Summer Camp 2019 Part 3 : Monday

By Erin Schovel Turnham

Monday, June 10, 2019


Then an avalanche of guilt because I feel relieved. Alarm free sleep. Anxiety free sleep. Uninterrupted sleep. Just sleep.

This is going to read in part like an advertisement for summer camp. Because it is. Here is what camp offers parents.

  1. Camp strengthens marriage.
  2. Camp allows T1D parents a mental break.
  3. Camp shows parents their children in a new light.

Normally I am constantly watching my watch. It is usually a quick glance, to inform me of Grasshopper’s current blood sugar number, plus the speed and direction of his blood sugar. It takes much longer to describe what I’m doing than it does to do it. Still, it means I’m making hundreds of decisions a day just to manage his blood sugar. Most of the time they are quick decisions but there are so many.

I have that constant decision making always running in the back of my head like a T1D operating system. T1D 2.0 Suddenly I DON’T need to constantly take T1D into consideration with every decision. It is shocking after 6 years. It’s a little uncomfortable, disconcerting, liberating, and calming. This absence is a strange void. I will gladly do the T1D decision making for Grasshopper for as long as he needs, and I will gladly teach him how to do it. But this break is needed. I didn’t realize how much it was needed until I was in the midst of it. I think this break will make me a better substitute pancreas.

I don’t have many photos from Monday because I was soaking up time with Mr. Mister and enjoying being unplugged!

I didn’t cry Sunday when we left the house. I didn’t cry when we dropped Grasshopper off at Camp, or when we left Sunshine at he Aunt’s house. The goodbyes were cheerful and easy.

Typical me, I broke down later in a wave of relief. Followed by guilt because I have the luxury of taking a break. Grasshopper’s counselors and the doctors at camp are taking up those T1D tasks now and I can breathe. But Grasshopper doesn’t get a break from it. Ever. There’s always checking, dosing, poking, counting.

As I have told him before, I wish I could take it all away from him. I would, without a second thought. But I can’t. I can’t take it away and I can’t fix it. And that tears me up inside. Because I can’t take it away, I will do everything in my power to help him do this, teach him how to do it for himself, and do it well. I am committed.

We puttered around Monday, ate dinner at our favorite crab shack, and finished the evening with a walk on the beach.


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