Two out of the four panelists said without a doubt. They were tired of diabetes and while thankful to have had the experience were ready to move on. One said she would take it but with hesitation -- what would she think about all the time, and what would her life be like without the condition? How could she sit down with a plate a food and not automatically count carbs and think about what it would do to her blood sugars? The last, a 26 year-old from Colorado, said he would not take the cure. Diabetes had shaped who he was. It had brought such "positivity" to his life, and had resulted in amazing experiences. He was the last to speak, stating that he was "in a great place", and it was because of diabetes.

Parents responded to all of the panelists with hugs, applause, and endless gratitude for so openly sharing. They would be treating their children different as a result, and for that they were thankful. I gave each of the panelists a huge hug, as always, and thanked them for taking a risk by sharing such personal information. I am always amazed at how much they are willing to share, and the positive messages that parents take away from the experiences of these panelists.

The dining hall during evening snack was loud. The air lifted, families laughed, hugged their children a little tighter, and off the bed they went. After tucking their little ones in, parents returned to the dining hall to our twice weekly Coffee Talk, to engage in more conversations. Staff with diabetes sat around the parents in an informal style throughout the dining hall while we served a chocolate torte and coffee, and the questions from the parents flowed. I heard topics ranging from drinking and diabetes, to college and diabetes, to eating habits and insulin adjustments.

It was during coffee talk that the whole camp seemed to take a deep breath. It is "the shift" and can be felt physically when it happens. The shift is inevitable. Sometimes it starts after the first full day, sometimes it takes a couple of days, but the shift always happens. Tonight was the night of "the shift".

We started from being a camp with guarded cautiousness, to, as of tonight, one of open sharing. People are starting to relax. Parents are starting to have fun. They are letting their kids wander a little more. They are asking counselors more meaningful and sometimes difficult questions to answer. They are learning that it is OK to be scared, that they are not alone, that it is OK to cry, to not have all the answers, to not be perfect, and perhaps most importantly that it is OK to laugh, even at diabetes.