Her clothing bag was over her head. The medical supply one with her overflow of insulin, pumps and sensors was four aisles up. Where the flight attendant made her put it.
She stood to walk to it and was told to sit back down.
She waved her hand wildly hoping the flight attendant that thanked her earlier would come to her aid, but she got a shake of the head.
Trying to get the attention of the people ahead of her to get it for her proved fruitless. No one was helping her out in their heightened frantic emotions.
Saylor knew once they were told they could exit, everyone was going to rush toward her and she wouldn’t be able to go in the other direction.
That was exactly what happened when they were given the sign to exit.
She stayed in her seat. She’d be the last to go so she could get her bag.
But she had an aisle seat and those next to her weren’t happy to walk around her legs.
She stood for them and was told to get her bag and move herself.
“I need to get my second bag up there,” she said to someone.
“We need to get off this plane,” a man screamed. “I heard there is an electrical issue and there is smoke below us. Can’t you smell it?”
She couldn’t, but all it did was give a sense of urgent panic to those around her, pushing her away from her medical bag as if they were carrying her out on their shoulders in a mosh pit.
If it was true and this plane had issues, she wasn’t sure she could get back on it or how long it’d be before she could get that bag.
No matter how much she tried to turn around and go back, someone nudged her forward and yelled at her to move. Fear of being trampled was almost as great.
When she got to the gate, she stopped next to an employee.
“I need to get my carry-on, you don’t understand.”
The employee saw the bag over her shoulder. “Looks like you’ve got it.”
“No,” she said. She took a deep breath. Appearing as a frantic lunatic would not help her case. “I have two. Those are medical supplies I need on the plane. I’m a diabetic.” She pulled her sleeve up and showed him the medical ID bracelet she wore on her wrist.
“I’m sorry,” he said, wincing. “We aren’t supposed to let people back on. You should have grabbed it when you left. Someone will have to get it for you.”
She looked at the guy’s name tag. “Rob. Can you do it? Can you get someone to go on? I’m afraid once the plane moves and being stuck here, who knows how long it will take? It’s my insulin and pump supplies. Please.”
Rob looked around. She saw he was stressed and that people were pulling him in all directions to get information. “I can’t leave my post.” She was getting through to him as he was looking for someone else. At least she hoped that was the case.
“I’ll go do it. I don’t have a problem.” She took a step forward.
“Don’t make me call security,” the guy hissed and reached for her arm. “I know you’re upset, but I can’t do anything about it.”
He was being shouted at by other passengers now too.
If there was one thing in her life that put her in a panic, it was not having insulin.
She’d fought hard to avoid ketoacidosis again. Her pump held enough insulin for one more day, plus two backup pumps and insulin in her bag, enough to last maybe six more days. Thatis, if none of the pumps failed or leaked, and she didn’t lose her precious supply.
Things like that happened all the time.
You know, like the luggage Gremlins stole that ended up on another plane or under a bridge. Who the hell knew, but she wasn’t leaving this spot without that damn bag.
She couldn’t take that chance of losing her supplies. If lost permanently, she would have to pay thousands of dollars for those supplies out of pocket.
What an idiot she was not forcing the bag over her head when she had a chance.
