Chapter Two.
The next morning dawned bright and early, and Dudley could not contain his excitement. Breakfast, in his opinion, was taking too long. He decided, therefore, to whine very loudly, "We're going to be late!"
Vernon smirked. "Dudley, we have plenty of time to get you to the coach at school."
"I do not want to be late!" Dudley screamed. He then started to jump up and down. "If I'm late, you are going to have to drive me there!"
Vernon sighed, giving in to his son. He looked at the clock and then quickly checked the traffic update, looking out for any possible delays. He finished his cup of now cold tea, took a rich tea finger biscuit and grabbed his keys.
"Okay, we have plenty of time to get you to the coach, Dudley. Got your things?"
"In the boot, can we leave now?" snapped Dudley, stomping his foot on the floor.
"Yes, we can go, Duddekkins," Petunia stated calmly and smiled at her son as they headed towards the car.
Twenty minutes later the coach was ready to go. Jake stood by the door of the coach and counted the bags that were being loaded. He soon realized that one bag was missing, and after some enquiries discovered exactly which bag – the bag for Dudley Dursley.
"Are we all set to go, Jake?" asked the coach driver.
"No, there is one left," Jake stated.
"Who would that be?"
"Dudley Dursley. He'll be the one student at the camp who will not be pleased with what the camp really is at first but he'll like it in the end. Oh blimey, here comes the bloody fat slob now! Mention nothing to him about the camp," Jake said. The coach driver nodded and got on the coach to get it started.
Dudley ran up to the coach and spotted Jake standing outside. "Hi Jake, am I on time?" asked Dudley, panting.
"Just in the nick of time, Dudley, we were just about to leave," Jake smirked. Now to reel this fat pig in. "Oh by the way, Dudley, I'll have to search your bag for any contraband."
"Contraband? But this is a camp, not a prison right?" asked Dudley, suspicious, and, truth be told, a little terrified.
"Yes, it is a camp, but they have rules, and one of those is that certain items are not allowed in the camp itself. Sorry, rules are rules," Jake said, as he opened Dudley's brown bag and started to remove his translucent blue game boy advance, some cartridges for the game boy, and about five dozen chocolate bars.
The coach driver looked at Dudley and whispered to Jake, "Watch! In five seconds he's going to complain about not being able to have those with him at the camp."
Jake nodded, trying to hide his smile, as he handed the items over to Petunia. "Sorry, these cannot be on the camp grounds."
"But those can't contraband items!" Dudley yelled, feeling thoroughly in need of the chocolate bars already.
"I'm sorry, but they are. You are not allowed to bring sweets, game boys and other games or mobile phones, just like the Gordon Brown camps. Don't look so scared, there will be sweets there for you to eat," Jake said. "Now, close your bag up and throw it under the coach and get on…if you want to come that is, Dudley."
"I want to come, dad paid for a full two months at the camp," Dudley said.
"Then, say goodbye to your parents and get on board." Jake grinned, getting on the coach.
"Call us when you get there, Dudley!" Petunia cried, already tearful. She'd miss her little boy.
"Sorry, there will be no phone calls coming in or out. Not till the end of the two months," Jake replied.
"Will there be visitations for the parents to see how their children are doing?" asked Petunia, horrified. "It said we can have visits."
"Sorry, the leaflet has been changed from last year's. Due to parents being insufferable gits towards the staff at the camp, they are no longer holding the weekend visits," Jake said.
"But why weren't those parents banned and not the rest? That sounds very cruel to parents," Vernon admonished, feeling a bit insulted. He was certainly no git!
"That was a good idea, but it was voted upon to bar all parents from coming at all," Jake stated. "They were causing too much havoc at the camp." Jake looked at his watch. "We will be late if we do not leave now." He didn't see the looks of regret on the faces of Vernon and Petunia Dursley.
Jake boarded the coach with a fluid hop. "Anyone who wants to get off this coach and stay home, best do so now, for once the coach doors' close, you will be going to camp for two months or as long as your parents had paid for! Anyone wants to leave, stand up now!"
Not one person on the coach stood up. Jake smirked. Poor kids, the camp would help them after all.
"Good. Driver, you can now close the door and head for the camp."
Everyone on the coach was nervous, and they became even more homesick each mile they drove away from the comforts of home and towards the camp. Some wondered what the camp was like, since the sports sounded great on the leaflet, and this was one of the many topics of conversation that made the coach ride that much more bearable. It was good thing too, because Dudley found that one of the boys, Jonathan, was really unbearable. He seemed the kind of person that'd kick you just for fun.
