I spoke too soon on the relatively easy day I had at Vacation Bible School on Monday. Or, as Aria calls it, 'Cation Bibah Schoo.
Didn't I mention in a previous post that 4,000 kids were there? That wasn't totally accurate. It was 4,300. And Thursday there were only two nurses, of which I was unfortunately, fifty percent of the workforce. If you do the math, that equals out to one nurse per 2,150 kids. It's not a good ratio, no matter how you spin it. And I told you I was a baby nurse, right? Just want to make sure you were aware, as this fact didn't seem to matter to the 4,300.
Loaves and fishes, Sarah, loaves and fishes.
Or more accurately, bandaids and icepacks.
Once again, I was the consummate icepack-giver-outer, and I guess my reputation had preceded me around the school, because kids were lining up to get one of my famous icepacks. Bug bites, dodge balls in the eye, imaginary bruises and even a fall down the stairs were unable to mask the true intention of the injured (injurees?): classic attention-seeking behavior, and need for some TLC. I get that, I do. And I doled it out, lemme tell you.
Until along came Joel.
(Not his real name. I don't want to be accused of violating HIPAA or anything. Although its unclear whether mosquito bites or dodge ball contusions necessitate privacy protection, but whatever. For the sake of this post, we'll call him Joel.)
I had 30 minutes left to go in my day, when out of nowhere, this security guard comes running up the hall hollering and dragging poor, bleeding Joel behind him, beseeching me for aid. I mentioned I'm a baby nurse, right? That means my knee-jerk reaction is to call someone else. Namely, Joel's mother. Which I did. But she didn't answer her phone. Probably busy getting a pedicure, or laughing over lunch with her girlfriends, or something fun that all of the other lucky, non-volunteering mothers were doing, and which I really wished I were doing right at that moment since, as I mentioned, I'm a baby nurse. But as she didn't answer her phone, and the security guards, teachers, VBS-directors and Joel himself were all staring at me expectantly waiting for my expert analysis of the situation, it appeared that I actually needed to - well - render some daggum aid. Ahem. Deep Breath. Here goes: Step aside, people, coming through. Help is now here. I am the Nurse. What seems to be the problem?
I escorted poor, brave, little stoic Joel, who refused to shed a tear, to the bathroom and washed him down so I could get a look at where all this blood was coming from. Turns out, he had been playing an impromptu game of football with his buddies when his face had an unfortunate collision with another kid's mouth. Or more accurately, teeth. Joel had huge gash on his cheek which was bleeding like crazy, and to my non-expertly-trained baby-nurse eye, appeared to be necessitating some stitches.
So what did I do? I called his mom again. Put down the Us Weekly, pay the nice nail tech, and make haste to the church to pick up your injured child, woman! She still didn't answer. (I'm not begrudging her the pedicure, I'm just jealous).
So then what did I do?
Icepack! And a band-aid. More ice. Another band-aid. And lots of words of encouragement and scratching his back and telling him how brave he was. Until his mommy finally arrived. And took him to the pediatrician's office, where they employ people who actually know what to do when a child gets a facial laceration during VBS.
They told me later that his mother called to update us on his condition and he had to get four stitches. And she wanted to be sure to thank everyone at church who acted quickly, including - ahem- the nurse. How do you like that? I did it! The icepack-giver-outer baby-nurse actually helped somebody - or at least, no further harm was done. Feels pretty good.
One more thing before I go... would you, my blog friends and family, please say a prayer for someone I love very much? Without going into detail, a beloved member of our family is very sick and is in great need of prayer and healing. Can you all please send up some prayers for him? God will know who it is, just tell Him I sent you. Thanks, Friends!