Camp Nurse (28 page)

“Hey, I didn’t know that would happen,” Eddie protested, putting his feet up on the desk and lacing his hands behind his head. “I had no idea.”

Rudy called Eddie’s parents. His behaviour was dangerous and we couldn’t keep him at camp, he told them, but they begged for him to stay, promising they’d send his behavioural medications the next day by courier. Rudy said no, but he later relented at Seth’s request. Despite the pain from his burns, and the anger he must have felt at Eddie’s prank, Seth persuaded Rudy to give him another chance. “I’ll make sure that kid straightens out and flies right,” Seth promised Rudy. “There’s something about him …”

“You like a challenge, don’t you, man?” Rudy looked at him in disbelief.

I have to admit, I was skeptical that Seth could make Eddie improve his behaviour and surprised that Rudy had been swayed. As for Eddie, he didn’t even want to be there.

“I hope they send me home,” he said. “Camp sucks. I hate how they’re always shoving religion down our throats. I’m an atheist.”

My heart sunk. I’d just been warming up to it, myself. But what worried me more was that Eddie seemed to feel no remorse. He sat there, scowling and unrepentant. He made me angry, but
I kept my cool and went to check on Seth. When I came back, I saw that Eddie had gone into his chart and read Louise’s note recommending he restart his medications. Eddie jumped out of the chair and began enacting a furious monologue, sneering and spitting in fury.

“Thanks, Mom, thanks, Dad, for putting me on meds that have ruined my life and made me the zombie I am today! It was always so important to you that I sit still and get good grades. It’s easier to put me on Ritalin, isn’t it? So fuck you! If you expect me to take that shit, it’s not going to happen. This place is a fucking Nazi concentration camp!” He stormed out the door, unzipped his pants, and urinated on the door of the Health Centre, yelling out obscenities as he ran off. Seth started to go after him but I held him back.

I wondered if Eddie would ever agree to go back on his meds and privately, I was glad I wouldn’t have to deal with this problem. My shift at camp was almost over. I was already thinking of home and the amenities awaiting me there, comforts that, come to think of it, I hadn’t missed this summer nearly as much as I had in the past. But the night before I left camp that summer, something happened that put all other problems into their proper perspective. We were working late when Layla came in with Alon, her assistant tripper. “It’s nothing,” I heard him say out on the porch. But when he walked in and we saw the scattering of bruises on his arms and legs and noted his pale complexion, we knew right away that he was seriously ill. A few days later, at a clinic in Toronto, the diagnosis was confirmed: leukemia. Alon’s life was put on hold as he faced chemotherapy, radiation, and an uncertain future.

The next morning, Alice and I reported to the nurses who were taking over from us. As I packed up my car, campers and counsellors came to say goodbye and give us hugs. One of them, Bradley, the boy who was never without his catcher’s mitt, came
over to ask me, “You comin’ back next summer?” We were standing in the sun and he shielded his face and squinted up at me.

“I’d like to,” I said, unable at that moment to be more enthusiastic. I was preoccupied with the shocking news about Alon and I couldn’t think about next year. Bradley didn’t know about any of that and had no such ambivalence.

“I sure hope so,” he said, waving goodbye. “Well, see you then!” He stepped out of the sunlight and onto the shaded path toward his cabin.

I was all ready to leave, but my kids hung back, crouched in a huddle with their friends – Max with Ryan and Harry with Becky, her dark curls covering her face – as they worked on some problem with a pencil and paper. At last, Becky got up and shouted out the answer. “Only 341 more days until camp starts again!”

Of course I went back the next summer. I had finally experienced camp’s magic and was hooked. I was a happy camper, now!

The evening before the first day – the campers would be arriving the next morning – Rudy gathered us in the staff lounge for a meeting. The counsellors sat on the floor and Alice, Louise, and I were on folding chairs at the back. First, he welcomed everyone back and shared his excitement about making this summer the best, ever. He ended his remarks with a word of advice. “Whatever your experience was with a child last year, good or bad, forget it. Give each kid the benefit of a fresh start. Everyone changes.”

