I have so many funny, sometimes bittersweet, stories to tell about reactions. This one is the one the put me on the road to getting an insulin pump. Before I was married, I decided to take Yoga classes to get a little exercise. I was under the mistaken impression that it wasn't at all aerobic, and that I was going to just "stretch" a lot. I ignored being tired after class, thinking it was the cumulative effect of a long day, not the rigorous workout. I took classes at a truly lovely spot in Brooklyn, and I was terribly impressed with the teacher. I didn't want to do anything wrong, I wanted to be "in the moment," etc. Well, during one great session, I started to loose track of what was going on with my body. I ignored the signals. I just thought, "breath." My teacher asked if I was ok, and I said, "sure!" thinking my problem was totally internal, a matter of mood. ------------then I wake up surrounded by people, and I see my local homeless liquor store loiterer giving my teacher some juice. I drink it. I come too. What just happened? Well, it turned out that this man, whom I'd walked by many times every day, was also a type one diabetic. Someone in the class knew this, and went to get him for help. He instructed my teacher in how to handle the reaction, and Viola, he was gone. I tried many times after that to buy him a meal, get him some new shoes, keep him company. But like the fable this experience seemed like, he refused my help. He nodded hello, sympatico, but wouldn't take anything from me. It taught me a lot.