I've said it before and I'll say it again and again. For my daughter, it cures her soul. The camaraderie of a whole week of same-ness. It clears out the cobwebs of 'I am the only one with this disease' and the 'I cannot do this one more day' and the 'If only someone knew how I felt.'
For six whole days, people completely understand.
For six whole days, people check and treat and change pump sites.
For six whole days, everyone counts carbs.
For six whole days, everyone knows what you are talking about when you say bolus, basal, temp basal, and extend.
For six whole days, diabetes rocks.
This year, I walked the same walk I have done the last two years to pick her up. And I missed her so. But this year, there was a complete sense that everything was right about it. Her decision to go. Our decision to send her. Her friends and cabinmates. Her counselors. It all seemed so very right. It's where she is meant to be for part of her summer.
All the campers assembled and sang for the parents. Cheesy, and completely right, camp songs. Every. Single. One. of the the kids sang, even the teens. Cause when they launch into the 'pirate song' at camp, you better damn well sing. And a community is formed. In six short days. And by God, it is beautiful.
They end every year with singing the unofficial 'official' camp song - 'Waltzing with Bears' while the head counselor, a man with more unbridled joy than any one human being should have, plays his instrument. And every one sings.
And when the head counselor says 'One more time, until next year!' everyone belts out the song, and sways in time to the music.
For six whole days, community.