They arrived at the camp late that night; mainly due to the fact that most of the kids needed to use the bathroom; so the bus stopped at nearly every single gas station to let them pee. The campers got off the bus was awed by what they saw; there was three basketball courts, three tennis courts, five football fields with the nets ready to be accepting the football into them. There was an Olympic sized swimming pool for them to swim in as well as a big lake for them to boat upon. The camp counselor, a tall, muscular, heavily mustached man, informed them of the rules of the camp and told them to all head off to bed as they would be awakened at five am. Dudley went quickly, wondering why on earth anyone would get up that early, and why exactly that man scared him so much. Maybe it was because his height reminded him of that horrid freak who had given him a pig's tail.
Dudley watched as the other boys in his cabin all checked their blood sugar levels and he didn't. He wondered why would they need to check their blood sugar, they all looked healthy to him. But he didn't ask as he climbed into his bed and fell asleep.
Early the next morning, at exactly five to be precise, the trumpets bleared loudly, awakening all of the happy campers. They all got dressed sleepily; they knew that anyone who was late wouldn't get any breakfast. There would be a demerit for their cabin too, and if they got too many of those they lose privileges.
Dudley wanted to sleep in. He'd never had to awaken this early, ever. The counselor, though, had other ideas. He yanked hard and flipped the mattress over, and Dudley spilled all over the floor. "What are you doing still sleeping? You heard the trumpet blow, get up and dressed in five minutes or your cabin will be without breakfast!"
Jonathan kicked violently Dudley in the butt, sending hot pain up his spine. "Come on, Dursley! Get your fat arse up! If you don't get up and dressed in five minutes, we all lose breakfast, you deaf sod!"
Dudley finally registered the last part of the sentence, and sat straight up in a flash. He loved breakfast; they couldn't take that away from him! He quickly squeezed into yesterday's clothes and headed outside.
What he saw made his jaw drop. All he could see were long straight lines of children, standing to attention. What were these things? Robots? As he stood there, watching, more kids ran out and joined the lines.
"What are you staring at, you bloody fat arse? Get your fat arse in line and get ready to jog!" The staff member yelled. He glared at Dudley as he stomped off to the end of the line. "Ready, you sorry pieces of lard arses? Now jog!"
They jogged and jogged till the sun rose which seemed to take forever. Dudley trailed the whole group; his weight was hindering his running ability. He was yelled at and abused to keep moving and couldn't help but growl about the torture as he continued to jog. He was sure they had run for hours! The sun was just rising in the east.
"Remember the rules of the cafeteria; one item from each food group, if you grabbed more than one item, your tray will be removed from your hands and you will be told to restart your tray over again. Now you may go inside and get your tray of breakfast." The staff member stated, as he pointed towards the cafeteria. Everyone hurried towards the room among sighs of relief.
Dudley was panting hard as he hurriedly got in line. He went through the line and got three of everything. When he got to the end of the line that was when he was frowned upon as his tray was removed from his hand.
"What is your name?"
"Dudley Dursley,"
"You are only allowed one item from each food group, not three of everything. Now, return to the end of the line and start over again."
Dudley fumed about how much food he was allowed for breakfast as he walked back to the end of the line. Great, it was now longer! This was nowhere near his normal amount of food. He grumbled about it to the kid in front of him.
"So? You did see the sign on the cafeteria wall out front didn't you?" the kid asked. "And heard what the counselor said about one item?"
"What sign?" Dudley asked, stupidly. "What statement?"
"The sign that says one item from each food group any more then one from each, will make you lose your tray and you told to return to the end of the line and start over again." The kid said, as he looked away from Dudley.
Finally, Dudley got to the food counter only to find that there was no more food there. He walked all the way to the end of the food line to find that all was left was a single apple. He hated apples.
Dudley looked at the apple as the staff member walked up to him.
"Where's all the food that was up here?" he asked, refusing to believe his father had paid someplace that would starve him.
The staff member picked up the apple and looked at Dudley. "You snooze on the rules, you lose. Now get to your table and eat. Oh, right, all you got is orange juice to drink."
Dudley headed for his cabin's table and sat down, picking up the pitcher of orange juice and pouring it into a glass.
"Thanks, lard arse!" snapped a staff member, as he picked up Dudley's glass of orange juice. He drank it between snorts of laughter as he walked away.
The camp counselor stood up and looked at everyone in the room. "Good morning, campers."
The room was silent.
"I said, good morning campers,"
"Good morning, camp counselor," yelled the campers.
"As you may have figured out, The Path of the Peak camp is a Diabetic camp. Every single camper in this camp, including some of the camp staff is diabetic and for those who have just been diagnosed we will help you lose weight by the time you leave camp. Depends on how long they stay here, the chances of losing weight will be good."
A few campers were shocked to hear that the camp that they're in was a diabetic camp, some lowered their heads as they had been in denial about their medical condition.
