A Flight I Will NEVER Forget
In case you didn’t hear, my trip to Cali got off to a bumpy start, and I don’t mean the turbulence on the plane – although that never really helps either. My flight was at 6:20AM. Yes, that’s right, AM. That, of course, meant getting to the Philly airport close to 4:20AM. Again, yes, AM. That meant leaving the house at 4, so I got up at 3:10AM. When I am alive and awake at 3:10, 99.99% of the time, it’s because I haven’t gone to bed yet, and speaking of going to bed late, I hadn’t gone to bed until 2AM simply because I’m the most disorganized, neurotic packer on the planet. So there were a confluence of time factors working against me this morning. However, I’m the dummy who booked the flight, so ya, there’s that.
I don’t crawl out of bed at 3:10AM for no good reason though. I’ve been super excited about hanging out with George tonight, and going to tomorrow’s Behavioral Diabetes Institute’s Celebration of Strength Luncheon where I’ll get to meet Suzanne, Cherise and Jaimie, and hear Kelly Close speak. A few hours of missed shut-eye in exchange for so much concentrated awesome is a trade I’ll take any day.
The last time I flew, which would have been the flight home from BlogHer in Chicago, I learned that diabetics can have food and beverage items that the non-diabetic crowd are strong-armed into discarding prior to passing through security. The advantages to co-existing with D are few, so I added this to my list. In light of this revelation, I decided I was bringing juice boxes with me. I have gotten through security like any regular person before by sending my pump and CGM transmitter through the x-ray machine, but I decided to go gangsta style, setting off alarms and bringing the uniforms a-running. Well, it wasn’t quite like that, but it sounds good, right? The pump and CGM on my person meant getting pulled aside and wanded. The lady was super nice though, and having gone through this on enough occasions that I’ve lost count, I just went with it. After she swabbed my pump, I assume looking for explosives, I was released from the little glass booth. Good thing they didn’t swab for my explosively fantastic personality! Hmm, maybe lack of sleep is getting to me a little. Anyway, then one of the dudes wanted to go through my laptop bag. A pocket and compartment later, he pulled out the juice boxes with the sinister Elmo and Clifford the Big Red Dog, terroristic threats if ever there were some, and told me I couldn’t take the juice.
“I have diabetes.” Not as catchy as “a la peanut butter and jelly sandwiches”, but at least as effective. Just like that, he said, “OK”, put the juice back in my bag, zipped it up and I was on my way to the gate.
Once at the gate, I looked down the corridor, in hopes of finding a news stand or food concession that might have some Diet Coke for sale. Since it was still too-early-o’clock, the metal gates and darkness stood between me and every conceivable diet soda option. “Shucks!” Or maybe something that sort of rhymes with that. I sat in resignation, assuming everything would open at 6AM, likely right at the time I would be getting seated on the plane, and proceeded to litter the tubz with my complaints. 5AM, sunshiny, happy Lee Ann is the stuff of urban legends.
Then I heard beautiful music in the form of metal gates opening, and turned to see glorious light shining from the CNBC News Stand behind me. Oh, a Diet Coke, would in fact be in my tired grasp before I boarded the plane. Once the gate was fully opened and I saw other frumpy, tired passengers-to-be loitering at the magazine racks, I made my way to the chilled beverages, and grabbed a soda. I also found some interesting-looking flavored pumpkin seeds that I figured might appease my belly until I arrived at my layover destination, the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport where I intended to get something that resembled breakfast.
Eventually we boarded. I put my rolly bag in the overhead bin, sat in the window seat, and stored my laptop bag at my feet. As I was stashing my soda in the pocket with the emergency airsick bag and the Skymall catalog, my unknown traveling companions arrived and seated themselves next to me, an almost middle-aged woman with dark hair in a red peacoat, and a middle aged man in khakis and a striped button-down shirt. I don’t like to talk to strangers seated next to me. Avoid eye-contact, keep my nose in my phone or a book or Skymall, if necessary, and hope no one tries to befriend me. I’m anti-social. Sue me.
Khaki Pants promptly initiated small-talk with Red Peacoat, saying something about her coat and staying warm I think. She had an obvious northern Middle-America accent, taken straight from Fargo – the movie, I mean, although feel free to substitute the city if you prefer. She even said she was from Brainard, and I might have involuntarily smirked. Then there was mention of how they were expecting their first possible snowflakes later that day or evening in North Dakota. Khaki Pants said something like, “So much for global warming.” Then Red Peacoat responded with something about global warming being a government conspiracy, and Khaki Pants chuckled. So that’s how it was going be, eh?