He didn’t name names but Alice and I looked at each other and mouthed “Eddie.” We’d heard he was returning and couldn’t believe it. After the terrible incident with Seth, and Eddie’s ongoing obnoxious behaviour and refusal to go back on his meds, he was sent home, but not before he stole money from the camp office, destroyed someone’s radio, and defecated on Rudy’s cabin doorstep. Despite all of that, his parents had managed to convince Rudy to take him back, albeit on a trial basis. One incident of bad behaviour, Rudy warned them, and Eddie would be sent home.

I looked around the room. It was nice to see familiar faces and to be one, myself. I saw
CITS
who had graduated to being
counsellors, and last year’s counsellors who had been promoted to unit heads or specialists in areas such as water-skiing or swimming. There were a few
CITS
who had been rowdy and had pulled some crazy stunts last summer who were now back as counsellors. Alice and I wondered how they’d managed to prove to Rudy that they’d turned themselves around. How had they demonstrated that they had the leadership potential he said he was looking for?

“It takes more than a pulse to land a job at Camp Sol,” Rudy always said. “You have to have the right stuff.”

But at that staff meeting, they did seem to have settled down. They listened quietly as Rudy spoke. One was even embarrassed when he was reminded of his past shenanigans and insisted he no longer be called his old, tough nickname, Bones, the moniker of some cartoon villain. Now, he’d be going by his real name: Eugene. “I have to set a good example for the kids,” he said.

Looking around that staff lounge, I saw my favourite counsellor, Seth. Rudy’s daughter Layla was back, as was Matti, the charismatic song-leader, softly strumming his guitar (it was irresistible to him) while Rudy spoke. Rudy told us about Alon who was still undergoing treatment. His family members were being tested to see if one of them was a match for a bone marrow transplant, a procedure that offered a chance of a cure. He wasn’t well enough to come back to camp any time soon.

Well, the kids might have changed, but not Alice and me – not one bit. We fell right back into our summer friendship and easy partnership.

After the staff meeting, Alice, Louise, and I had a powwow with the senior counsellors to plan strategies to keep everyone healthy. We prepared first-aid kits and placed them in each cabin and reminded the counsellors about the do-it-yourself first-aid station, which campers and counsellors could use to treat anything itchy, sore, swollen, or bruised without having to wait for
us. We taught them how to handle emergencies until we could get there. We discussed ways to reduce the incidence of infections and the consequent use of prescription medications, which had been so high the previous summer, the main ways being handwashing and good hygiene.

“One sneeze sends thousands of droplets into the air,” Louise told them in a scary voice. “Touch a slimy nose, then touch someone without washing your hands, and – bingo! – infection.”

Perhaps a small dose of fear – or at least vigilance – is a good thing when it comes to preventing infections. Well, it certainly got camp off to a healthy start.

When the kids arrived the next day, I quickly discovered that Rudy was absolutely right about how much children can change in a year. Some of them who had been on several meds were now on fewer, or lower doses. In many cases, their medical conditions had stabilized or improved. The most noticeable changes were in the teenagers.

Daniel was back. “Yo!” he called out to us as he dropped off a trunk of equipment for his insulin pump.

“How’s it going?” I asked.

“I’m good,” was all he said, eager to beat it out of there. “Expect lots of calls from my mom. She’s still pretty hyper,” he said as he joined his group.

He was more confident dealing with his condition, so much so that he didn’t even want Seth checking and reminding him about his blood-sugar testing. If his mother called to make a change in his diet or the rate on his insulin pump, he’d say, “Yeah, yeah, I’ll get on to it,” and walk away. A year older now, he was going to be more of a challenge to keep a close watch while still allowing him his independence.

Another teenager who seemed to have made a change – more like a complete
transformation
, from hellion to angel – was Eddie. He looked pretty much the same, still small and thin,
wearing glasses this year and multiple earrings. However, what
was
different was his smile, the reliable way he showed up each morning for his meds, and his good manners. Seth had asked to be his counsellor again, eager to reinforce the strides Eddie had made. I often saw Seth point at his eyes, then at Eddie’s, and back to his own, to remind Eddie he was keeping tabs on him.

