Holiday Fun...?

I've written about traveling before on this blog. It's a topic that scares those of us who deal with diabetes because it can be complicated to manage our condition when on the road. The first few trips after we're diagnosed, the learning curve can seem pretty steep. But once we've got the hang of it, managing our diabetes while traveling can become just one more logistic like not forgetting your toothbrush and remembering to bring an extra pair of shoes. Until the unpredictable happens, that is. And then things can get interesting.

Most of the time, everything goes exactly as you hope it will. Unfortunately -- such as in the case of my return to Louisiana from New York City after Christmas -- a nightmare descends and you really get to find out what you're made of.

The airlines had routed me home through Chicago. And getting to O'Hare Airport was a routine affair. But shortly after arriving in the Windy City, the announcement was made that weather conditions were going to delay our flight. Then all flights. Then delays became cancellations. Morning turned into afternoon and then evening. Lines to confirm new flights stretched interminably, snaking through the airport everywhere. Then lines became crowds. Tempers flared loudly. Children wept in frustration. Dogs barked. Travelers had to vie for plug-in locations to charge their dying phones. And announcements threatened that this might go on for three days.

It was at this point it occurred to me that, while we were all being inconvenienced and nobody wants to sleep in an airport, people on insulin have another issue entirely in a situation like this. I had brought enough insulin, other medication, and needles to last one extra day "just in case," but never imagined it could actually be longer before I got home. And when I reported my dilemma to a flight attendant behind a counter I had waited in line two hours to approach, she just snapped unapologetically, "We could call you an ambulance, if you want." If it hadn't been for an elderly woman inching across the floor with a cane at that very moment not far from where I stood, I might have lost my cool. But I was not the only one with a problem. And the poor flight attendant's nerves must have been shredded by then.

In the end, after spending thirteen hours at O'Hare, I managed to get on a 10:30 pm flight to Houston Monday night, sleep in my knee-high boots for a few hours in the airport chapel there, and make an early morning flight into New Orleans where I picked up my car and drove the hour home. I arrived with four needles left. And a mental commitment never again to assume that one day's extra supplies will cover me.

Things that helped: breathing exercises (see the chapter on "Tools" in my book, Your Life Isn't Over ~ It May Have Just Begun!), practicing mindfulness (staying in the moment, consciously rejecting the urgency to panic or obsess over what I was going to do if I ran out of supplies), working on a project I really wanted to finish, taking the time to search out food that wouldn't hurt me, and reminding myself when I felt agitated that everybody else was doing the best they could, too.

Above all else, I absolutely refused to let myself descend into a downward spiral of self pity. The little old lady with the cane, the faces of parents with small children in tow, and the thought that there were probably many travelers in that airport who had no money for expensive airport food helped to keep me emotionally balanced. But it is something I have to work at. I'm not naturally a Pollyanna -- especially when I'm exhausted and afraid.

When I arrived home, I treated myself like a small child who had just been traumatized. I required nothing of myself until I was damn good and ready and even when I took on a necessary task (like going to the grocery), I moved with slow intention.

As the days have passed since my traveling adventure, the trauma passes, too, but what has remained is a heightened sense of gratefulness. That I got safely home with needles to spare. That I weathered the situation with grace and at least some degree of dignity. That I managed my glucose level remarkably well under the circumstances. And that I am home, sleeping in my own bed, eating out of my own refrigerator, welcoming a new year with open arms and a strong sense of my own ability to handle whatever comes my way.