Slow week, week two memories and soup

This has been a slow week, as was last week frankly. There were the standard whiny children, over concerned/overbearing scout masters, scrapes, cuts, bloody noses, but over all it was slow. I imagine I'm gonna pay for it in the eventual. Better sleep up now.

In the meantime, all this time on my hands has given me an opportunity for reflection. For the past three years I have always had a physiological emergency on week 2 (the week I'm in right now). It hasn't happened this week (so far, but we are in the home stretch). Makes me wonder. Course I've never been superstitious, so, who really cares right?

Three summers ago a staff member (who was manic depressive) had a meltdown in the staff lodge while a camper was having a seizure and massively altered mental status. The following Thursday a huge troop got lost on the mountain during staff night off and the formerly mentally unstable staff member was allowed to help search (no I don't know what they were thinking, no one asked me...) and managed to "sprain" both ankles on the way down. I managed to fall out of the golf cart, and another staffer was also cut up, but the two of us, bleeding everywhere, tended to this young man's wounds. Then it was decided he should stay in medlodge with me over night. The idea of him in the same building with me and having access to sharps was hair-raising to say the least.

Two summers ago, a deaf troop was here (they come every year this time, actually) and one of the boys suffered what looked like to me anyway like a psychotic break. He bit, scratched spit and screamed his way up to my medlodge, carried by his father and scout master. Unfortunately an idiot was there ahead of me (see earlier post about volunteer EMT-B from Miami Suburb) and his solution was to duct tape this 11 year old child into a stretcher. Dear God in Heaven. Yes, it went down hill from there. When the paramedics showed up, they cut him out, and he decked the paramedic so they had to tie him back up.

Last summer a staffer with Ashbergers (a mild autism) got off his meds and had a little episode where we were chasing him through the woods during a staff meeting with our council executive who made the mistake of asking what the staff thought about the massive overbooking that occurred that week. Much to his surprise we answered him directly, specifically and accurately. Don't ask a question if you don't want to hear the answer. Anyway, these two massive shake downs were happening simultaneously. When I called mom and said, "come get your son, now!" she said, "But it's a two hour drive and it's eleven o'clock" so I answered, "then I guess you better start driving before it gets any later..."

We have other psychological emergencies, a staffer overdosed on Xanex, a camper threatened to light himself on fire with a bug coil and lighter fluid (that one was not nearly as bad as it sounds and actually more an issue with a stupid and insensitive scout master...) and several campers and staffers found out a loved one died. But these were not during week two.

This week on staff night off I cooked my orange soup. The name has nothing to do with the flavor, it's the color. Here's the recipe, it's the bomb!

1 Vidalia Onion chopped and sauted in
1 stick of butter then add
16 oz ginger ale then add
1 can coconut cream and
1 large box good vegetable stock stir in
1 bag carrot slices and
1 bag sweet potato fries cut into bit sized pieces and let simmer then add
2 large boxes butternut squash soup and
1 large box fire roasted carrot soup.

Simmer another 45 minutes.

Serve with sour cream and fresh bacon pieces.
(Actually I cook two rashers chopped up and add a handful to each soup bowl, but to each his own)
(Also a good sprinkling of chili powder gives the soup a nice kick)

Three weeks down, five to go!