My name is Elizabeth, and I love almost everything about my life. I\u2019ve worked hard to build a career I\u2019m proud of as a marketing consultant, even though it means I practically live out of a suitcase sometimes.<\/p>\n
Last year alone, I visited 14 cities across the country, helping businesses transform their brand strategies. The frequent flyer miles are a nice perk, and hotel breakfast buffets have become my second home.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnother trip? You\u2019re like a modern nomad,\u201d my mom jokes whenever I call her from yet another airport terminal.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s worth it,\u201d I always tell her.<\/p>\n
And it is.<\/p>\n
I\u2019m building something meaningful. Financial security, professional respect, and the kind of life I\u2019ve always wanted for myself.<\/p>\n
Everything in my life runs pretty smoothly except for one persistent complication\u2014type 1 diabetes.<\/p>\n
I was diagnosed when I was 12, and it\u2019s been my constant companion ever since. For those who don\u2019t know, Type 1 means my pancreas doesn\u2019t produce insulin, the hormone that regulates blood sugar. Without insulin injections and careful monitoring, my blood sugar can spike dangerously high or drop perilously low.<\/p>\n
And both scenarios can land me in the hospital if I\u2019m not careful.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s just part of who you are,\u201d my endocrinologist told me years ago. \u201cNot a limitation, just a consideration.\u201d<\/p>\n
I\u2019ve lived by those words. I keep glucose tablets in every purse, set alarms for insulin doses, and always, always pack extra snacks when I travel.<\/p>\n
My condition doesn\u2019t define me, but it does require vigilance, especially when I\u2019m traveling.<\/p>\n
Thankfully, most people in my life understand.<\/p>\n
My boss makes sure meetings have scheduled breaks. My friends don\u2019t bat an eye when I need to stop for a snack.<\/p>\n
Even flight attendants usually get it when I explain why I need that ginger ale right now, not in 20 minutes when they reach my row.<\/p>\n
But not everyone gets it.<\/p>\n
Not everyone cares to understand that what looks like a simple snack to them is sometimes a medical necessity for me.<\/p>\n
Like what happened last month on my flight from Chicago to Seattle.<\/p>\n
I\u2019d been up since 4:30 a.m. for an early meeting, rushed through a chaotic O\u2019Hare security line, and barely made my boarding group.<\/p>\n
By the time I collapsed into my aisle seat, I was already feeling the familiar lightheaded sensation that warned me my blood sugar was dropping.<\/p>\n
I was seated next to a family of three. The mom, probably mid-thirties, sat directly beside me, while her husband sat across the aisle.<\/p>\n
Between them was their son, a boy of about nine with a brand-new iPad Pro, wireless headphones that probably cost more than my monthly grocery budget, and a petulant expression that suggested he found the whole flying experience beneath him.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom, I wanted the window,\u201d he whined as they settled in.<\/p>\n
\u201cNext time, sweetie. The nice lady at the counter couldn\u2019t change our seats.\u201d She stroked his hair like he was royalty being mildly inconvenienced.<\/p>\n
The boy sighed dramatically and kicked the seat in front of him.<\/p>\n
Not once. Not twice. Repeatedly.<\/p>\n
The man in front turned around with a glare, but the mother just smiled apologetically without actually stopping her son.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s just excited about the trip,\u201d she explained, not making any move to correct the behavior.<\/p>\n
I raised my eyebrows but said nothing, pulling out my magazine and settling in.<\/p>\n
Live and let live, I thought.<\/p>\n
The flight was only three hours. I could handle a s.p.oiled kid for that long.<\/p>\n
Or so I believed.<\/p>\n
As the flight attendants completed their safety demonstration and the plane began to taxi, I felt that familiar dizziness intensify. My hands started to tremble slightly. It was a clear warning sign.<\/p>\n
I reached into my bag for the protein bar I always kept handy.<\/p>\n
Just as I unwrapped it, the woman next to me hissed, \u201cCan you not? Our son is very sensitive.\u201d<\/p>\n
I paused, protein bar halfway to my mouth, wondering if I\u2019d misheard her. But no, the mom was staring at me with that look of entitlement, as if I\u2019d just pulled out something illegal instead of a simple snack.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry?\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe smell. The crinkling. The chewing.\u201d She gestured vaguely. \u201cIt sets him off. Our son has\u2026 sensitivities.\u201d<\/p>\n
I glanced at the boy, who was already whining about the seat belt and kicking the tray in front of him. He seemed perfectly fine. Not a kid with disabilities, just s.p.oiled and loud.<\/p>\n
To be honest, he didn\u2019t even notice my protein bar.<\/p>\n
