I’m Lisa, a marketing strategist who thrives on travel, crisscrossing the country to boost brands. My job brings freedom—frequent flyer perks and cozy hotel stays—but Type 1 diabetes, diagnosed in my teens, keeps me vigilant. Without insulin, my blood sugar can plummet or soar, risking hospitalization. I pack snacks, check my monitor, and rely on understanding colleagues and flight crews. But on a flight from Chicago to Seattle, I faced parents who prioritized their son’s whims over my medical needs, sparking a lesson in standing firm.
After a grueling morning and airport sprint, I settled into my aisle seat, lightheaded and shaky—my blood sugar was dropping. Beside me, a couple fussed over their nine-year-old, who sulked with his pricey tablet, kicking the seat ahead. As I unwrapped a protein bar, the mom hissed, “Don’t eat. Our son’s sensitive to it.” Her son, eating sweets, seemed unbothered, but she claimed chewing sounds might trigger a fit. Reluctantly, I waited for the drink cart, my condition worsening, my monitor flashing urgent warnings.
When I ordered a snack and drink, the dad interrupted, “No food here. Our son can’t handle it.” Shocked, I spoke up. “I have Type 1 diabetes. I need this, or I could pass out.” The attendant quickly served me, and nearby passengers stared as I ate, my body steadying. The mom muttered about her son’s needs, but I retorted, “He’s eating candy. Parent him, not me.” She tried explaining his “sensitivities,” but I cut her off. “My health comes first. Book private next time.” The flight passed silently, her son lost in his game.
That moment cemented my resolve to prioritize my health, no matter the pushback. Diabetes demands constant care, and advocating for it isn’t rude—it’s essential. I learned to value my needs over others’ unreasonable demands, a principle that guides me in the air and beyond, ensuring I live fully despite my condition.
