When we left Bear at sleepaway camp last week, I experienced the most emotional pain I’ve voluntarily subjected myself to. I’m on the fence about whether it was the most emotional pain I’ve felt because I’m nearly certain that her diagnosis was worse, but I felt like I was shouldering that pain with others so I think it felt somewhat more diluted than this current hardness. Either way, this has to be the worst gut punch of my choosing.
While I know Aaron was scared and trepidatious about this current journey, and I know he’s been here with me every step of the way, it feels like I’ve traveled this path more alone. I think that I’ve felt that way for a couple reasons.
First, because it was my idea to send her, and I pushed for it. I knew that Aaron could and would say to me, when I would express sadness or fear, “Well, this was your idea; I didn’t suggest it.” And would be right to say it. Overnight camp was my idea, and it’s kinda been my thing from forever. So, if this goes sideways, it’s on me. I will own that. (But ow.)
Second, holy omg I can’t even. T1D can be so lonely in itself. What the mother effing are we we thinking?! She’s T1D, 11 years old, and can’t change her sites or sensors alone. And this camp, while it said it could do it, CANNOT DO IT. They’ve made her so nervous that she doesn’t want to go back to the health center. She’s avoiding them! And I can’t get in touch with them directly—I have to keep leaving messages—and I don’t get calls back. And yes, everyone: I get it. It’s a big camp. Lots of campers. But I’m not talking about a kid with a splinter or a sprained ankle (super legitimate injuries, by the way). I’m asking for help for a kid with a chronic illness who needs help to live.
I just want everything for her.
I want her to see the world. And to be able to move safely in it.
I read an article recently in the NYT in which a woman described how she felt when she first saw her newborn, and I couldn’t feel that it was more apt to how I feel with my 11 yo at camp. She said, “She was a part of me, like if someone took my heart and it was now separated from me and I could see it over there.”
life and puppies 
I remember my first exposure to TD1. It was at Girl Scout Camp when 3 or 4 girls went to the health cabin twice a day for glucose checks and insulin. Everyone took it in stride, except I’m guessing their mothers back home. Fear and worry are inevitable, but it won’t make the situation better. If you feel you have to pull her from camp, do so. Otherwise, try to have some faith and trust that it will all be okay.
oof is right. I did not do one thing and I
Nancy, that reminds me why we had thought of taking her off the pump for camp—giving the shots is something anyone can do. Leaving her on the pump is better for her overall health, but trickier for health professionals who aren’t trained on it (and most aren’t). But the good news is that through some super secret and Byzantine channels, i found my way to a T1D nurse who works at camp. She called me last night, and she is headed to camp on her day off to find Molly to make sure that her site is changed correctly today. I feel so much relief.
I should say, we like the pump better for her overall health. And she likes it better because it means fewer pokes.
But I may have messed her up forever because of this. Maybe she shouldn’t have gone until she can do this all herself because she’s feeling annoyed with the nursing staff–like they don’t know how to change the site properly. And whether that’s true or not, it’s obviously giving her a lot of anxiety. And it’s also taking a lot of time out of her other activities because the staff do seem to take a long time to do what takes usually just a couple of minutes to do (not criticizing them, just stating facts), so that’s making her feel left out of the things she has to miss. I know that this is all probably a great learning experience, but I wish that the stakes weren’t so high and that I could do more to ease her pain and worry.