Well, we are there this week. Not we as in my son and I, but we as in my son and my heart. My son is now 11, and he hasn’t been to camp since he was 7. It’s a one week away camp for kids with diabetes and it should be the greatest week of our year. Shoulda. Woulda. Coulda.
He should be able to feel like he is not alone in this fight of being a kid with T1.
He should be able to make friendships with kids that fight the same fight so he has someone that knows how he feels.
He should be able to enjoy himself doing regular camp-y things, like fishing, canoeing, archery, while not once thinking about diabetes as his counselors think about it for him.
Shoulda. Woulda. Coulda.
I should be able to sleep through the night without having to get up and check his sugar, or his CGMS.
I should be able to enjoy leaving the house without all our D supplies, leaving me more room in my bag to carry things like chapstick.
I should be able to eat out on a whim without worrying about guessing carb counts and now gluten free foods.
Shoulda. Woulda. Coulda.
What’s really happening is he is not happy. He is giving his ‘hating this’ sign in every single picture I see of his face. So much so that I am wondering if he is just keeping that face on in case someone takes his picture without looking.
What’s really happening for me is I am confused. Confused because I feel out of sync. Not having care about diabetes for a week is just plain weird. Seven years is a long time. My pajamas have become my BFF. I have forgotten to eat meals, nevermind eating out. I’ve left my wallet home because I don’t even remember how to carry a bag without D stuff.
Thankfully my daughter thinks this is the greatest week in her life as I am binge watching all her favorite shows with her. She has taken the lead on everything this week, which is pretty awesome to see. So diabetes camp is a win-win for my daughter without diabetes.
What I am taking away from this week of shoulda, woulda, couldas, is that we’ve done a great job dealing with diabetes. We’ve done spectacular at making diabetes fit into our lives and not the other way around. My son doesn’t need to fill any holes with his diabetes.
The friends.
The support.
The activities.
We have it right here at home. He didn’t need to go to camp to find it, it was here all along.
Enjoyed reading this post about camp and brought back many great memories of diabetes camp at Camp Hamwi in Central Ohio more than 40 years ago! For me, camp was mostly positive, although I do remember a few parts I didn’t like at the time. The thing is, years later, I’m so glad my parents sent me. Here’s my story of camp: http://michaelcmack.com/2014/06/23/camp-hamwi-and-the-shot/