Most fliers have that one bad flight they can’t shake from their memory—the turbulent trip, the close call with a pelican, the flight with the overly perfumed passenger in 13B. Me? Every time I board a plane I’m haunted by one particular flight from Omaha, Nebraska, to Birmingham, Alabama.
These days as I debrief in the airport lounge with other business travelers, I wish I could wax eloquently about the near head-on collision we had with a flight bound for Orlando. Or talk about the newly enhanced woman I met en route from a cosmetic surgery clinic in Miami. (“These are new,” she gestured proudly.) Or even remember the time I was upgraded to first class and sat next to basketball legend Charles Barkley.
But the story that always comes to mind is that small flight from Omaha in 1999. I was a month away from being diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes and, unbeknownst to me, the symptoms were starting to make themselves evident. In my days before diagnosis, I frequented ice cream and frozen yogurt kiosks at airports before and between flights. I was a svelte (for me) 5′7” and 180 pounds, worked out at least three times a week, and ate and drank whatever I wanted. On the day of this flight, chocolate–peanut butter struck my fancy, and I passed the time before boarding by enjoying a double scoop.
By the time we were airborne, however, I wanted something else much more: water, lots and lots of water.
For diabetics there are several major symptoms of hyperglycemia, or high blood sugar: frequent urination, blurred vision, increased appetite, fatigue, erectile dysfunction, slow-healing cuts and sores, and increased thirst.
I (and the three flight attendants on that Southwest Airlines leg) have come to describe that latter symptom by a different, more accurate adjective: not increased, unquenchable.
The plane was still on an upward trajectory when I pushed the panic button—er, the passenger call button—next to the light switch. I felt like I was drowning in dryness. I couldn’t produce the tiniest bit of saliva.
It’s hard for a man with a ring of dried chocolate–peanut butter ice cream around his mouth to be taken seriously at 10,000 feet. But I implored the unhappy attendant for water. “Sir, we’re not serving the cabin right now,” she said with a chipper but annoyed smirk.
“I need water,” I hissed pathetically. “I’m sooo thirsty.”
The window passenger next to me rolled his eyes in a way familiar to business travelers everywhere. I make the same look every time a passenger whines for something they don’t need: “How could they seat me next to such an imbecile?” Now I was that imbecile, except I really, truly needed that water.
My thirst manifested itself in a look of desperation that satisfied the attendant. She brought me two measly four-ounce bottles that sated me for a few minutes. After that she and her colleagues made many trips on the three-hour flight. I was their high-maintenance passenger.
By the time we landed my thirst had subsided, but I was surrounded by a case of empty plastic water bottles and several astonished frequent-fliers. They had a story to share later at the airport lounge, while I was off to find the nearest urinal.
These days I seldom encounter the symptoms that led to my diagnosis. But I keep on lookout for them anyway; they are the best sign that something in my treatment is going wrong. And sometimes these symptoms let me know my body is out of whack before my best scientific instruments—blood sugar monitor and urine test strips—do.
Next time I can’t get enough water, I’ll know it’s time for some serious diabetic soul-searching.
Vital Statistics:
Managing diabetes is all about the numbers: blood sugar (normal approximately 70 to 120), caloric intake, calories burned, etc.
My average blood sugar: 140
This week’s high: 260
This week’s low: 90
My average nightly trips to the bathroom: 0
Trips to the bathroom Thursday night (at blood-sugar peak): 2
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