Diabetes Blog Week! Wild Card
It’s Day 2 of Diabetes Blog Week!
Today the prompt was about cost of Diabetes care in this country. The topic is one that I feel passionate about, but it felt heavy, dark, and honestly–I didn’t feel like writing about it! Instead of skipping a day, here goes the wild card!
Wild Card Prompt: Whether you or your loved one are newly diagnosed or have been dealing with diabetes for a while, you probably realize that things can (and will) go wrong. But sometimes the things that go wrong aren’t stressful - instead sometimes they are downright funny! Go ahead and share your Diabetes Blooper - your “I can’t believe I did that" moment - your big “D-oh” - and let’s all have a good laugh together!!
The scene was Diabetes camp the summer after I turned eight. As I entered my cabin filled with sobbing, homesick little diabetic girls (four of which were quadruplets named Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter) I was filled with excitement- as well as a fear of being away from home. The quadruplets have nothing to do with the story, but they are one of the most standout memories from camp, partially because their hair turned bright green in the pool.
Let me preface the story with this… I was an eight-year-old who would order dishes like pecan-crusted trout when out at restaurants. I still enjoyed most “kid foods”, but I had tastes beyond my years. Needless to say, camp dinner was much different than the typical foods I loved.
Camp dinner went down as follows.
Upon arrival at dinner each child would pick out a tray, grab the carb count, and go get an injection from a camp nurse. We would sit down to eat and then have our trays inspected to see if we had consumed enough carbs. Most nights, I couldn’t do it. Force feeding an eight-year-old foods that they do not like is a struggle. Knowing that, the camp had a huge supply of dry, tasteless crackers. If a childs’ plate had too many carbs left on it at the end, they would have to stand at the counter and eat crackers in front of the nurse until the carb allotment was met. I was no stranger to that counter.
My salvation became the sugar-free gum and diet soda available for purchase, as well as nightly trays of “free-foods” that came around the cabin. Cheese, ham, turkey, and pickles were passed around each evening before bed. I think my fear of hating the next meal created this need in me to stock up on what I could, when I could.
I found out in later years that I used to come home from camp with turkey, cheese, and pickles stuffed into my pillow case! My mom would not only get an exhausted eight-year-old back, but I came with moldy food! YUM!