My Diabetes vs. Their Demands: A Mid-Flight Confrontation
“The Day I Had to Defend Eating a Protein Bar on a Plane”
Never in my life did I think I’d have to defend my right to eat a protein bar on an airplane—and yet, there I was, somewhere between Chicago and Seattle, doing just that.
I’ve lived with type 1 diabetes since I was twelve. It’s a daily balancing act of monitoring blood sugar, planning meals, and always being ready for the unexpected. One of the golden rules: if your blood sugar drops, eat—immediately.
As our plane taxied down the runway, I felt that unmistakable wave of dizziness, the sweat, the fogginess creeping in. I calmly reached for the protein bar I always keep on hand.
That’s when the mother sitting next to me spoke up.
“Could you not eat that, please? My son has sensory issues. The sound and smell might really bother him.”
Her son, maybe nine or ten, sat by the window, quietly occupied with a tablet.
I hesitated. The symptoms were getting worse, but I didn’t want to cause distress. Against my better judgment, I said I’d wait for the snack cart.
Big mistake.
By the time it reached us—much later—the same parents asked the flight attendant to skip our row altogether, again citing their son’s “sensitivities.”
That’s when I reached my breaking point.
Loud enough for everyone nearby to hear, I said:
“I have type 1 diabetes. If I don’t eat something right now, I could lose consciousness. This isn’t optional. It’s medical.”
The flight attendant immediately understood and handed me juice and crackers without hesitation.
The parents glared, but I no longer cared. I wasn’t asking for special treatment—just the ability to manage a life-threatening condition.
Here’s the thing: Compassion goes both ways.
I empathize with families managing neurodiversity. I really do. But medical needs aren’t up for debate. When someone says they need food for a medical reason, believe them.
Because the scariest part of that flight wasn’t the turbulence.
It was realizing I had to argue for the right to stay conscious.