Chapter 1 - Alex
“You’ll have fun.”
My mom was trying to convince me I would like this stupid camp. My new doctor had told her about it back in April.
God, April sucked. And it never got any better. It still hasn’t.
Let me back up. I’ll introduce myself and explain why I’m even here.
My name is Alexandra Boynton, but I’d rather be called Alex. I’m fifteen years old, not terribly tall. I'm 5’ 4”. I like baseball and hockey and am definitely not a “girly girl.”
I’ve always been kind of ‘rough and tumble’ and would play catch or go skating with my dad until he left my mom and me when I was 12. He said he’d fallen out of love with my mom and was now going to move in with his thirty-year-old secretary, Jules.
He said he’d come back and visit. Or that I could visit him over the summer.
But I haven’t heard from him in three years. So, so much for that. I don’t care. He doesn’t. Why should I?
So that’s me in a tiny nutshell. As for why I’m in this stupid car, well, last winter, I kept getting sick. Or, instead, I got sick and just never seemed to get any better. I was feeling weak and tired, I was always thirsty, and because I was constantly drinking water, I was also going to the bathroom—a lot.
When it got to the point that I spent more time sleeping and out of school than I did at school and awake, Mom dragged me to the doctor, who examined the heavy luggage under my eyes, how exhausted I looked, and how skinny I was getting, even though Mom said my eating habits hadn’t changed much.
The doctor took some blood, made me pee in a cup, did all the usual exams and then told my mom he wanted to try something. He came back into the room with this little device, poked my finger and put a tiny drop of blood on this little strip in the machine.
When it beeped, he looked at the number, went pale and told my mom to take me straight to the hospital. He told her not to go home but to go straight to the emergency room and that he was calling ahead.
At that point, I was just too tired to care and wanted to go home so I could go to sleep. But Mom insisted on going to the hospital despite my protests.
It turned out it was a good thing my mom didn’t listen to me. I guess.
Because according to the nurses, a couple of days later, I was practically in a coma by the time we got to the hospital. I barely even remember getting there. I just put my head on the window and closed my eyes against the fatigue.
I woke up in a hospital room. I’d lost the entire day. And night.
That day, the doctor came to talk with me. He told me I have diabetes. My blood sugar was so high on admission that I’d already gone unconscious, and had they not been able to get it down quickly, I would have possibly lapsed into a coma, and I could have died.
Would that have been so bad?
Because now I have to measure and weigh every bite of food I *might* want to eat. I have to give myself a shot every time I want a snack or a meal. I have to eat when I have to eat. I can’t just grab a snack like I used to.
I have to check that I have enough insulin so that my sugar isn’t too high to eat. It’s all so stupid. Stupid pancreas deciding just to give up.
“I thought only fat people get diabetes,” I said to the diabetic nurse who was supposed to be helping me learn how to treat the diabetes. “Or people who eat a lot of food with sugar.”
“Well, while diet can affect a person’s risk factors, that’s more for Type 2 patients who can’t use the insulin their body produces effectively. And weight is not a determining factor.
As for people like you, you are Type One. Your pancreas no longer produces insulin, which makes your body unable to process carbohydrates and sugars. Carbohydrates break down into sugar during digestion, which your body can no longer handle.
This is why you have to take insulin before every meal or snack and why you have to eat on a schedule; you have to keep your blood sugars as stable as possible.
You can live a long and productive life with diabetes, Alex,” she said.
That did not make me feel better. I didn’t want this, and I wouldn’t let it change what I do or how I live my life. Stupid insignificant organ thinking it controls everything? Not a chance.
And now I was stuck in this stupid car going to this stupid camp that I had no business going to. I’m not like those kids. I’m not disabled. I just have a stupid organ that doesn’t do its job properly - or at all. That’s not a disability. It’s not like I’m in a wheelchair or on crutches or can’t speak or hear or something. I’m not disabled! I’m fine!
