Suitcase Tetris: Packing a Year of Diabetes Supplies for Study Abroad

The moment I saw the word "Congratulations" at the top of my email from the study abroad office, I didn't just see visions of the Eiffel Tower or the cobblestone streets of Prague. My brain immediately performed a very different kind of calculation: How on earth am I going to fit 365 days of insulin, pump sites, and Dexcom sensors into a suitcase?

The dream of spending a full year in Europe is something I’ve chased since freshman year. But as a Type 1 Diabetic, "packing light" isn't exactly in my vocabulary. While my roommates were debating how many pairs of boots they could fit, I was staring at a mountain of medical boxes that looked like they belonged in a small hospital wing rather than a 28-inch hardshell suitcase.

It’s easy to let the logistics of T1D make the world feel smaller. You start thinking that maybe a year is too long, or maybe you should just stay home where your pharmacy is five minutes away. But here is the truth: Type 1 Diabetes should never be the reason you stay grounded. With a little bit of "Suitcase Tetris" and a lot of planning, you can navigate the globe just as easily as anyone else. Let’s break down exactly how I managed to pack an entire year of life-saving supplies without losing my mind—or my luggage.

The Great Inventory: Doing the Math for 365 Days

Before you even touch a suitcase, you need to become a data scientist. When you’re living abroad for a year, "winging it" is not an option. I started by creating a master spreadsheet that would make an accountant weep with joy.

First, calculate your baseline. If you change your pump site every three days, that’s 122 sites a year. But here is the golden rule of T1D travel: The 20% Buffer. Sites fail. Sensors fall off in the Mediterranean. Insulin vials break on tile floors. You don't just need a year’s worth of supplies; you need 14 months' worth.

My spreadsheet included:

• Infusion sets and reservoirs: 150 units.
• CGM Sensors: 40 units (allowing for those annoying "sensor errors").
• Insulin: A mix of vials for the pump and long-acting pens for emergencies.
• Test strips: Even if you use a CGM, you need backup strips for when the tech glitches.
• Alcohol swabs, skin-tac, and over-patches: The "small" things that take up surprisingly large amounts of space.

The most critical step in this phase is checking expiration dates. There is nothing worse than getting six months into your journey and realizing your entire stash of sensors expires in October. I spent an afternoon at my kitchen table, rotating my stock like a grocery store clerk, ensuring that the newest supplies were at the bottom of the pile.

Mastering Suitcase Tetris: Strategic Packing Techniques

Once you have your mountain of supplies, the "Tetris" begins. If I had kept everything in its original packaging, I would have needed four suitcases just for my diabetes gear. This leads us to the controversial, yet essential, "De-boxing Method."

Most medical supplies come in boxes that are 70% air. By removing infusion sets and reservoirs from their outer cardboard boxes and placing them into large, clear Ziploc bags, I reclaimed nearly 40% of my suitcase space.

• Pro Tip: Cut out the prescription label and the lot number/expiration date from the box and slip it into the Ziploc bag. If you ever have a product recall or a question from customs, you still have the official info.

I also learned to use my soft supplies as "armor." I wrapped my fragile insulin vials in bubble wrap, then tucked them inside my socks, which were then stuffed into my shoes. This saved space and provided a triple-layer of protection against the rough handling of airport baggage (though, as we’ll discuss, the insulin itself stays with me).

When it comes to organization, packing cubes are your best friend. I dedicated three specific cubes solely to diabetes: one for "Daily Use" (stuff I’d need in the first month), one for "Backups," and one for "Emergency/Low Supplies." Vacuum seal bags are great for clothes, but avoid using them for medical tech like pumps or sensors, as the pressure can occasionally damage the delicate components.

The Golden Rule: Why My Supplies Never Hit the Cargo Hold

This is the hill I will die on: Never, ever check your life-saving supplies.

We’ve all heard the horror stories of luggage ending up in Timbuktu while the passenger is in London. For a T1D, that’s not just an inconvenience; it’s a medical emergency. I carried every single vial of insulin and every single sensor in my carry-on and personal item.

