It’s just a bracelet, right?

For years, I’ve worn a medic alert bracelet, and I’d grown rather fond of it. For starters, it didn’t look like a medic alert bracelet. It was a thin linked chain with pentagon charm not much larger than a corn kernel. It had a red Star of Life and “diabetes” was etched on the back. But several weeks ago, my bracelet broke. One of my pups (yes #DevilDog) caught it with her paw and it broke completely in half. Luckily, I’m fairly handy so I fixed it and put it back on my wrist. But apparently I’m not as handy as I thought because it broke about a week later and I haven’t seen it since. I looked in my office (I still smily typing that), my car and my apartment, but I guess it broke and fell somewhere else because it seems to be gone forever.

Considering the amount of time I am alone, I’m not comfortable without a medic alert bracelet (which still makes my mother laugh considering the fight I gave her some 18 years ago when she insisted I wear one). Since my silver bracelet broke, I’ve been wearing my “outdoors” bracelet. A friend found these online, and they are perfect for hiking, biking, canoeing and doing anything else outdoors where real jewelry is not a good idea. (Or in my case, playing with the dogs at the dog park). I don’t particularly care for this back-up bracelet on a day-to-day basis because it’s terribly obvious, and I think it sticks out like a sore thumb. In a professional setting, a giant rubber band on my wrist is not something I prefer people see first.

So about a week ago, I decided to finally order a new bracelet. The old one was too big anyway and the word “diabetic” had all but rubbed off anyway. It was definitely time. I went to a local jewelry store and was told to come back when the jeweler was available. According to the sales woman who greeted me (only after waiting five minutes because I had clearly interrupted her dinner), the jeweler had the ordering catalog. Seriously? All I wanted to do was pick out a charm and a bracelet and the store didn’t have a catalog for me to look through? What kind of jewelry store is this? So I left, a little bit angry. I realize this wasn’t going to be an expensive order, but I’m still a customer. And as a single female, potentially a great customer in the coming years.

So I walked a few doors down to another local jewelry store. I told the lady what I needed and she was immediately helpful. I picked out the charm quickly and she helped me find the perfect linked bracelet which took some time. And $150 later, I had a new bracelet that resembled nothing Wilford Brimley would ever wear. I was happy. And the best part, it would arrive before I left for my Kansas City-Simonpalooza extravaganza.

Saturday, I went to pick up my bracelet. As I waited to be helped, I watched other customers (I love to people watch). There were two women, obviously best friends, smiling over a high-end counter while giggling about what they’d own “one day.” There was a young woman, maybe high school age, waiting on a repair. And then there was a lovely young couple who’d stopped in the store to make a payment on their wedding rings. They were so happy and all smiles as the young bride showed off her engagement ring to the sales woman. I smiled, hopeful for the future. My eavesdropping and subsequent daydreaming was interrupted when a sales man rounded the corner with my bracelet. He pulled it from its plastic sleeve and placed it on the counter.

Instantly, I hated it.

The chain was bulkier than I’d envisioned, and I didn’t think it looked very feminine. A sales woman came over to help and as she kept complimenting the bracelet, I kept saying I didn’t like it. I apologized profusely for being such a bother, especially for something they consider a small order. (Though spending $150 for a medic alert bracelet is not small beans for me). She was nice enough, but I felt like I was nuisance. Since it was a special order, I figured I would have to pay for another bracelet and I offered to do so. She said they wanted me to be happy and I could pick out something else.

As we skimmed through the catalog, everything I picked out was apparently made for people with teeny-tiny wrists. We kept looking, and I kept apologizing and tried to explain.

“It’s just that I have to wear this 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, so I want it to be something I am completely happy with. I know this sounds crazy, but because I have to wear it everyday, I don’t want it to look like a medic alert bracelet, and this chain looks like a medic alert bracelet to me.”

She smiled and said, “I understand,” although I knew she probably didn’t. And again, I uttered “I’m sorry.”

It was with that last “I’m sorry” that I felt the tears forming. I tried to make them stop but it was too late. I stood there, flipping through a catalog in the middle of the jewelry store with tears streaming down my face. I tried to hide them by quickly wiping my face, but I’m certain the sales lady saw them. I kept thinking, this was not really happening — that I wasn’t crying over a stupid medic alert bracelet. Then it occurred to me that I shouldn’t even be in the store picking out this bracelet to begin with. I should be picking out fun jewelry — or giggling with my best friend over “one day” or making a payment on a fantastic wedding ring — but not picking out necessary and potentially life-saving jewelry. The lady looked up at me just as my sleeve wiped across my face and said, “I have an idea.”

She was wearing two Pandora bracelets, and she took one of them off. She placed it on my wrist and held the charm up next to it and said, “Look! A Pandora bracelet definitely doesn’t look like a medic alert bracelet.” She was right. It didn’t.

So what was supposed to be a five-minute bracelet pick up turned into and emotional, 45-minute bracelet search and rescue. I had no idea I felt so strongly about my medic alert bracelet, nor did I appreciate spending that much money on a piece of medical jewelry. But I love my new bracelet, and its purpose is still clear (although I hope I will never need it). And in hindsight, I realize the tears weren’t only because of the bracelet, but because of what it represented and the many other reasons I’d rather be in a jewelry store.

I know I can’t put Pandora charms on my new bracelet because I need the medic alert charm to be clear and visible, but it is still a beautiful bracelet. It was worth the money and it doesn’t resemble Mr. Brimley in the least. Let’s hope the pup steers clear of this one.

Editor’s note: I swear, I am not crazy, but sometimes, diabetes can be an emotional disease, and sometimes, it sneaks up on you. And thank you to my mom! I didn’t mean to scare you when I called crying, but I knew you would understand and you’d know what to say to make me feel better. And of course, you did.