And I love it. Even the chaos of travel. Even the suitcase that’s half-unpacked in my hotel room most nights.
Even the TSA lines and overpriced neck pillows. But what I don’t love—what I’ll never get used to—is navigating all that while living with type 1 diabetes.
I was diagnosed at twelve. Back then, it felt like my entire world changed overnight. No more spontaneous sleepovers without backup insulin. No more skipping meals.
No more candy unless it was a medical emergency. The thing is—most people don’t see diabetes. It’s invisible until it’s not. Until I’m shaking or sweating or reaching for glucose tablets in the middle of a meeting.
Or on an airplane.
Like I was that day.
It was a 10:15 a.m. flight out of