Let me tell you about camp ASCCA! That stands for Alabama's Special Camp for Children & Adults. The way they got around the embarrassment factor was to have
everyone who wore typical undies pack 11 pair of undies per week. It was understood that for disabled folks, accidents happen. Those who needed diapers, simply packed them, & if you had an unforeseen need, the
nurses (plural, how neat, compared to most camps, that are lucky to have 1 nurse.) had more. You could stay for up to 2 weeks.
The nurses' unspoken rule was, "Everyone must poop at least once a week." After 4 days, they'd have the cafeteria workers give you prune juice, but took care not to mention who had & hadn't pooped. I had the
world's worst public bashful bowel, so, I always needed a suppository.
Anyway, my first year at camp was so cool!:shades: We had walkers & non-walkers, talkers & non-talkers, people from all over the autism spectrum, all sorts of health issues, special diets, at least 1 girl was tube-fed, even burns & amputations,
& it didn't matter! I can't walk without a walker, but I went zip-lining! Inner-tubing while pulled behind a motorboat is awesome! They have fishing, which I like, & swimming, although I prefer splashing, as I'm waaaay too good at sinking like an anchor, & darn near drowning!:lol: I hear they have bocce! They have riflery, skeet shooting, & archery. Who the heck would let
me hold a weapon?! It was also my first time back on a horse sense I aged out of Special Equestrians, again, awesome!
That settles it; I'm going back ASAP, in spite of the
horrible mattresses. I shall bring my memory foam mattress topper, a spare comforter, folded in half, to go under it, and my pillow-top mattress protector! I shall also make darn sure I go during the right time. No more team sports camp! Perhaps I'll even grow a spine & bring diapers! Beats the pants off smelling like pee.
My second year, my, "wicked

of the south," grandma sent me on the wrong week, and it turned out more team sports oriented. I hated it, & cried every night to go home. That year, my bladder leaked a tiny bit, but I was too afraid my grandparents would find out if I had worn, & I'd be looked at like I was bad, to knuckle under and wear. I didn't have to worry about the campers caring one way or the other. There was a sense that everyone would rather get the, "You know I smell it; just tell me where it's coming from," speech, than rat me out. That was the only cool part of my second year.
At week's end, it was so late by the time I got my suppository, I was offered a diaper to sleep in. I had this, "Oh good heavens, they know," :blushie: feeling, without having words for
what they knew, so, I declined. I did poo, in the toilet, thank goodness, but only a tiny bit. Praise Yahweh, I made it home without a bowel blunder.