"When you leave this room, each of you will be having a physical done by our camp nurse and then you will see our camp dietitian who will prescribe to you an exercise regiment. For those who do not know this, our camp nurse will be drawing blood to test for any problems that would come from being overweight as in high blood pressure and to see how your blood sugar levels are." the counselor said. "And if you do have one of the problems mentioned, do not worry for we will help you get better but it is up to you to get better. Now, line up head for the nurse's office."
After breakfast the boys moved in tandem to the nurse's office. Her name was Jenny. She tested everyone, gave everyone their physicals and also made them pee for a urine specimen as well as blood work. Afterwards they saw the dietician and were put on a caloric meal plan and an exercise regiment for them to follow daily.
In the end, everyone had gone through the grueling process and were all now standing in front of the nurse's office. Jenny and the camp counselor were talking and soon, Jenny asked for the following campers to step forward. Ten campers, including Dudley, were called forth.
The ten nervous boys who were called back to the infirmary were told their results were positive for some test. They, apparently, needed to be retested so the camp could be sure that the results were correct the first time around.
"The test that we did on you ten was for diabetes."
"I'm not diabetic," snapped Dudley.
"We needed to make sure that you are not, Mr. Dursley, these tests that we do will make sure that you are able to handle the exercise program we will have for you. That is why we need to retest your blood and your urine sample. Now just follow the counselor to the screening room to give your urine sample after that is done, I'll draw blood from your arm again."
Dudley fumed as he lined up with the rest of the boys but he obeyed what he was told to do and as he waited in the room. "When I figure a way to get word to my parents, they will yank me out of this camp immediately."
The counselor walked over to him after the nurse told him Dudley was positive for diabetes. "Don't bet on it, Mr. Dursley, you are a diabetic. You will be placed on a diet, along with an exercise plan and you will be taught how to monitor your blood sugar levels. Once, your weight goes down, you might not need to have any shots of insulin but for now you will be requiring it. Your GP has already been informed of your condition."
"What about my folks?" Dudley asked.
"We will notify them to get themselves checked for diabetes." The counselor stated. "You may rejoin your cabin now."
They left the nurse's office all shocked about what they had learned. Dudley was given tons of leaflets on diabetes, and wasted no time in reading them; after all, he had this thing, so he might as well figure out what it was about. After reading them, however, he still had more questions then answers. He got up out of his bunk and headed for the door.
"Dudley, where are you heading off to?" asked one of the kids.
"To see the nurse, I need to have some questions answered," Dudley replied, and promptly left for the nurse's office. He was about to knock when he heard the unmistakable voice of his mother in the room. He peeked in to see that his mother was not there. 'Speaker phones.' He knew his mother was not very happy sounding.
"What do you mean my son is diabetic?" screeched Mrs. Dursley.
"The tests prove that he is a diabetic. There are key tones and his urine all stated the same thing - he is a diabetic. If you want to kill your son, then go right ahead and remove him from this camp, but I will not be held accountable for his death."
"Send the results of the tests to my GP! He'll either prove or disprove your claim that he is diabetic!" Mrs. Dursley roared.
"I have already talked with your GP and he said to keep him here to and monitor his diabetes and help him lose the weight. And he proved that he is diabetic."
There was a strained silence on the other end of the phone. Then, they heard Mrs. Dursley's voice sounding very resigned to the fact that her son is diabetic. "What do we do when he returns?" Was that a sob?
"He will not be able to eat any sweets again, unless he knows his blood sugar is low. Most of the time, you can get your sugar levels righted by drinking orange juice or having couple of M&M's. But he will require a constant diet which we will put him on and will send you a list of allowed food on the diet. You and your husband might want to work on the diet plan while he's here, you might like the meals that Dudley will be eating from now on. Be thankful that your son lives, my son didn't."
"Your son had diabetes?"
"Yes, type one. I controlled it by diet and exercise until one night he slipped into a coma and died during the night. He didn't check his sugar levels and died during the night." Jenny said, trying to hold back a sob. "Your son weighs over 20 stone and if his weight is not lowered soon, he could die." That sounded serious.
"Fax over his diet plan, we will work on removing all the things that is bad for him and healthy for him and get food into the house that is healthy for him." Vernon said quickly. He would never want his son to die.
"What do I with all the food in the house?" wailed Mrs. Dursley in the background.
"Mr. Dursley, are you overweight?" asked Jenny. She knew if his son was overweight, the father might be as well.
"Yes as is my sister Marge," Vernon stated. He was worried that maybe both of them were diabetic like his son is.
"I would ask you to go to your GP tomorrow morning and get your blood tested for diabetes. Tell the nurse you require the diabetes test. You might wish to inform your sister Marge to get herself tested for Diabetes. It would be in her best interest if she is informed about it and get tested. Is your wife overweight too?"
"No, she's thin, why?"
"Because, she might have diabetes, there is a slight chance but slim. She should get tested as well,"
"I'll make sure she's tested as well. Should nephews or nieces be tested as well?"
