Camp Nurse (32 page)

Dylan came forward now that things had calmed down. I motioned to Alice and Louise and they waved back to indicate they’d manage without me. I walked with Dylan down to the lake and we sat on the dock. In moments it all spilled out.

“You were my dad’s nurse, weren’t you? It finally hit me! You were with him when he died. I was trying to figure out where I’d seen you and it all came back to me.”

“What do you remember?”

“The machines! It was like we were in the cockpit of a plane – all those dials and screens and stuff. I kept thinking he was the pilot and we were going down. My mom kept saying he was getting better but anyone could see he was a goner.”

He had many questions and they rushed out all at once.

“My dad didn’t squeeze my hand. If he heard me why didn’t he give me a sign?

“He was so cold! When you put that warmed-up blanket on him that made him feel good.

“He was breathing weird. It was like he was choking, but was he almost dead by then or just right out of it because of the drugs?

“What drug was he on? Was he like in some la-la-land or was that a coma? Was it the drug that did him in at the end?”

I had no difficulty answering these questions even though it was over two years ago. I have an ability – most nurses do – to recall each patient’s death, along with many of the specific details.

“Your dad probably heard you but was too weak to squeeze your hand. As you know, he had the tube in his mouth, so he couldn’t speak to you … When a person is dying, the organs shut down and the blood moves to the body’s core. That’s why your father’s body was cool and I put the warm blanket on him, to keep him comfortable … That gasping or choking sound is the normal breathing pattern of a dying person … The drug was morphine and I gave the doses I judged to be sufficient to keep him painfree and comfortable but not more than that, which might have speeded up his death.”

I had a hunch about the question he really wanted to ask. “Dylan, are you wondering if your dad knew you were there with him?”

Dylan nodded. “Yeah, kinda. What do you think?”

“No one knows for sure but I always talk to my patients, even when they are unconscious or dying, even though I don’t expect an answer. I believe your dad heard your voice and felt your presence, and then he was gone.”

Dylan thought this over before he spoke. “At first, his death didn’t affect me much. I was okay with it, but my mom and sister took it hard. My mom had a total breakdown. She can’t handle it when I go away, but I need my space and camp is the only place I can get it.”

I sat listening and looking out across the lake as he spoke. I wanted him to feel at ease, that he could take all the time he needed to share what was on his mind.

“I did everything to make my dad proud of me, and then he ended up in the cancer ward with needles and tubes stuck in him, and then in the
ICU
attached to monster machines.” Dylan shook his head in disgust. “But, hey, I’m good now. I’m dealing. I have an awesome therapist. He says I can still have a relationship with my dad even though he’s dead. It sounds unreal, doesn’t it?”

“It makes sense to me.”

“All I have to do is play his favourite song and it’s like he’s right there with me.”

“What was your dad’s song?”

“It’s called ‘Stairway to Heaven.’ Have you heard of it?”

You had to ask, didn’t you?

“Well, I’d better get back.” He stood up to go. “My cabin’s going kite-flying even though there’s not much of a breeze.” He felt the air with his hand. “Wouldn’t it be great to be a kite?”

Naomi was still in the hospital. She was not coming back to camp. Her parents drove from their home in Montreal to be with her. Her doctors still couldn’t come up with a diagnosis but she was feeling better and kept apologizing for “causing such a fuss and making everyone worry.”

“It’s bizarre,” Louise said, “but I’ve seen this syndrome before. It’s called
la belle indifference
. It’s rare and occurs mostly in adolescent girls, usually well-adjusted, high-achievers like Naomi who have everything going for them. It usually starts with anxiety but quickly spirals out of control, as we saw.”

“In between attacks, she was perfectly fine,” I said, “even laughing about it.”

Louise nodded. “Patients with this syndrome typically make light of their symptoms. The other feature is that each event occurs in front of witnesses and if they fall, they manage to protect themselves, so there’s rarely an injury.”

“What are her parents like?” Alice asked Louise, who had met them when she’d gone to visit Naomi in the hospital.

