ping pong table: A camp of caring

By Tina Firesheets
Staff Writer

MORE ONLINEFor information about sickle cell disease or the Sickle Cell Disease Association of the Piedmont, call 274-1507 or click here.STOKESDALE — Tiana — the more outgoing twin who likes to ride horses — doesn't get as homesick as her more reserved sister, Kiana.

But before the end of the week, the 8-year-old twins will call home at least once.

Activities at their summer camp aren't that different from others. Campers swim, ride horses and do arts and crafts.

But although they are able-bodied and appear healthy, many of these kids check into camp with pillows, teddy bears — and a Ziploc bag filled with all of their medications.

The registration process includes a visit with a nurse, who checks their pulse, temperature and blood pressure.

Like the rest of their fellow campers, Kiana and Tiana Harrell were born with sickle cell disease, a group of inherited red blood cell disorders.

Some people with the disease are relatively healthy, while others are hospitalized frequently. It causes symptoms ranging from pain to organ damage to anemia.

About one in every 400 African Americans have sickle cell disease.

And nearly one in 12 African Americans carry the sickle cell trait.

So, like Kiana and Tiana's parents, Tasha and Alton Harrell, this means they don't exhibit any signs of the disorder themselves, but they can pass the gene down to their children.

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For the tiny Harrell twins, sickle cell manifests itself mostly through intense pain.

Tasha Harrell describes it this way: "Their blood cell changes shape and causes pain in their arms and legs."

That pain can last anywhere from three days to a week. Sometimes it's controlled by doses of Tylenol with codeine every four hours.

But if that pain is accompanied by a fever, they must go to the hospital.

About a year ago, that happened to Kiana.

It's hard for parents to see their child in such pain.

"You wish you could take the pain yourself ... and if I could, I would," Tasha Harrell said.

Her daughters tend to take turns fighting the symptoms of sickle cell. Usually, the first one is stricken with a pain crisis and by the time she has recovered, the other goes through it.

* * *

Kiana and Tiana are beginning to distinguish themselves from each other at the camp.

They have their own sets of friends and seek separate groups in social settings.

But when apart, they frequently scan the room for each other. Once one has spotted the other, their attention goes back to the activity before them.

Their father, Alton Harrell, said they always look after each other. If one gets a pain episode, the other immediately gets medication for her. Or covers her with a blanket. Or gets water.

"It's not just one of them hurting," he said.

His daughters look forward to camp, where they go on field trips and meet others who struggle with sickle cell, too.

For Alton and Tasha Harrell, it eases their minds to know their girls are at a camp where those who run it are knowledgeable about the disease.

There are nurses and a doctor present all week. If anything goes wrong, the staff knows what to do.

Camp director Monica Summers doesn't have sickle cell disease, but her 3-year-old son does.

So do most of her counselors.

For junior counselor Jasmyne Jackson, 17, sickle cell camp meant that she didn't have to explain to others why she takes so many medications or why she is sensitive to temperature changes.

Almost everyone at sickle cell camp takes medication. Breakfast is followed by a trip to the med shed, a wooden cabin near the dining and recreation halls.

Summers said sickle cell camp is a chance for kids to forget about all those days of not feeling well.

"It's their time to just be kids and have fun."

* * *

For Tasha Harrell, the separation that camp brings was easier than it was three years ago, when Kiana and Tiana were new campers.

"I cried," she said, while watching her daughters make new friends.

The girls hovered around the ping-pong table with a few other campers and occasionally flashed big, dimpled grins at their parents.

Some of the kids shot pool or challenged each other to foosball.

Others, such as 12-year-old LaTonya Hoffman, just sat quietly, sizing each other up.

But by the end of the week, many of them would exchange phone numbers and e-mail addresses.

Sickle cell campers bond quickly, Summers said.

That's because — for the first time — many of them are meeting other kids just like them.

"They can share their stories and talk about what works for them and how sickle cell affects them," she said.

And like Kiana and Tiana, they learn that others share their pain.

Contact Tina Firesheets at 373-3498 or tfiresheets@news-record.com