I’m Emma, a marketing consultant whose life is a whirlwind of flights and client meetings. I love the hustle—new cities, hotel perks, and career wins—but Type 1 diabetes, diagnosed at 12, adds a challenge. My body needs insulin and snacks to keep my blood sugar stable, or I risk serious health scares. Friends and coworkers support my needs, but on a Chicago-to-Seattle flight, I met parents who demanded I skip eating to prevent their son’s tantrum, pushing me to defend my health in a way that silenced them.
Rushed from a dawn meeting through airport chaos, I collapsed into my aisle seat, dizzy and trembling—my blood sugar was crashing. Next to me, a couple coddled their nine-year-old, who fussed over his seat while playing on a sleek tablet. As I grabbed my protein bar, the mom whispered sharply, “Please don’t eat. Our son’s sensitive to smells.” Her son, nibbling candy, didn’t care, but she insisted it might spark a meltdown. I stashed the bar, hoping the drink cart would come soon, my condition worsening.
When I ordered a soda and snack, the dad leaned over. “No food for us. Our son gets upset.” I was floored. “I have Type 1 diabetes,” I announced. “I need to eat, or I could collapse.” The flight attendant served me, and passengers nearby glanced at the parents, who scowled. “Our son has needs,” the mom said. I nodded at his candy. “He’s eating. Control him, not me.” She tried lecturing, but I stopped her. “My health isn’t negotiable. Buy the row next time.” The rest of the flight was quiet, her son engrossed in his game.
Standing up for my health felt liberating. Diabetes isn’t obvious, but it’s critical, and no one’s comfort outweighs my safety. That flight taught me to hold my ground, a lesson I carry everywhere, reminding me that advocating for myself is a right, not a privilege, in any challenging situation.