“Absolutely lovely. Beside themselves with worry, of course. There was also a younger brother and an older sister and they seemed to be a very close and caring family.”

“So, it’s hard to understand why …” said Alice, her voice trailing off.

We backed off and let it go. We knew and accepted the fact that there weren’t always answers. Some medical mysteries never get solved. Many things get better on their own, without our doing, or understanding, anything.

Sex was on my mind. I’d been thinking a lot about it ever since the infamous talk in the Tent. I asked Alice, “Camp is a very sexual place, don’t you think?”

“No, not sexual,” she said, “but
intimate
, I would say.”

It was a true and important distinction. Counsellors engaged in lots of friendly hugging and playful touching, but “not in a sexual way,” as they pointedly, jokingly reassured us, among themselves and with their kids. Campers often walked hand in hand or with their arms entwined; counsellors held or carried their children and gave lots of hugs and pats on the back. Teenagers were in the process of growing aware of themselves as sexual beings. Everywhere you looked, you could see them blossoming right before your eyes. There was no doubt about it: sexuality was in the air. And there was something else charging up the atmosphere at camp. It was particularly special because it’s something you don’t see often these days and it was a pleasant thing to be around: affection, even, at times,
romance
.

Many evenings when I walked past the dimly lit staff lounge, where the counsellors played ping-pong and listened to music, I would see some couples standing off to the side or lounging on the couches, their arms around each other. I’d seen them go off to the woods, hand in hand. Late at night they shared details of their relationships, and when they got beyond the posturing and braggadocio about the hot and heavy hook-ups and the devastating breakups, they opened up and shared their real feelings – their longings, their desire for intimacy, and their disappointments, too.

Recognizing camp as an ideal place to discuss these matters that were on everyone’s minds, Rabbi Emily formed a girls-only group and invited Alice and me to join a session. (A male rabbi was planning a boys’ group and then a co-ed one, too.) Rabbi Emily started off by explaining that the purpose of the group was for them to explore not just their
feelings
but also their beliefs and values. She called the group “Sacred Choices,” a term which at first elicited derisive eye-rolling and groans. They might not have regarded these choices as sacred but I do think most considered them important. Perhaps “choices” was also part of her message. Rabbi Emily was the perfect person to lead this group because the girls liked and respected her. She was young and cool, spoke their language, and knew many of them personally from a yoga class she took with them at camp. She started off the first group by stating it would be an “open discussion about how we make the moral choices that define us.”

You don’t get that in sex ed class!
I thought.

She assured them they could say or ask anything and it would be confidential. It would be a safe space to talk openly and honestly. They took her at her word and didn’t hold back. At the first session, Lee announced she had a new boyfriend.

“Yup, and he’s here at camp! Last night I had my first kiss!”

“Wow! Your first kiss ever?” someone asked.

“Well, no.”
Get real
, her eyes said. “My first kiss with him.”

“Is it true love?” one girl asked.

“Maybe,” she said with a smile. “He may be the one.”

“Was it a French kiss,” someone teased her, “or maybe an Aussie kiss
^*
?”

“No … just a regular one.”

“How does he treat you?” Rabbi Emily asked. Her question seemed to stump Lee and she sat there, mulling it over.

Another girl, whose name was Tara, spoke up. “My love interest doesn’t even know I’m alive. I’m
so
crushing on him but I can’t even say who it is.”

I had met Tara a few days ago when she’d come to the Health Centre not feeling well. “I have the ’flu,” she’d said weakly, sinking onto the couch. She was pale and clammy and said her body “ached all over.” Every few moments, she doubled over with stomach cramps. I sat down beside her and placed my finger tips on her pulse. It was pounding. She looked at me. Her face was tragic. “There’s a guy I like, but I don’t even register on his radar.” She covered her face with her hands.

“Do you spend much time with him?”

“No, and there’s no way anything could ever happen between us.” She revealed her crush was on Matti, the song-leader, and Tara knew that at twenty-two years of age to her fifteen-year-old self, he was an inappropriate choice, but what could she do? I truly sympathized. How well I recalled my own attractions to older men,
^*
not to mention days spent lolling by the phone for a boy to call!

