A Cabin Full of Snakes & A Heart Full of Gratitude,

The Camp Hendon Chronicles

Medical Nutrition Therapy Rotation, End of Week 6

This last week, I had the privilege of participating in something that was 23 years in the making. I attended Camp Hendon, a camp for children living with type 1 diabetes (T1D) that provides life-changing experiences, helps campers build their community, and empowers them with the tools to take ownership of their diabetes journey. It was an experience that will stay with me for years to come and one that has already changed me in ways I probably don’t even realize yet.

Last Saturday, through a torrential downpour, myself, 14 of my fellow cohort members, and students, staff, volunteers, and healthcare professionals from across Kentucky converged on Camp Loucon to prepare for the week ahead. We expected late nights and very little sleep, but I don’t think any of us were prepared for just how much this week would shape our skills, deepen our understanding, and strengthen our appreciation for what it truly means to live with type 1 diabetes every single day.

The calm before the (organized) chaos. We had no idea what the week ahead had in store for us. 🏕️😴

Throughout the week, one of the most rewarding parts of camp was watching the campers build their own T1D community. Children who had arrived knowing no one were soon laughing together, cheering each other on, exchanging stories about insulin pumps and CGMs, and leaving with new diabesties who understood them in a way many of their classmates back home simply couldn’t. For one week, they didn’t have to explain why an alarm was going off, why they needed a snack before swimming, or why they had to step away to check their blood sugar. They simply got to be kids.

One of the most inspiring moments came from one of our newly diagnosed campers. On the first night, she was so homesick that we genuinely weren’t sure she would make it through the evening. Like many children experiencing camp for the first time, being away from home felt overwhelming. As counselors, our role wasn’t to solve every problem but to meet her where she was, encourage her, and help her find the confidence to keep going.

By the end of the week, she had completely transformed. She volunteered to lead our cabin by pulling the wagon from activity to activity, had formed friendships with every camper in our den, and was eagerly stepping outside of her comfort zone by trying new insulin injection sites and Dexcom placement locations. Watching that confidence blossom over just a few short days reminded me that camp isn’t just about diabetes education, it’s about helping children discover just how capable they truly are.

I was fortunate to spend the week with nine energetic girls in the Snakes cabin, and if there’s one thing I learned, it’s that ten-year-olds have enough energy to keep anyone on their toes. I had just spent a week with my nieces and nephews before camp and thought they had worn me out, but nothing could have prepared me for our lively group of Snakes. Between games, crafts, swimming, blood sugar checks, insulin dosing, and countless laughs, there was never a dull moment.

One of my favorite traditions quickly became our nightly “Highs and Lows.” Before bed each evening, we gathered together and shared one high point from the day and one low point. Sometimes the highs were silly, winning a game, making a friendship bracelet, or getting extra time at the pool. Other times they were much deeper, like feeling brave enough to give an injection independently or finally feeling like they belonged. The lows often reminded us that everyone was carrying something different, whether it was missing family, feeling frustrated by diabetes, or simply having a rough blood sugar day.

On our final evening, after dancing our socks off at the Toga Party and roasting marshmallows around the campfire, we invited the boy Snakes to join us for one last round of Highs and Lows. Listening to each camper reflect on the week and seeing how much every single one of them had grown in such a short amount of time was incredibly moving. It was proof that spending even one week surrounded by people who truly understand your everyday struggles can build confidence, create lifelong friendships, and leave a lasting impact long after camp has ended.

Proof that diabetes camp is still camp. . .and the Toga Party did not disappoint! 🏛️🎉

This week also strengthened skills that I know will benefit me throughout my career as a future registered dietitian. While empathy has always been important to me, camp challenged me to express it differently. Every interaction required me to meet each child where they were emotionally and developmentally. Sometimes that meant helping a camper work through homesickness. Other times it meant reassuring them after a difficult blood sugar, celebrating a small victory, or simply sitting beside them while they processed a tough moment. Learning how to adjust my communication to fit each child’s needs is a skill I know will make me a better pediatric dietitian.

One of the most eye-opening experiences wasn’t just watching the campers grow, it was watching many of the counselors who don’t live with diabetes begin to understand what life with T1D really looks like. They witnessed blood sugars that stayed perfectly in range all morning suddenly spike after an exciting activity, or unexpectedly drop after swimming despite doing everything “right.” They quickly learned there isn’t always a simple explanation. Diabetes doesn’t follow a script. Sometimes you count every carbohydrate, dose insulin perfectly, and still end up chasing highs or treating lows.

At the same time, I watched our counseling team grow together throughout the week. Every me member brought a unique perspective and skill set, whether they were experienced healthcare professionals, students, individuals living with T1D, or volunteers learning about diabetes for the first time. We relied on one another during blood sugar checks, insulting administration, overnight rounds, homesick campers, and countless teachable moments. Seeing everyone recognize each other’s strengths while working toward the shared goal of creating a safe, supportive, and memorable experience for our campers reinforced just how valuable teamwork is in providing quality care (CRDN 5.6)

Sleep-deprived? Absolutely! Worth it? Every single second. Grateful to share this moment with those who have made this entire experience worth it. 💙

If there is one skill I hope to continue developing, it is the art of positive redirection. With younger campers, emotions could change in an instant, especially when homesickness, exhaustion, or fluctuating blood sugars entered the picture. I learned that redirecting attention toward something encouraging or fun often worked far better than trying to immediately fix the problem. Developing that patience, creativity, and adaptability is something I know will continue to serve me well as I care for pediatric patients throughout my career.

Although sleep was certainly in short supply this week, the experience was worth every late night. Twenty-three years after my own diagnosis, I finally experienced Camp Hendon, not as a camper, but as a counselor. Watching children discover confidence, independence, and a community that truly understands them reminded me exactly why I chose this profession. Camp reinforced that being a dietitian is about so much more than nutrition recommendations. It’s about meeting people where they are, building trust, offering encouragement, and reminding them that they never have to navigate their journey alone.

“One step closer, one lesson learned, and always in progress.”