trulicity. My, how things have advanced.