Many questions the girls asked surprised me in their sophistication. I had to wonder, whatever happened to good ol’ cooties? What about the progression of first base, second base, etcetera? Were these girls really so experienced and brazen or was it all male-imitation locker-room talk? It was hard to tell.

“Do you think a
PSD
– a pre-sex-discussion – is a good idea?” one girl asked. “I’ve heard that sex is actually better if you get to know the other person first.”

“How do you get it to stop at major kiss action and go no further?” another asked.

“Maybe you have to show some restraint before it gets that far,” Rabbi Emily suggested. “You do have the right to say no.”

“Yes, but do we have the right to say
yes
?” Lee asked with her usual boldness.

Before Rabbi Emily had a chance to answer, another girl jumped in with her question. “What I want to know is, how well should you know the guy for just casual sex?”

Rabbi Emily smiled and answered. “At the heart of all of these questions is knowing who you are and doing what you believe is right. You can only do that after you’ve given it some careful consideration.”

“I’m not sure if I’m into casual sex,” one girl bravely confessed, putting forward a position that suddenly seemed both quaint and radical. “I want to be at least semi-serious with the guy before I go all the way.” She looked around to gauge her friends’ reactions. “I mean, does that sound uptight? I know it’s kind of old-school.”

It must have taken courage to express this view but it also emboldened others to speak up and express their belief that, for them, too, physical intimacy was special, something they wanted to save for when they were ready and with the right person.

“I agree,” said another girl. “Sex without emotions does sound empty. I’m not a prude, but I don’t want to be crude, either.” She looked startled, then pleased when they laughed at her accidental rhyme. “I’m so not ready for it.” She looked suddenly shy in front of her friends, but they nodded their encouragement.

The questions kept coming.

“Rabbi, what’s a good age to start?” a girl asked, “I mean, for going all the way? And what about oral sex? It’s not really sex, is it?”

“I heard you can get re-virginized, if you lose your virginity,” said another girl. “Not that I need it,” she hastened to add, “I was just wondering if it’s possible, in case …”

“How can you tell if you’re gay?” someone else asked. “Just curious,” she added.

Rabbi Emily spoke in general about sexual orientation and then openly about her own experience of coming out and how she now lived as a gay woman, married to her partner, Cynthia.

As the discussion continued, I looked around at the group. The girls were beautiful – and I wasn’t just thinking about their inner beauty. In their outward, superficial shapes, sizes, colours, and even with their so-called flaws – a lisp, a stutter, excess weight, pimples, braces: the things they thought were all anyone saw – they were physically beautiful. Their beauty came from their radiant good health and from their natural, unadorned looks. Being their true selves made them shine with loveliness.

Rabbi Emily began to wind down the discussion with a few final thoughts that she prefaced by saying were her own, personal opinions. “It’s important to stay true to what you believe. Having boundaries defines yourself and bestows dignity and self-respect. It comes down to, what kind of woman do you want to be? Are you prepared to make choices that are right for you, even if they are difficult or unpopular? I believe that what each of us has to offer, both inside and outside, is a gift from God and that we should value it. We’ve each been given a body and a soul but it is up to us to be the stewards of ourselves and take care of our health.”

She had given them a lot to think about – me, too.

It was a great summer. We on the health care team congratulated each other: most kids stayed healthy and the incidence of injury and infection and the use of prescription medications were way down. Our illness prevention campaign had been a huge success. It was hard to leave, but I was feeling rested and refreshed and it was time to get back to my job in the city. My kids were staying
a few more weeks on their own and were looking forward to experiencing camp as it should be, without parents around.

Harry came to see me off. “Camp is so sick, Mom.”

By then, of course, I knew that in some circles,
sick
can be a good thing.

“This is the funnest camp, ever,” Max said, wrapping me in a hug.

“C’mon, bro,” Harry said to Max, pulling him away. “Say goodbye to Mom.”