My eyes widened, I sat up a little straighter, and I reached for my Crackberry to make a comment about how it was going to be a long flight if I was going to have to listen to wherever this discussion was headed for the next 3 hours. My efforts were intercepted though as Red Peacoat incredulously mentioned how she had just heard Obama received the Nobel Peace Prize, and Khaki Pants made a noise like he’d chose curtain #2 and gotten a donkey and year’s supply of sombreros. As I was trying to digest this, and wondering if there was anything I could say that wouldn’t be perceived as rude, but would make them STFU, the conversation turned to health care reform. He said something disdainful that I can’t remember, but so-oh-clearly indicating his obvious disapproval, and she complained about paying higher taxes to pay for other people’s health care.
Goodbye inhibitions. I flipped out. I don’t even remember what exactly I said, but it was something like, “I have type 1 diabetes,” as I grabbed my pump and held it out as exhibit A, “and I need health care reform because my supplies and medications are unaffordable.”
She spun her head around to look at me, and said something about how I should just get a job, and get my own health insurance, and not expect other people to take care of me. Khaki Pants leaned across her to tell me that diabetes care wasn’t that expensive, or something along those lines.
You know when cartoon characters hallucinate, and their heads make that boingy noise as they rattle them back and forth to shake the image out of their minds? That’s more or less what followed on my end of this exchange. I held out my pump again, and said, “I’m on a pump, and diabetes care is in fact extraordinarily expensive.”
And then, he totally took me off guard. He said I should just go back to NPH and Regular because they work just as well as newer insulins, and they’re a lot a more affordable. I looked at him like aliens just crawled out of his nostrils, trying to make sense of what I was hearing, and all I could say was, “What??”
If he said anything after that, it didn’t register. I really can’t describe how upset I was after that. I had to hold back tears as I sat and absorbed their conversation, especially his nonsense about NPH and Regular. I stewed the entire plane ride, thinking of everything I wish I had said, most notably, “Please tell me what medical journal articles from which you pulled that asinine assertion,” and “How exactly are you qualified to make that claim?”
They didn’t talk the rest of the flight. She read a book, I think he took a nap. So at least I succeeded in making them zip it, but the flight was ruined. Not that there’s anything I really enjoy about flying, but the peaceful nap time I had planned was left on the tarmac in Philly. When we landed he struck up a conversation with her again, and get this. I didn’t fully hear what he said, but he said he was a doctor, which at least explained how he even knew NPH and Regular existed – although I don’t know if he was a medical doctor – and she said she was a registered nurse. I was waiting for Rod Serling to stand up and smile from a seat ahead of me, or someone to jump up and exclaim, “You’re on Candid Camera!”
My head is still spinning over it. This is the level of ignorance we face. I said a couple of weeks ago, I’ve been brought to tears, the really messy, hysterical kind, contemplating that people actually exist “out there” who are opposed to health care reform and think so little of us and our quality of life. I sat with tears in my eyes, looking out the window at the carpet of clouds beneath us, trying to wrap my mind around this man’s belief that I should essentially sacrifice my life so his money doesn’t go towards helping people with long-term medical care needs. My life was that expendable to Khaki Pants and Red Peacoat. Our lives are that expendable to Khaki Pants, Red Peacoat, and all the people out there like tham.
It took a lot of courage to say something like that to them and I respect you for that! Fight the good fight!! – Bethany
P.S. I totally agree with you and think they are arrogant and entirely wrong-headed. Medicine is supposed to be a field of compassion and healing, they should know that.
Comment by Bethany — October 9, 2009 @ 7:19 pm
I hear a rumble….it’s getting louder and louder too.
Now, how do I find Khaki Pants and Red Peacoat so I can rumble with them, eh?
Ignorance is Not bliss.
Unfreakinbelieveable.
I am glad you are off that flight and hopefully, as of this moment, in the arms of The George. Soon you will be around those that love you and care about you.
So sorry you had to endure such blatant crap. ((hugs))
Comment by Crystal — October 9, 2009 @ 7:34 pm
wow. That is NOT the way I would want to start my day. Its unbelieveable how some people are. If only they knew a teeny tiny bit of how it was to live with diabetes they would change their tune. What I also find really odd is that this doctor would reccommend Regular and NPH. yea maybe its cheaper, but it SUCKS. I never want to be on that crap again!There is no control with that insulin. Ok im done ranting!! I’m so sorry that happened to you, have fun in cali!!
Comment by jenny — October 9, 2009 @ 7:37 pm
It’s a shame that people have become so self centered that compassion is considered a sin.
2 Cheers for standing up to those idiots. Even if you didn’t have the perfect zinger ready to come back at them with, you have more character than they do for at least trying to have a conversation with them based on facts…based on reality.
