Camp Nurse
Last week and next I am acting as camp “nurse” at my local summer camp. I went to the same camp as a kid, and was even a counselor once. I walked in on Monday for day camp last week and proclaimed, “Ah, smells like camp!” It’s not a bad smell, just a mix of sun tan lotion, bug spray, campfire smoke, and camp food. A few more memories came back to me of my time at camp, but mostly it’s all pretty vague, a different era of my life where I’m pretty sure I was an idiot.
We have to keep track of the campers’ prescription meds, dole them out, and make sure nobody dies. I have been official band-aid giver-outer which is a pretty sweet job. One girl came to me after falling off of a swing. She was giggling like a mad person and had a tiny cut on her knee. Once she calmed herself she was able to give me the hilarious (to an eight year old) story, as I cleaned off the dirt and gave her a band-aid.
“I need one there too!” she proclaimed, pointing to a blank spot of skin.
“Where?” I asked, leaning far over her knee, my nose practically touching to illustrate my skepticism.
“There,” she pointed again to the blank spot.
“Oh, that thing?” I said squinting hard at the nothing on her leg.
She giggled uncontrollably again as I bandaged her non existent cut.
Later in the week, one of the female counselors sidled up to me and loudly asked, “Do you have any girlie stuff?”
If you mean nail polish, a blow drier, and a copy of Seventeen magazine, the answer is no, but if you mean (big air quotes) “girlie stuff,” then yes, we have some of that.
Next week is the overnight camp, but sadly I am only able to stay one night due to ‘real’ work. It should be more interesting though, as I know that we will have at least two campers with anaphylactic peanut allergies, woot!
We have to keep track of the campers’ prescription meds, dole them out, and make sure nobody dies. I have been official band-aid giver-outer which is a pretty sweet job. One girl came to me after falling off of a swing. She was giggling like a mad person and had a tiny cut on her knee. Once she calmed herself she was able to give me the hilarious (to an eight year old) story, as I cleaned off the dirt and gave her a band-aid.
“I need one there too!” she proclaimed, pointing to a blank spot of skin.
“Where?” I asked, leaning far over her knee, my nose practically touching to illustrate my skepticism.
“There,” she pointed again to the blank spot.
“Oh, that thing?” I said squinting hard at the nothing on her leg.
She giggled uncontrollably again as I bandaged her non existent cut.
Later in the week, one of the female counselors sidled up to me and loudly asked, “Do you have any girlie stuff?”
If you mean nail polish, a blow drier, and a copy of Seventeen magazine, the answer is no, but if you mean (big air quotes) “girlie stuff,” then yes, we have some of that.
Next week is the overnight camp, but sadly I am only able to stay one night due to ‘real’ work. It should be more interesting though, as I know that we will have at least two campers with anaphylactic peanut allergies, woot!
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