Many people don't realize that most airlines have a policy regarding medical bags. In many cases, a bag containing only medical equipment does not count toward your carry-on limit. I called my airline ahead of time, explained I was a Type 1 Diabetic moving abroad, and they flagged my file. I carried a separate, small duffel bag specifically for my gear that went into the overhead bin, while my "actual" carry-on went under the seat.

Distributing the weight is also key. I kept a "Go-Bag" in my backpack (the personal item) with 48 hours of supplies, while the rest stayed in the overhead bin. If the plane was ever evacuated or I got separated from my larger carry-on, I knew I had enough to survive the next two days.

The Paperwork Trail: Navigating Customs and Security

Walking into an airport with 50 syringes and a year's worth of "liquid gold" can feel like you're trying to smuggle contraband. The key to a stress-free security experience is documentation and confidence.

I carried a "Traveler’s Letter" from my endocrinologist. This isn't just a scribble on a prescription pad. It should be a formal letter on clinic letterhead stating:

1. Your diagnosis (Type 1 Diabetes).
2. That you require an insulin pump and CGM 24/7.
3. That you must carry insulin, needles, and glucagon at all times.
4. That your equipment cannot go through the X-ray machine or full-body scanner (if that is your preference—some tech manufacturers recommend against it).

For my year in Europe, I had this letter translated into French and Spanish. Even if you aren't fluent, showing a security agent a document in their own language instantly lowers the tension.

When you get to the TSA or security line, be proactive. I always say, "I am a Type 1 Diabetic. I have an insulin pump attached to me and a bag full of medical liquids and needles." Being upfront prevents the "What is this?" moment when they see your pump on the screen.

Keep It Cool: Managing Insulin Temperature Across Time Zones

Insulin is "liquid gold," and it’s temperamental. It hates the heat, and it hates being frozen. Keeping a year’s supply at the right temperature during a 12-hour flight and a 4-hour train ride is a challenge.

The absolute MVP of my trip was the Frio cooling wallet. These bags are activated by water and keep insulin at a safe temperature for days without needing a fridge. I had several large Frio bags for my bulk supply and a small one for the pens I kept in my pocket.

Once I arrived at my dorm in Madrid, my first task wasn't unpacking my clothes—it was checking the fridge. I brought a small, cheap travel thermometer to stick inside the dorm refrigerator. Dorm fridges are notorious for freezing everything in the back corner, and the last thing you want is to accidentally freeze a year’s worth of insulin on night one.

The Local Backup Plan: Researching Your Host Country

Even with the best packing, things happen. Part of being a "pro" T1D traveler is knowing how to navigate the local healthcare system before you actually need it.

Before I left, I spent a few hours researching the "local version" of my supplies. Did you know that insulin names can vary by country? Or that the concentration might be different? I found the nearest 24-hour pharmacy to my apartment and located an English-speaking endocrinologist nearby.

I also joined a few T1D Facebook groups for the city I was moving to. These communities are incredible. They can tell you which local pharmacies are the most helpful or how to navigate the local insurance requirements if you need an emergency prescription. Knowing there was a community of "Type 1 brothers and sisters" just a DM away gave me a massive boost of confidence.

Conclusion: You Are More Than Your Supplies

As I sat on my balcony in Spain three months into my trip, watching the sunset and snacking on some local tapas (bolusing carefully, of course), I realized that the "Suitcase Tetris" was worth every second of stress.

Yes, my suitcase was heavier than everyone else's. Yes, I had to spend an extra ten minutes at security. And yes, my dorm fridge was mostly filled with insulin rather than snacks. But those are small prices to pay for the freedom of being prepared.

When you take the time to do the math, organize the gear, and secure the paperwork, you stop being a "patient" and start being a "traveler." You aren't defined by the boxes of supplies in your luggage; you’re defined by the memories you’re making and the courage it took to get there.

So, to my fellow T1D adventurers: Pack the extra sensors. Print the letters. Do the Tetris. The world is waiting for you, and you have everything you need to see it.

Ready to start your own adventure? Download our "T1D International Travel Checklist" below and start packing!