Another Story

The other most painful incident happened at camp two years ago this memorial day weekend. It was my first official day as camp medic.

We were in the dining hall finishing up really saucy wings for lunch and talking to the staff about nature safety.

Just that morning, I had been yanked from my files with the call, "Hey Sandy, come quick. Adam's been bitten by a snake and Bobby's out back trying to figure out whether it is poisonous or not." OK.

"What did the snake that bit him look like."

"This!" and a clear plastic bag full of a huge snake was held in front of me as I sat down to examine Adam's bite.

"You brought a dead, possibly poisonous snake into my medlodge?"

"Oh, it's not dead!" YIKES!

"Where were you when it bit you, Adam?"

"On my hands and knees reaching down into it's hole after it. I wanted it for our snake tank for reptile class."

Yeah. Thank God it wasn't poisonous. Anyway (this factors in to the story in a minute.)

So now it's lunch and the nature department is going over things to avoid, etc. I look over and see my friend Charles covered head to foot in BBQ sauce.

"I need a moist towellette" he laughs.

I, being the helpful young thing that I am, jumped up and ran into the kitchen to get him something to clean up with. I see a towel lying on the counter and a huge sink full of tepid, clear water. So I take the rag, plunge it and my arm, up to my elbow into the water.

Let me tell you about industrial kitchens. Cleaning dishes is a process. First you rinse and soap, then you wash again, then you clean rinse and then you sterilize. You can sterilize one of two ways. Cold water with chemicals or boiling water that is boiled by a mechanism in the sink. The water is maintained at minimum 180 degrees at all times.

Yes, I am that stupid.

The boiler had literally just been turned off and so because the water was still, there was less steam to alert me to the problem. Besides, I was in a hurry and not really paying attention.

The second my hand hit the water my attention became focused. Yea Gods, my attention was focused!

I jerked my arm back out and shook it off. For a split second I thought I might be OK. I ran for the faucet and turned on the cold water and held my hand and arm in the cool flow. Then I noticed my silver ring on my right ring finger. I yanked it off. It was still so hot I dropped it in the sink. Then the skin where the ring was began to bubble and the skin on the back of my hand began to wrinkle. One of the kitchen boys brought me a bucket full of ice and water and I plunged my hand into it. Then I grabbed the cooling towel off the floor, and walked back into the dining area. I handed the towel to Charles and sat down with my ice bucket. Charles and another friend Stephen, sitting next to him asked quietly if I was OK. I said, um, no and showed them my hand. I pointed with my chin toward the food prep area and I think they figured it out or something.

Then I hear,

"Sandy, is there anything else you want to add to today's comments, in light of the incident this morning."

"Uh, yeah, could would please not put our hands in places when we don't know what is actually down those holes..."

I got an attack of the giggles and sat down. Thirty minutes later I was in admin still dragging my bucket and the back of my hand now a mass of blisters up to my wrist.

My Dad called and I answered the phone. Eventually he asked me what was wrong, my voice sounded funny/tight to him, and I told him.

"And you aren't in the emergency room yet because?"

"It's only mild second degree Dad. Not much they can do about it anyway."

"What if this was one of the kids?"

"Well obviously I'd take them."

"So you aren't in the emergency room because?"

"Fine."

So I called Stephen down at the trading post and he came up and drove me to the ER. I was fine until they took my bucket away from me. Then they put the Silvadine Ointment on my hand. Now I was really not okay. The weight of the ointment was excruciating. Now I was sobbing in pain.

Poor Stephen. The whole way home he kept trying to cheer me up. Nothing was working. As we got closer to the camp I started trying to pull myself together, I figured I while we were going to be a couple minutes late to the nightly director's meeting at least we wouldn't miss all of it and I didn't want to walk in all weepy. Stephen watched this transformation like I had lost my mind.

At camp I am notorious for my ability to make the boys blush, especially Stephen. I heard later that he told another friend that he would take me and my ability to do that every day of the week and twice on Sunday over having to deal with me crying ever again. And yet it was the fact that I had a meeting that got me to pull it together.

Two years later, the pattern of my Celtic ring is still branded into that finger. I've worn a ring on that finger for over a decade as a symbol of a choice I made. I often worry about the fact that God burned it into my finger.

The staff still teases me everytime I walk though the dishwashing section of the kitchen.

"Now Sandy, I know this is gonna be hard, but please don't put your hand in the sterilizing sink."

Yeah, thanks.