Camp Omigosh is a remote camp set in the verdant mountains of New Hampshire (yes, the name of the camp has been changed to protect the not-so-innocent). This is my fourth year as a camp nurse. Tired from a very busy month, I am actually looking forward to an experience I often dread.
Why do I dread it? I dread it because I am a projector. Not in the psychological sense but in the "Omigosh!" creative writing sense.
But this month, having my psychologically challenged brother up from Florida, plus a week of Vacation Bible School to help with, plus being in the middle of completing requirements to start a new job - I was looking forward to rest and the healing balm of nature.
Now let me tell you that I love my brother. I love working with the K-6 kids in our VBS. I adore the fact that I may be working at a "real job" this fall. And the 3 prior years of dreads I've had towards camp always end up unfounded. What seemed like it would be the worst ended up wonderful. A "high" that would last for months and renew me spiritually and emotionally. The memories of the surroundings and my experiences would sustain me for months. I don't know why I would dread it so much.
But let me just say that this year I was overwhelmed by my responsibilities. July was more than full, and even getting to camp - washing clothes, packing, gathering supplies, psyching myself up - seemed impossible. Then, once I got there, I realized that sometimes the dreads come true. What was difficult in the past seemed tame in comparison to what I experienced this summer. If I was a swearing woman then "Omigosh" would take up this whole page.
Kids from 5th grade to "graduated from 12th" would be attending our camp. We'd arrive at noon on Monday and return Saturday afternoon. Well, the experience started prematurely. Instead of the two nurses riding up in a car, one of the nurses (me) rode up in the bus. My friend didn't even tell me she was leaving; she just left. I began to doubt the love that she had expressed to me many times.
Hmm, how to express my disappointment. I was seated smack-dab in the middle of the bus. One adult (besides the driver) was in the front seat, and two other counselors were in the back.The one in the front exchanged anecdotes with the driver.The two in the back blissfully stared out the window with their earphones firmly planted.
This meant that I was responsible to be the bad guy - please don't scream in my ear, please don't throw that, please don't punch, please don't fall out the window - well, you get the idea. And kids never listen to me anyway. I'm shorter than most of them and, like Rodney Dangerfield, I get no respect. I could have used those headphones; ignorance is bliss, hence, i was not very happy.
But this tells you nothing about my nursing experience at camp this year. Oh, I could tell you about the nursing station, where the mice had built their homes in the cabinet and bureau drawers. Where the doors and windows of the cabin had been firmly closed, of course. Ah, thankfully, the smell was pungent, so we were not completely surprised at the surprises in the drawers. We were mid cleanout when our first patient, bleeding profusely (how??), arrived, before we had even unzipped our medical supply bags.
I won't tell you about the head lice, prophylactic ace bandages, crocodile tears, trips to the hospital, trips to the pharmacy, the multiple runs down the hill, followed by multiple runs up the hill, yes, with feet. My coworker's trips were limited because her cane and her cart (that she used as a walker) did not do well on the uneven ground. She felt guilty, and I was hard-pressed to feel resentful toward her. But still ...
Oh, and let's not forget the other runs. you know, diarrhea. and, the inevitable early morning emergency Bandaids. What about the number of items we forgot to bring? What about driving unfamiliar vehicles on unfamiliar roads? One year, all I could do was marvel at the beautiful sky. This year, what sky?
The thing that bothered me the most, though, was not the fact that we were straight-out busy, or that we couldn't relax on the screened-in porch or even attend religious services, as we had in previous years between Bandaids. No, it was the fact that this year it became apparent that my rusty skills were getting even rustier.
Other years, I would imagine the worst happening to the kids, and what would I tell those parents? I was responsible for their safety and well-being. Each year I'd prepare as best I could. But I could see this time that I needed to know more than I do. I couldn't keep up, and more often than not I had to defer to the other nurse on more serious issues, doubting my own assessments, and realizing that I was not the best candidate for this position. I could not even assert myself when it was necessary or stand firm on my decisions.
So I am torn. Do I pass, when they offer me the opportunity next year? (More like, beg, plead, and tell me there will be no camp if there is no me). Or, do I pursue what I dread the most? Do I go back to school for the leadership, assessment, and pediatrics experience that I need?
See, I have "given up nursing" so many times it's not even funny. It's generally because the stress is so great. I also have bipolar illness, and maintaining my stability depends on my taking care not to get that stressed.
So. I have a year to decide, but actually, less than that, because I need to let the camp director know my decision right away if I'm not going to do it next year.
I really don't want to go back to school. and of course there are other options besides formally going back for my BSN.
But a part of me, in my heart of hearts, wants to try yet again. Nursing was my first love. I do love making those little ... angels feel better. And I love feeling like I have done a good job by them and their parents.
What to do, what to do.
But it sure proves the point that, once a nurse, always a nurse. She will always be a part of me, no matter how far I run.