"How closely related are you to the nephew and nieces?"
"He's my wife's sister's son."
"Is he thin or overweight?"
"He's thin," Vernon stated.
"Then, he is in the clear," Jenny replied. "Also Mrs. Dursley, I'll be sending you a one year subscription to Diabetes Now UK magazine which has some great recipes for those who have diabetes. You might want to check out the information in the articles about Diabetes as well. There are support groups for those who have diabetes and those family members," Jenny added.
Mr. Dursley said. "Thank you Jenny, for helping Dudley with his problem. My wife and I are sorry for your loss,"
"Thank you; it was over five years ago, he would have been twenty years old in three days from now." Jenny said quietly, ending the call with the Dursleys'. She turned towards the camp counselor and smiled. "That was easy. I was afraid Mrs. Dursley would blow up at me about this but neither of them did. It sounds like that Mrs. Dursley has accepted the fact that her son has diabetes but the real test will come when he returns to them and if he remains on the diet that he must be on and the exercise plan."
The group counselor said, "I thought so too. His son didn't like that he has diabetes, Jenny. He will not like what he has to do to keep his sugar under control."
Dudley took this chance to open the door. "Ms. Jenny, may I talk to you about my Diabetes?"
Jenny smiled and waved to a seat. "Sure, please come in and sit down Dudley."
Dudley asked. "What type diabetes do I have?"
Jenny replied readily, quite amazed that he was asking questions. From what she could see he was scared. "You have Type 1 Diabetes and you will have it for the rest of your life. You will have to test your blood sugar and take shots; if you get it really under control you might get lucky enough to go on the insulin pump but you have to have good control on your blood sugar and your shots first."
Dudley said, "I want to try hard and get my sugar under control and lose the weight."
Jenny smiled. "It will take time Dudley. You didn't gain the weight overnight so it will take time for you to lose it."
Dudley nodded. "Did you have a son and what happened to him?"
Jenny nodded, before she removed a picture of her son on the wall and showed it to Dudley. There in the picture was a before and after picture of a young fifteen year old who was somewhat overweight-looking and then a twenty year old young man who was thin and very healthy looking. "He was a Type one Diabetic and he had very good control of his blood sugars. He died in his sleep and never woke up. That was five years go."
"I'm sorry."
Jenny shook her head. "That's why I help people like you; complications from diabetes can rob you of your eyesight, lose a leg or even die from uncontrolled diabetes. By helping overweight kids at this weight loss camp, live and accept their new life as a diabetic with learning how to keep your blood sugar at a good level and you can live a normal productive life."
"Can it be cured?" asked Dudley.
"No but it can be controlled by diet exercise and medication. You will have to use a meter to check your blood sugar a lot until you have it under control and adjust your insulin accordingly, and keep a log of your sugars so the people that deal with you will have to know how to help you when and if your sugar levels go too low. Test your blood sugars daily, before, during and after meals and before you go to bed and sometimes even during the night. What I'm surprised is how your school let you and others slip though the cracks?"
"Well actually they did test me for Diabetes," Dudley stated. "I was diagnosed early this year, but I hid it from my folks, and made sure that the post never showed any notices from my school to my folks."
"Then you should have followed it but they should have done a better job and followed through by telling your GP. Did they tell your GP they suggested a diet meal plan?"
"No, I do not believe they did speak with my GP," Dudley stated. "Mum didn't want me following it. She let me eat what ever I wanted."
Jenny shook her head. "How sad! Now you're paying for it forever with your life; your mother was in denial, and wouldn't accept it until now."
"Even when I was a little kid, if I wanted something I got it before I threw a temper tantrum." Dudley stated. "What I wanted, I got. Now, I got something that I didn't ask for and I don't want it."
Jenny said, "Dudley, after you leave here after losing the weight I would like to keep in contact with you if it's ok with your folks I would like to know how you're doing with your blood sugars,"
"Will do," Dudley exclaimed happily, glad to have made a new friend.
Jenny sighed as she touched his hand. "I know you didn't want it Dudley, my son had said the same thing when he was first diagnosed at the age you are now and now he's gone. We had our ups and downs but he took it bravely and talked to kids and went to a Diabetes support group and talked about how he felt. He even went to a Diabetes camp to be with others who has Diabetes."
They both talked more about the equipment that Dudley would have to deal with on a daily basis. Jenny showed him how to prick his finger and draw the amount of blood he needed to test with, and then showed him how to log what his sugar count was. She showed him how to measure and give himself his insulin shots, Jenny had him practice on a grapefruit with sugar water and inject it into the grapefruit to practice giving the shots until he was comfortable with it. It was about 10pm before he headed off to bed, fully aware of what he had and he was calm about it.
TBC . . .