When I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes at just 12, I thought my life would be completely different from everyone else’s. But over time, I learned how to manage my condition without letting it stand in the way of any goal I set my mind to.
My family, friends, and colleagues know that my blood sugar levels can sometimes spike or drop dangerously low, so they understand the my needs for a snack when I feel like I need to have one. In fact, I always have a protein bar in all my purses. I keep them along with my insulin injections and other medications that help me manage my condition.
Even my boss makes sure the otherwise long conference meetings include a couple of snack breaks in order to accommodate my needs.
But it turns out that not everyone out there understand what it feels like to be living with Type 1 Diabetes. What’s a simple snack for most people can sometimes be a medical necessity for me.
During a three-hour-long flight, I started feeling that familiar sensation that often warned me my blood sugar was dropping.
I was seated next to a family of three, a mom and dad in their mid-thirties and their son, around seven years old. The boy had the newest iPad, a wireless headphones, and kept kicking the seat in front of him. His parents didn’t seem to bother much about his behavior although the person whose seat got kicked over and over again kept glancing at them, expecting from them to do something about their son’s lack of manners.
At one moment, I grabbed my snack bar out of my purse when the mother turned to me and said, “You can’t have that here, our son has sensitivities. He hates ot when someone eats in front of him.” The father then added, “It’s the crunching and chewing, it triggers tantrums.”
I was stunned by their request, and although I felt like I had to have my snack right there and then, I decided to wait for the snack cart instead.
However, when the flight attendant got to our row some time later and asked what we wanted, I said, “Can I get a Coke and the protein snack box, please?” But the entitled parents said, “No, she won’t have anything,” referring to me. “We are fine, you can pass our row.”
I turned to them and said, “Listen, I need to have a snack,” to which they responded that I was being totally insensitive and unsympathetic to their son’s wishes.
At that point, I decided to act and called the flight attendant to return to our row. “Hi. I have Type 1 Diabetes. If I don’t eat something now, I could pass out or end up in the hospital. So yes, I will be eating. Thanks.” I said loud enough so that most of the people around us could hear me.
The flight attendant passed me the snacks and the Coke I demanded and I started eating right away. Luckily, my sugar levels started getting up and I started regaining energy.
The woman started yelling, getting upset because of my eating while her son had his Skittles on his tray. When I pointed that out, the woman claimed it was different, and Skittles wasn’t really “food.”
She tried to talk to me about her son’s sensitivities, but I wasn’t willing to listen.
“Lady, listen” I said, “I’ll manage my diabetes, you manage your tantrum-prone kid. I won’t risk my health for your comfort—next time, book the whole row or fly private.”
That day, I learned that it’s never rude to advocate for your own health, especially when someone hates the sound of the chewing of the snack that could save my life.
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Bored Daddy
Love and Peace