Maya Ramirez
This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Maya Ramirez. It has been edited for length and clarity.
I was born with a condition called congenital hyperinsulinism, which essentially means your pancreas releases insulin to an excessive level. The condition led to the removal of my pancreas at eight months old, resulting in me developing pancreatogenic, or type 3c, diabetes, which is a type of diabetes that happens after your pancreas is compromised or removed.
My oldest brother has type 2 diabetes now, but growing up, I didn't have any friends or family with the condition. I didn't have a community and wanted to know other kids who could relate to what I was going through. Things changed for the better at 10 years old when I received my first insulin pump.
The medical device made me feel confident enough to go to sleep-away diabetes camp because it allowed me to better manage my diabetes without my parents' help. Diabetes camp is just like a traditional summer camp for children, but with a medical staff and camp attendees who are living with diabetes — often type 1.
I met several kids my age who were also living with diabetes and built friendships. From that point on, I went to diabetes camp every summer, and sometimes, if my parents would allow it, I would attend multiple camps each summer. One July, I hopped off one bus, went home to do laundry, and then hopped on another bus to attend another camp.
Eventually, I went from camp attendee to counselor. When I was around 16, I became a camp counselor in training, and then at 18, I became a counselor. I took two years off from working at diabetes camps in college, but now I'm working in an administrative role for a nonprofit based in California that supports families impacted by type 1 diabetes with community-building events and camps.
Even though I'd been to many camps growing up, I attended an adult diabetes camp for the first time at the age of 30 in August 2023 through the nonprofit I work for. When we arrived, they gave us a schedule of activities to choose from. There were educational sessions led by medical staff, nurses, and even therapists.
One of the educational sessions focused on navigating pregnancy with diabetes. We learned about blood sugar management when pregnant, what type of doctor visits we should have, and where to find a support group. I'm at the stage where I may have kids soon, so the session was very informative.
People of all ages were in attendance. You have to be at least 18, but I saw a woman in her 70s when I went. The camp is way up in the mountains in California, and there's no cell service. But we had all the activities you think of when you think of camp — pool time, archery, arts and crafts, and hiking. One night, we had a traditional campfire with skits, songs, and s'mores, which was one of my highlights.
We all slept on giant outside decks. Each deck had a cot with a mattress, and we could sleep under the stars. August in California is typically super hot, so we were pretty toasty. There's something so peaceful and tranquil about sleeping under the stars with the sound of nature in the background. Even though we were in the woods, we had fully functioning restrooms and showers.
A lot of people living with diabetes sometimes feel restricted in what they can eat because some doctors and society, in general, have created a bad stigma about the relationship between diabetics and food. The message is, "Oh, you can't eat this because you have diabetes." At camp, it was instilled in us that we can still eat what we enjoy. We just have to figure out the carb count and administer a proper amount of insulin based on what our body needs. Luckily, the kitchen staff at the camp had a full carb breakdown on all the foods and measurements, so we didn't have to guess.
I lost my mom back in 2018, and when I think about my diabetes journey, I think about my mom. From day one, my mom pushed me to be independent and said, "Hey, it's just something you'll live with. You're not different; you're not weird." She didn't want diabetes to stop me from doing anything I wanted. When she died, I felt lost in life. She was my person.
During one of our adult camp discussion sessions facilitated by a therapist, I opened up about how her death impacted me and the worries I had about navigating diabetes without the person I had talked to most about the condition for my entire life.
The camp discussion finally allowed me to let out all of the feelings I had been navigating for years after losing my mom but hadn't processed out loud. Because of camp, I was able to process my grief around people who not only understood navigating a serious medical condition, but some also understood navigating a serious medical condition while simultaneously grieving a parent.