Sharon continued to suffer frequent severe headaches. She still felt frustrated to have to come to us for medication she took by herself at home. Since she was a year older now and very responsible, and to practise our philosophy of encouraging children to be more self-sufficient, we decided to let her keep a small amount of medication with her in the cabin to take as she needed. Sharon was pleased with the new plan.

I saw Sophie’s chart, so I knew she was back, but I’d never actually met her. Now fourteen years old, she was the camper with spina bifida who catheterized herself throughout the day to remove urine from her bladder. She was managing well and still very private about her condition.

Bradley, who still had his baseball and catcher’s mitt with him wherever he went, and who still took his meds at his “own discretion,” came in and gave me a big welcoming hug. “I knew you’d show,” he said. He was sweet, and thankfully had stopped his annoying habit of reminding us that he was “gifted.”

Mitchell seemed pleased to be back. He kept up his role of cabin clown and still always made himself the butt of his own jokes.

I saw Amy around camp, either with her cabin mates or by herself, standing and staring at objects. Not as fixated on sand as she was last year, this summer she was fascinated with weather, particularly clouds, which she watched for hours and could describe in great detail. The most dramatic change about Amy was her looks. Her hair was now long and lustrous and her body had become curvaceous. Without even being aware of it,
Amy had blossomed into an attractive, even sexy, young woman.

Xiu-Ling and Frankie were back.

“I don’t want to be in the same cabin with her!” Xiu-Ling said loudly, for all at pill call to hear. “All she wants to do is sit around all day and read. She’s no fun.”

“But you wrote on the form you wanted me to be in your cabin,” Frankie whined. She turned to me. “She keeps dropping stuff from the upper bunk onto me. On purpose.”

“By accident!” Xiu-Ling insisted.

“On purpose!” Frankie pouted.

“You’re such a baby and you’re so insensitive!” Xiu-Ling yelled at her.

“Yes, but … you’re so …” Frankie stammered, trying to come up with a comeback. “You’re so
sensitive
!”

“Ha!” was all Xiu-Ling said. She came over to whisper to me. “Between you and me, Frankie could use a higher dose of her meds.”

I smiled at her and joined Alice who was handing out pills and welcoming new and returning campers.

Nathan was back. Much healthier this summer, he no longer needed to cling to his counsellor Warren; he now came by himself or with a friend every morning to take his inhalers and a daily pill to control his asthma.

Dylan, too, was back this summer. Now fourteen, he still occasionally paced outside my room and looked me over curiously. When I approached, he dashed off. I wasn’t sure if he’d placed me yet. Two years ago, his father had died in the
ICU
and I had been his nurse. I remembered his horrible, painful death from liver cancer and the way his mother had fought so hard to save him, right up until her husband’s last breath. When we did decide to stop treatment, because it was futile and of no benefit, she was furious. In the end, Dylan’s father’s death had not been a peaceful one. Seeing me must have brought back a flood of
painful memories for him, but I wasn’t sure he was ready to face them. I had decided to wait for a signal from him.

Alice and I kept up our daily walks. Conversation was just as easy between us, though sometimes we were simply quiet, enjoying that peaceful time in the early morning before the kids were up and the mosquitoes buzzed, before it got hot and we got busy in the clinic. We usually saw no one other than the occasional early-morning jogging rabbi or eager-beaver
CIT
who was into fitness. Sometimes we sat on the dock, enjoying the stillness of the lake, and watched the darting water striders on its surface. Alice taught me to identify hemlock, spruce, fir, and pine trees and laughed when I told her I’d always thought they were
all
Christmas trees! She pointed out a woodpecker poised at the side of a tree, a cedar waxwing eating red berries, and once, a regal blue heron. She caught sight of a family of minks with their silky, black fur and long tails, but I wasn’t quick enough to see them before they scurried away into a cave of rocks near the lake.

One afternoon, a few days after camp started, Alice and I were just returning from a walk when a crowd ran up to tell us that Mitchell had been injured. We ran to the Health Centre where Louise was examining him. The first clue to what had happened was Eddie. He was in the waiting room with a big smirk on his face, sitting beside Seth who was steaming mad, but mostly upset at himself for not preventing the incident. “He sucker-punched Mitch,” Seth said, “for no reason whatsoever.”