Love & Insulin

As I've mentioned before, I married a man I met while working at summer camp. So, you know how this ends. But feel free to reminisce with me.

In the summer of 1991, I returned to Clara Barton Camp as year-round camp director. The next summer, over at Camp Joslin, John Palmer returned for a stint as CIT Director. John had been a camper and staff member throughout his school years, and found himself able to return to camp for a summer. I first heard about him at an ADA Youth Services committee meeting earlier in the year, when he was mentioned as a 'stellar' former staff member who they were 'thrilled' to have come back*.

Early in the summer, I was driving a bunch of Joslin campers back to their camp, after a movie night with their Barton counterparts. To ferry them back, I grabbed the keys to the blue van, because I didn't want to embarass myself while driving the red - standard transmission - van. Problem was, the blue van was nearly out of gas. Sure enough, a little more than halfway to Camp Joslin, sputter sputter putt putt... out of gas.

It was John who stopped to check on us, came back to transport the campers, drove me back to his camp to call Barton, drove me back to the van and, when one of my staff showed up with a can of gas (our caretaker couldn't be bothered to come out and help at night), it was John who ruined a pair of shoes trying to pour gas from a can down a crooked spout into the van's gas tank.

At which point, I thought, "Wow. What a nice guy."

The rest of the summer was spent getting to know him a little better, since "Admin" hangs out with "Admin". As time wore on, I (and my peers) would say, "That John Palmer is so nice, who can we set him up with?" He often asked me to dance but he asked tons of people to dance. He loved dances - he even once rented the top half of a tux and wore it with shorts to play along with a joke.

We kept in touch after the summer ended and, one fall evening, I found myself driving out to Springfield to meet him for dinner. The whole way there I was thinking to myself, "Is this a date? I hope he doeesn't think it's a date! What will I do if he tries to kiss me?"

The whole way home, I was pissed that he didn't try to kiss me.

A month later, he picked me up to take me to see James Taylor and, on our way out the door, commented that he should have gotten a ticket for my roommate, too. Talk about confusing. Luckily, he cleared things up at the end of the evening with a sweet goodbye kiss and, the next day, wrote me a letter! He put pen to paper! I won't divulge the details but suffice it to say I was impressed enough to see him again. And again. And the rest, as they say, is history.

I can't recall ever wondering if it would be a good idea to marry someone who also has type 1 diabetes. Optomistic? Well-Adjusted? In denial? Probably all of the above. I checked out our odds of passing diabetes on to children (17% or so, for those keeping score) but in the blush of young love, never considered it an obstacle. It actually has some big advantages. He's much more disciplined than I am about keeping prescriptions filled and juice in the fridge, so when I run out I can always swipe some of his. And I can spot his lows remarkably well - just by the look on his face. I think he's particularly proud of me for winning the Ascensia Dream Fund last year, more so than someone who doesn't have diabetes might be. And I never have to worry that he just doesn't get what it's like to live with diabetes - he's been doing it longer than I've been alive.

He's an inspiration when it comes to diabetes. Thirty-eight years, half of those before the advent of home blood glucose monitoring, and no complications (but yes, I'm knocking wood).

He's golfing in Texas today, and I'm sure he has his meter and skittles and will drink extra juice at the turn.

He left roses for me and Toys R Us cards for the boys before departing for his 7AM flight this morning, so I can forgive him the golf.

John, Happy Valentine's Day from the bottom of my non-functioning pancreas (that's like my heart, only deeper).

XOXO
K




*Words in quotation marks are Paul B. Maddenisms. Please say them with a heavy Boston accent.