Thankfully the rest of your trip will f*cking rock. Have fun out west.
Comment by Chris — October 9, 2009 @ 7:39 pm
assinine, indeed. (nice coat, thought
Comment by Nan — October 9, 2009 @ 7:56 pm
I got into a similar “discussion” with a jerk in line at the grocery store. He told me the same thing about getting a job and buying my own health insurance. I told him my husband and I both have to work thanks to the economy of the past 8 years even though I have a myriad of health problems and that we do have insurance. Paying $400-$500 a month average for co-pays after insurance premiums is just ridiculous! He mouthed off again about people taking care of themselves and I told him I hoped he lost his job soon and his apparently 100% paid employer health insurance along with it. The cashier gasped. I proceeded to tell him that I’d say hello to him when I was dropping off donations at the food bank while he was standing in line, not being able to purchase food from Safeway (where I was shopping) because he had just been to the pharmacy to buy medication for his sick kid without insurance. I told him “when you’ve spent a week’s worth of family grocery money on a single prescription, maybe you’ll be a little more wise and compassionate. Until then, I guess you’ll just remain an ass.” By then several people were listening. I got some scowls and some cheers.
It is hard to believe that a doctor and nurse would be against people getting decent healthcare. Lots of doctors support the healthcare reform plans. It’s even harder to fathom khaki pants stating that NPH and regular would be equal to a pump. I wonder what the h*ll he was a doctor of! Even the primary care docs out in the middle of no where, where I live, know pumps are better. They might not have a clue as to how to handle pump therapy, but at least they know it’s better than NPH and Regular!
Put jerks like khaki pants and red peacoat into the “Huh?!?” category along with the senior citizens protesting against the socialism of health care reform, all the while getting Social Security and Medicare.
Comment by Michelle — October 9, 2009 @ 8:32 pm
Ugh. Even I would have spoken up to those doofuses (doofi?)
Comment by Rachel — October 9, 2009 @ 9:50 pm
Oh ya baby, I got a nurse story too…I struck up a conversation with a nurse at the park. I spent the better half of our time there talking to her about the boys pumps and the long nights with unpredictable numbers that were making me crazy. She was very sympathetic and nice. But here’s the kicker…when we parted ways she said, “Good luck with your boys, that’s why I’m REALLY careful about what I put in my kids lunches, I don’t want to have your problems.”
Talk about a WTF moment.
Good for you speaking up!
(And PS, after picking my chin up from the ground, that nurse got an earful from me.)
Comment by Meri — October 10, 2009 @ 12:09 am
yow, what idiots!!!! Here’s hoping your meet-up out west will provide a more than karma-balancing fantastic time to balance out having to sit next to the f*ckheads. I really feel bad for any of their patients, though!!!!
And Michelle #6, **applause!***
Comment by val — October 10, 2009 @ 9:50 am
Oh Lee Ann… good for you for giving those a$$holes a what-for. But listen: they’re idiots. And even if all of us T1s worked diligently, 24-7, to educate, enlighten and otherwise try to clean up and rid of the world of its idiots, we would FAIL. For the sake of your own good heart, don’t let ‘people’ like this make you cry or ruin your trips. They’re simply not worth much more than your pity. And while you’re pitying them close your eyes for a sec, take a deep breath, and remember that though you’re alone in that airplane seat at that instant, there are so many around you and behind you, in spirit, that feel differently because they know better — and we are all wishing you a fantastic trip!
Comment by Laura — October 12, 2009 @ 9:17 am
Leann,
Glad you had a good trip (once you got down there). I don’t understand people’s theories on this health insurance thing but then I have to remember that they really don’t understand us. I didn’t until I began living with someone with it. And it has been 9 years into our marriage and my husband has finally come to see how much I do on the insurance end of things for his T1. I am constantly battling–for him! It’s not anything he’s ever had to do. And he has now seen how hard it is and how much HCR is needed.
Comment by Traci — October 12, 2009 @ 1:50 pm
It is RIDICULOUS how ignorant most doctors are about Type 1. Number one reason to not trust ANY doctor but your endo, and even then sometimes it’s iffy….
Good for you for trying to educate! It’s much more than I would have done. Too bad they are so blinded by their “expertise” to learn something from you.
Comment by Renee — October 13, 2009 @ 12:24 am
I’ve had this conversation.
With my father.
Which pisses me off. Because he has been with me at every diabetes education session, at every doctors appointment, until I was about 18.
But talk to him about the left wing health care mumbo jumbo (his words, not mine) and he says if I can’t afford new treatments I can just do what I did 11 years ago.
Thanks, Dad. You try having diabetes for a while.
