Prison-camp...?

When I was young I was sent to summer camp with other handicapped kids. I of course hated the entire idea even though I was only there twice. It was a strange experience to say the least and I’ll never forget those weeks at the resort by the lake. It isn’t far from where I live, maybe a 30 minute drive or so, but to me that was too far away! I felt betrayed by my parents who would send me to this dreadful institution of fun and campfires. Yes, I went that far. In reality it wasn’t that terrible, but it was my first time away from my parents. I trusted nobody. It was like some twisted handicapped version of “Prison Break” to me. I was dropped off, hugged my mother and then I started thinking of ways I could escape!

The first time I must have been around twelve years old and I was scared. They had never had a child there who cried as much as I did. Severe case of missing home. I remember I kept a diary, a notebook my mother sent with me. Time is going to fly she would say, two weeks and we’d all be together again. I didn’t understand it back then, but my parents needed a vacation too sometimes and my sister wanted to go to Mallorca almost every year. I didn’t like the idea of flying. So, camp it was for me. Looking at those old notes now always brings a smile to my face.

As I said before, I compared the camp to a prison, and in prison what do you do? You count the days. So, in the notebook there is a page dedicated to this purpose. Every day I would add a line and cheer myself up a bit. One day closer to freedom. Things went better after a while, but the first five days of that diary is horribly sad. I might have exaggerated a bit here and there but I was real homesick. I even made the people taking care of us call my parents, who were at Mallorca probably, not like they could pick me up anyhow. I got to talk to them on the phone though. I whined and cried a bit, but in the end that call was just what I needed. The second week went quite well, my diary looked less depressing and before I knew it I was back home.

The second time I was there I was 14, now this trip was real interesting. Once again, I protested. I didn’t want to go back there again. I even considered acting so terrible they’d kick me out. That plan was never put in motion however. This time I wasn’t scared, I was annoyed and ready to fight! This time I was prepared, too old to cry now. I was a teenager after all, and this brought many awkward moments to say the least. It was like high school, but all the students were handicapped. There were clicks, bullies, cool kids, geeks and loners, we had it all. We all got a roommate and a volunteer assistant the first day we got to camp. My roommate was… Well, he was a teenage boy with only one thing on his mind.

He also had duchennes, but back then we were stronger, we couldn’t walk but the rest worked just fine. So, every night our assistants would put us to bed, say goodnight, turn off the lights and leave the room. This was when my roommate would ask if I was asleep. Being the fool I was I said no. Why did I even answer? The following thirty minutes I had to listen to him go on in detail about girls and how much sex he was going to have once he got home. Yeah, sure, you’re 14 and handicapped, good luck there! It was all pretty awkward and I often found myself wondering if I should hit the alarm button next to the bed and call in assistance. Just to shut that horny teenager in the other bed up. Then after talking about pleasing himself he finally fell asleep. The next day he acted as if nothing had happened, or he was too embarrassed, as he should be!

We also had a set of wheelchair twins, two large, heavy, red-haired guys with a bad temper. These were the bullies and I always ran into them in the hallway. Correction, they ran into me. Did I say ran? Silly me, I mean rammed into me. They would come up next to me, one at each side of my wheelchair and try to squeeze me out. It was like a typical car chase scene. I usually got away as I was smarter and a bit faster than those broilers. One of them even spat me in the back of my head once! This just wouldn’t do, I needed allies.

My allies came in the form of a few boys I befriended, we came from different parts of Norway and we all had different handicaps. We were like the X-men! No, not really, we were the nerds and they were the bullies. At least we were more than them! Me and my new pals would stick together and avoid our enemies as best as we could, even though they singled me out once and chased me into the parking lot. I have no idea what was wrong with those twins, maybe this was their way to deal with their disabilities?  Either way, things went better after a while, we even had a party where I was a barkeeper, mixing Cola and Fanta and adding color to it mostly. We were still only 14 after all.

The biggest issue I had with the camp was the trips to an amusement park, Tusenfryd outside Oslo. A big handicap friendly bus would pick us all up and drive us to the park. That was embarrassing, parading in there like some kind of freak show. The other people would stare and because some of the campers had mental handicaps people often assumed we were all that way. They always talked in big, easy words. “HELLO! DO YOU LIKE THE PARK?” Yeah, I’m not deaf or mentally challenged, thank you very much. Strange how people react.

All in all, these two trips will forever stay with me, for better and for worse. You might wonder, if I was offered a stay there again, would I take it? The answer is still no. Yes, it wasn’t as bad as I first thought, but I don’t like being sent to places to be with “my kind”. I like being myself without being associated with a certain group. I’m a person, and that’s that.