Diabetes Humor Quotes

As a child I assumed that when I reached adulthood, I would have grown-up thoughts.

My books are my staple diet. As serious as insulin doses for those who are diabetics!

There’s a short circuit between my brain and my tongue, thus “Leave me the fuck alone” comes out as “Well, maybe. Sure. I guess I can see your point.

States vote to take away my marriage rights, and even though I don't want to get married, it tends to hurt my feelings. I guess what bugs me is that it was put to a vote in the first place. If you don't want to marry a homosexual, then don't. But what gives you the right to weigh in on your neighbor's options? It's like voting whether or not redheads should be allowed to celebrate Christmas.

In the beginning, I was put off by the harshness of German. Someone would order a piece of cake, and it sounded as if it were an actual order, like, 'Cut the cake and lie facedown in that ditch between the cobbler and the little girl'.

If you stepped out of the shower and saw a leprechaun standing at the base of your toilet, would you scream, or would you innately understand that he meant you no harm?

This is so sweet I’m going to end up diabetic.

In the Netherlands now, I imagine it's legal to marry your own children. Get them pregnant, and you can abort your unborn grandbabies in a free clinic that used to be a church.

My first boyfriend was black as well, but that doesn't prove I'm color-blind, just that I like big butts.

They watched the rain and downed their Cokes like a pair of diabetics in a suicide pact.

Neither were we allowed to choose what we ate. I have a friend whose seven-year-old will only consider something if it's white. Had I tried that, my parents would have said, "You're on," and served me a bowl of paste, followed by joint compound, and, maybe if I was good, some semen.

I grin at her enthusiasm. “Did you like the little gun-finger I flashed you after that goal? All for you, baby.” She grins back. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but you were actually pointing at the old guy a few seats over. He totally freaked out and started shouting to everyone that you scored that goal for him, and then I heard him ask his wife if maybe you knew that he was just diagnosed with diabetes, so I didn’t have the heart to tell him who the goal was really for.” I break down in laughter. “Why is nothing ever simple with us?” “Hey,” she protests. “We’re more interesting this way.” I can’t argue with that.

It was one of those situations I often find myself in while traveling. Something's said by a stranger I've been randomly thrown into contact with, and I want to say, "Listen. I'm with you on most of this, but before we continue, I need to know who you voted for in the last election.

The sad truth of it was that he was too weak to move out. Not physically, but in every other way under the sun. If he left, he would miss the pancakes. He’d miss the syrup. Three times a day, she pricked him with a needle to make sure he was burning it all off and not going diabetic again; if he moved away, he’d miss that too. A little bloodshed was a negligible price to pay for the brief but electrifying thrill of having her touch him. Honestly, the ritual stabbings were fast becoming his favorite part of the day.

Diabetes is just like a lover, hurting you from the inside.

When you're young it's easy to believe that such a opportunity will come again, maybe even a better one.

They all knew it was gallows humor. There would be babies born to thirteen-year-olds who would show up at the clinic with "stomachaches." Backs and shoulders wrenched, wrists damaged, knees torn at the kapok factory. Hands opaline with infected cuts, gone bad from the bacteria and toxins in the offal at the fish-processing plant. Sepsis, diabetes, melanomas, botched abortions, asthma, TB, malnutrition, STDs. Liquor and drugs and hopelessness and rage pounded deep into the gut. "The poor you will always have with you," Jesus said. A warning, Emilio wondered, or an indictment?

If there’s anything in life that’s an undisputed fact, it’s this: Buildings with strange symbols carved in their lintels are bad news. You rarely find symbols leading to unicorns and fields of candy—and even that’s bad news if you’re diabetic.

He winks at me and ignores me for the rest of supper, during which he instructs Ross about current diabetic treatments, corrects Maggie's perfectly pronounced Renoir as Ren-wah, and keeps fondling Kate's breasts. Okay, not exactly, but he touches her arm or hand whenever he talks or she does, and it's so frequent it's bordering on molestation. I can't believe no one's putting a stop to this.

So DCI Hudson explained the legal niceties to me, and warned that he would be forced to arrest anyone who blocked the diggers. I said that I was sure he wouldn’t actually arrest anyone, and he agreed that this was true. So there we were, back to square one. Ron then asked DCI Hudson if he was proud of himself, and DCI Hudson replied that he was an overweight fifty-one-year-old divorcé, and so, by and large, no, he wasn’t. This made Donna smile. She likes him—not like that, but she likes him. I do too. I was going to say to him that he wasn’t overweight, but he actually is a bit, and as a nurse, it’s best to never sugarcoat things, even when your instinct is to be protective. Instead I told him he should never eat after six p.m.—that’s the key if you don’t want diabetes—and he thanked me. That’s when Ibrahim joined us and suggested that DCI Hudson might try Pilates, and Donna said that was something she would pay to see. Ian Ventham didn’t want to join in the fun, and told Donna and DCI Hudson that he paid their wages. Donna said in that case could she ask him about a pay rise, and that’s when Ventham started shouting the odds about this, that, and the other. People without a sense of humor will never forgive you for being funny. But that’s an aside. Anyway, Ibrahim, who is very good with this sort of thing—conflict and inadequate men and stalemates and so on—stepped in and offered to “thin the crowd out” to give everyone a bit of breathing space.

Following an especially arduous hike, the Russian says, “I’m tired and I’m thirsty. I must have vodka,” while the German says, “I’m tired and I’m thirsty. I must have beer,” and the Frenchman says, “I’m tired and I’m thirsty. I must have wine.” The Mexican says, “I’m tired and I’m thirsty. I must have tequila.” The Jew says, “I’m tired and I’m thirsty. I must have diabetes.

About the Author : Type-1 diabetic, diabetes educator, author, Lee walks in your shoes every day. He writes from both clinical and personal experience with honesty, compassion, and humor. He works full time running the diabetes program for a rural nonprofit clinic in one of the poorest counties in the United States, and is a tireless advocate for diabetes care and awareness.

She also smokes like a house fire, drinks like a diabetic bulldog, and curses like the ghost of a pirate who has been wandering the afterlife looking for a treasure chest full of fucks that's long ago been emptied