Comment by Sajabla — October 13, 2009 @ 12:22 pm
If I may – speaking as a conservative, who also happens to be a T1 – I was diagnosed in May of this year, and I’m on MDI – still in that honeymoon phase apparently as well. I can understand your getting upset with these people. They’re obviously uneducated in the cost/cause of diabetes. However, going off on them is not what’s going to get minds changed. I mean, think about it – for the most part, you folks are years and years ahead of me on diabetes knowledge – I’ve only been diagnosed with it for five months now (today, in fact), but that puts me five months ahead of the people that were on the aircraft with you. What we need to do is educate, not alienate, and this was a perfect opportunity to do so. I’m very open about my T1 – all my co-workers know, and the ones that were initially saying “Oh, I’m so sorry,” now know that it’s not a death sentence, like they thought it was. They’ve learned that it’s something I’m having to adapt to, they’re learning about the cost, the technology (it helps that we’re all geeks on a help desk). They’re learning about the history and the future.
We can’t assume that Joe or Joan Stranger on the street is going to understand about the cost behind the disease. If I were to come up to you and try to talk about replacing a TOBI Duct or a bleed strap, would you have any idea what I was talking about? Unless you used to be a 2A671A, then the answer is probably not. If I got angry with you because you didn’t understand, would that help the situation – no. Again – we need to educate, not alienate. And it’s small steps, not giant leaps. I didn’t go from a 278 average to a 109 average in 1 day. It took a lot of small steps, and a lot of insulin (have I mentioned that I hate needles?) to get there.
If we want to change things, and things do need to change, then we need to always be ready to educate people. Draw them into the fold, engage their hearts and minds – you can’t force compassion – besides, honestly – I don’t want their sympathy or sorrow (see the definition of compassion) – I want their empathy and understanding.
Again – education, not alienation. That’s the only way to get true change to occur.
Comment by Bob — October 14, 2009 @ 5:16 am
[...] care reform and politics seem to be the hot topic of conversation between strangers on airplanes (read Lee Ann’s experience). It’s a weird thing for me. It’s definitely not something that I’d want to bring [...]
Pingback by What Is It About Airplanes And Health Care Reform » RideToRemedy.com - Riding To Cure Diabetes — October 16, 2009 @ 5:19 pm
Lee Ann, I am sooo sorry you had to sit next to those nincompoops for three hours! Having gotten into a couple of Facebook debates with people about health care reform, and having gotten similarly upset about it, I feel for you. I wish stuff like this didn’t chap my ass so badly, but it does, because it’s about MY LIFE, while these people are bitching about their wallets. We have a national deficit now because my tax dollars paid for a war of which I didn’t approve, but apparently my getting health care (and I have a job and insurance, which doesn’t cover my costs) upsets them because it’ll cost a tiny fraction of what that war does. Good for you and for Michelle in #6 (whose reply I might borrow for the next time someone goes off on me on Facebook) for standing up to these jerks.
And Bob, you do make a great point about educating people, but I have a couple of thoughts on that: firstly, I doubt Lee Ann had much of a chance of getting through to a doctor and a nurse who are clearly, unfortunately, extremely stupid. It’s heartbreaking that not all medical professionals are smart and compassionate, but as an administrator in a multi-specialty medical clinic, and a 21-year Type 1, I can tell you they’re not. Working with some of these people every day, I really wonder how they got their pants on that morning, never mind how they graduated from med school. Secondly, not to pull some sort of diabetes-big-sister crap on you, but give it a couple decades, and you’ll be amazed what you hear come out of people’s (even medical professionals’, even YOUR health care team’s) mouths. And we can use for them the excuse that they don’t know how hard it is when they haven’t experienced it, but I have dozens of non-diabetic friends and loved ones who make it clear to me on a regular basis that they don’t know what I’m going through but they know it’s hard and that they have no right to judge me. That’s called compassion, and just about everyone, working pancreas or not, is capable of that if they try hard enough and just THINK for a second before shooting off their mouths.
Comment by Jasmine — October 19, 2009 @ 8:07 pm
There are so many wise comments on this post and I agree with all of you. I’m so sorry Lee-Ann thay you had to endure those idiots. Cheers to you!! I do agree with #14 Bob tho, education is the key, unfortunately even among medical professionals.
I do sometimes travel from Seattle to Minneapolis/St.Paul and if I ever see you there (waiting for breakfast), I’ll flash you my Medic Alert bracelet and we can compare our T1 stories.
Comment by Gail — October 21, 2009 @ 2:26 am
Wow. Just wow.
Comment by Scott K. Johnson — October 25, 2009 @ 8:59 pm