I never imagined I’d have to defend my right to eat a protein bar at 30,000 feet but here we are. I was flying from Chicago to Seattle, exhausted after an early morning meeting. As someone with type 1 diabetes, I know the signs when my blood sugar starts to drop. Shaky hands, lightheadedness, and an urgent need for food. So, I reached for a protein bar. That’s when the woman next to me a mother traveling with her husband and their screen-obsessed son hissed, “Can you not? Our son is very sensitive. The crinkling sets him off.”

I paused, stunned. I explained I had a medical condition, but she waved it off. “It’s just a short flight.” Reluctantly, I waited for the snack cart. When it finally arrived, her husband told the flight attendant to skip our row because their son “gets upset when others eat.” He didn’t even look up from his iPad. When I finally tried to order a snack and a Coke, both parents jumped in again. “She’ll have nothing,” the mom insisted. “It triggers our son.”

That was it. I turned to the flight attendant and said clearly: “I have type 1 diabetes. If I don’t eat, I could pass out. I will be eating. Thanks.” Suddenly, the mood shifted. The attendant brought my snack and soda immediately. I ate. I felt better. Then, the mom leaned in again. “I feel a calling to educate you about my son’s condition.”

I smiled and said, “Lady, I don’t care. I’ll manage my diabetes; you manage your meltdown-prone prince. If you need silence, book the row or better yet, fly private.” The rest of the flight? Quiet. The kid never even noticed I ate. And the parents? Not a word. That flight reminded me: Your health is not up for debate. You don’t owe anyone comfort at the cost of your well-being.

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