“Did you hear me, Alex?” Mom said.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll have fun,” I muttered into the window as I watched the road outside as Mom turned onto a dirt road. We passed under a sign that went over the road. Like a gate, I guess. Well, it was a gate. I guess that’s how they keep people from driving into the camp in the winter or when it’s not being used as a camp.
I could see a short lineup of cars ahead of us, and I could hear the counsellors cheering as each car passed. Ugh. I hate how peppy they sound.
“Yes, but I also said, please be careful, be nice, and try to make friends. You never know. You might find a kindred spirit.” Mom smiled at me as we pulled forward, and she handed my forms to the counsellor at her window.
“I’m going to be surrounded by a bunch of gimps for a month. I’m not like them!” I said, watching a counsellor helping a camper out of their car and into a wheelchair.
The camper’s arms and legs were sticking out all over the place, and the kid was drooling. But he was a boy, and maybe eight or nine, so I knew I wouldn’t have to deal with him. What use is camp for a kid like him? I sighed.
“First of all, missy - don’t you dare call anyone here a ‘gimp.’ That’s rude and derogatory. And no, you aren’t like them. But you’re more like some of them than you may realize.
And this camp will help you manage your diabetes without you, as you so eloquently put it last night, feeling like a ‘freak’ when you have to test your sugar and take your insulin.
You’ll see. It’s not going to be as bad as you’re allowing yourself to believe,” Mom said. I frowned. I don’t want to be here.
“Hey everyone! This is Alex!” The annoyingly cheerful voice of a counsellor said, as she opened the door.
It definitely did not help my attitude that the car was surrounded by what looked like every counsellor at camp.
Okay, five of them. But still, way too many people were way too close.
“Welcome to Camp, Alex! Come on out, let’s grab your luggage and get you all registered!”
She was annoyingly perky. I crossed my arms and stared ahead.
“It’s been a long drive,” Mom told the counsellor. I shot her a look. “Come on, Alex. Get a move on.”
Ugh. Mom was smiling at me with that ‘get out of the car before I lose my shit on you and behave yourself for a change’ look in her eyes.
I glared at her as I undid my seatbelt, got out of the car and opened the back door to pull out my backpack, the stupid bag of meds and supplies I had to bring, and my duffel bag that I rammed enough clothes into that should last a month.
All being well, I’d be able to get myself kicked out in a few days anyway. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about any of this crap. Mom said good bye to me and I was led away from her car by two of the annoyingly perky counsellors, whose names I hadn’t bothered to register.
They led me down the road to where a few tables were set up, with other campers, mostly younger kids, some in wheelchairs, some on crutches, some who looked spaced out, and some who, like me, looked completely normal.
The counsellors told me this was the registration area, turned around and returned to where a few more cars were trickling in, leaving me completely alone with a bunch of strangers in line.
I went through the registration process, which seemed to take forever. Mom sent all this information, so why do I have to go over it again?
“Here you go, Alexandra,” the counsellor at the table said, handing me a card. “This is your med badge. You’ll need it when you go for med times, so that the nurses know which camper is which, and which meds you require.”
I rolled my eyes. I’d skip that as often as possible.
“Follow me,” the irritatingly happy and smiling counsellor waiting by the table said. The name badge on her lanyard read, ‘Michelle’. “I’ll take you to your cabin, and you can meet your cabinmates.”
No one is this naturally happy. The staff is undoubtedly all on some powerful meds. Now that I could get into.
“There are seven other girls in your cabin, and I think they may have gone down to the infirmary for meds already. You’re the last one to arrive,” Michelle smiled at me.
Great, I thought to myself, so much for being inconspicuous. First, they shouted my name in the car line, surrounded me by some kool-aid drinking hippies, and now I’m the last to arrive, so everyone will see me when they return from the infirmary, and I’ll have to answer all the same questions again!
“Just leave your bags by the door and grab your med stuff. I’ll take you down to where your group is, and give you a little bit of a tour of camp on the way,” Michelle smiled at me.
I rolled my eyes. If I kept that up, I’d likely lose them in the back of my head eventually.
And now I couldn’t avoid everyone noticing me.
29 more days. Unless I can get myself kicked out sooner.
