type 1; many kids are the only one in their
school who has it. “It was strange being
the only person in the nurse’s office
during lunch, getting injections,” recalls
Liam Scott, of East Greenwich, who was
diagnosed when he was 7. “I always tried
to hide my glucometer under the desk
when I was testing.”
But the following summer he started
coming to Camp Surefire. “Just to see
everyone had their glucometers out on
the table, and everyone was doing
injections—it was a really good sense of
community when I was in such need for
that,” he says.
“When they’re here, everybody is the
same,” Fox says. “From the very minute
they show up, they feel like they’re part of
something.” Most of the counselors and
other leaders, like Brewer, have type 1 and
were longtime campers themselves. “The
counselors model good diabetes manage-
ment,” Fox says. They normalize the
blood testing and carb counting, and
celebrate when children give themselves
an insulin injection for the very first time.
“We make a big deal out of that, actually,”
he says.
Liam, now 16, is a leader-in-training—
the first step to becoming a counselor—
and a role model like the ones he had when
he was a newbie. “I just feel responsible to
give back what I was given,” he says.
Counselor Jessie Nouman helps
campers determine their carb
counts at dinner in the main lodge.
PEACE OF MIND
FOX , W HOSE FATHER H A S T Y PE 1,
began volunteering at the camp when he
was a pediatric endocrinology fellow at
Hasbro Children’s Hospital. He was the
only doctor on staff, so after that first
summer “they made me medical director
for life,” he laughs. “I walked out of that
very first camp, like, this is something
that I absolutely love.”
His enthusiasm was infectious; soon
the whole family was coming too. His
wife, Ali, has been executive director
since they formed the Camp Surefire
Foundation, a nonprofit 501(c)(3), in
2007; their kids, Joe, 18, and Anna, 16,
now have leadership roles. “It’s such an
incredible part of our lives,” Greg Fox
says. “We treat this as a family.”
Each year the camp adds more
programming and diabetes education.
What began as a weekend for about 20
campers grew to a full week, plus smaller
events throughout the year. “It’s really
evolving every year,” Ali Fox says. They
recruit friends and other volunteers to
play music, lead Zumba and yoga classes,
teach cartooning and karate, “in addition
to the regular arts and crafts and
swimming and capture the flag and all
those good things,” she says.
Camp Surefire is often the first—and
only—sleepaway camp that its campers,
ages 6 to 17, have attended. Type 1
diabetes requires 24/7 vigilance,
something few parents will entrust to
anyone else. Belle Channell, a camp
counselor and senior at URI, says of her
first summer at the camp, at age 9, “My
mom was nervous. … She wanted to work
in the kitchen to keep an eye on me.”
Liam Scott’s mom, Susan Ramsey,
PhD, was equally concerned when his
doctor recommended Camp Surefire. “I
didn’t send my daughter, without a
medical condition, away,” Ramsey says. “I
thought, wow, I’m just trying to figure out
how to keep this kid alive.”
Even her husband, Stephen Scott, MD,
an internist and a clinical assistant
professor of medicine at the Warren
Alpert Medical School, says he felt
unprepared. In medical school, “you
learn the nuts and bolts,” he says, “but the
day-to-day minutiae, I had no clue.” He
gets up every night, he says, “mostly
HEALTH DISCOVERIES l WINTER 2020 13