\u201cI understand, but I need to\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019d really appreciate it,\u201d she cut me off. \u201cIt\u2019s just a short flight.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked down at my shaking hands. The rational part of me wanted to explain my medical condition, but the people-pleasing part won out.<\/p>\n
I figured, okay, whatever, I\u2019ll wait for the snack cart.<\/p>\n
I tucked the bar away and powered through, checking my CGM monitor discreetly. The numbers were dropping faster than I\u2019d like.<\/p>\n
Forty minutes into the flight, the drink cart finally appeared. I heaved a sigh of relief as I watched it make its way down the aisle.<\/p>\n
When the flight attendant reached our row, I smiled and said, \u201cCan I get a Coke and the protein snack box, please?\u201d<\/p>\n
Before I could finish, the dad across the aisle leaned over and interrupted, \u201cNo food or drinks for this row, thanks.\u201d<\/p>\n
The flight attendant looked confused. \u201cSir?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOur son,\u201d he said with a pointed look at the boy, who was now completely engrossed in his iPad game. \u201cHe gets upset when others eat around him.\u201d<\/p>\n
What? I thought. Is he serious?<\/p>\n
I was about to protest when the mom chimed in. \u201cIt\u2019s just a few hours. Surely you can wait.\u201d<\/p>\n
The flight attendant moved on with the cart, clearly uncomfortable but unwilling to get in the middle of a passenger dispute. When I reached up to press the call button, the boy\u2019s dad leaned across the aisle again.<\/p>\n
\u201cUhh, excuse me? Our son does not handle other people eating near him. It sets him off. Maybe you could be a decent human for one flight and just skip the snack, yeah?\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked from him to his wife to their son, who hadn\u2019t even bothered to look up from his game. My blood sugar alert buzzed on my watch.<\/p>\n
I needed sugar, and I needed it now.<\/p>\n
It took a few seconds before the flight attendant returned. Again, the boy\u2019s mother interrupted.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe\u2019ll have nothing. Our son has sensory triggers,\u201d she told the flight attendant. \u201cHe sees food and throws fits. You wouldn\u2019t believe the tantrums. So, unless you want a screamer the whole flight, maybe don\u2019t serve her?\u201d<\/p>\n
At that point, I\u2019d had it.<\/p>\n
I turned to the attendant, loud enough for half the row to hear, and said, \u201cHi. I have Type 1 Diabetes. If I don\u2019t eat something now, I could pass out or end up in the hospital. So yes, I will be eating. Thanks.\u201d<\/p>\n
A few heads turned.<\/p>\n
Passengers nearby glanced up.<\/p>\n
One older woman across the aisle actually gasped and stared at the parents like they\u2019d said something r.u.d.e to her.<\/p>\n
The flight attendant\u2019s demeanor instantly changed. \u201cOf course, ma\u2019am. I\u2019ll get that right away.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGod, it\u2019s always something with people,\u201d the mom rolled her eyes. \u201cMy son has needs too! He doesn\u2019t like seeing food when he can\u2019t have any. It\u2019s called empathy.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYour son has an iPad, headphones, and hasn\u2019t looked up once,\u201d I pointed out. \u201cAnd he\u2019s eating Skittles right now.\u201d I nodded toward the colorful candy scattered on his tray.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s different,\u201d she huffed.<\/p>\n
I smiled sweetly as I took the snack box and soda from the attendant and said, \u201cYou know what else it\u2019s called? Managing your own kid. Not the entire cabin.\u201d<\/p>\n
I snarfed down my crackers and cheese, chugged my soda, and felt my blood sugar start to level. The relief was immediate, both physically and emotionally.<\/p>\n
Five minutes later, just as I opened my laptop, the mom leaned in again.<\/p>\n
\u201cI feel a calling to educate you about my son\u2019s condition,\u201d she said with a tight smile.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t even flinch.<\/p>\n
\u201cLady,\u201d I said loud and clear, \u201cI don\u2019t care. I\u2019m going to manage my T1D however I see fit, and you can manage your tantrum-prone prince however you see fit. I\u2019m not putting my health at risk because you can\u2019t handle a meltdown. Book the whole row next time. Or better yet, fly private.\u201d<\/p>\n
The silence that followed was worth it.<\/p>\n
The remaining two hours passed without incident. The boy never once looked up from his game or noticed anyone eating. And the parents? They didn\u2019t say another word to me.<\/p>\n
That day on the plane taught me that advocating for your health isn\u2019t r.u.d.e. It\u2019s necessary.<\/p>\n
Sometimes the kindest thing you can do for yourself is to stand firm when others try to minimize your needs. My condition isn\u2019t visible, but it\u2019s real, and I have every right to manage it properly.<\/p>\n
No one\u2019s comfort is more important than another person\u2019s health. And that\u2019s a lesson worth remembering, whether you\u2019re at 30,000 feet or with both feet on the ground.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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