I'm Trying...

The plan was to shake off the bad day and go back to happy camp director leading happy kids at beautiful, sunny camp.

Last night was rough. I think I woke up 10 times. Several of those wake ups were the sudden, sit straight up, gasping for breath after a bad dream wake ups. Except I wasn't having bad dreams. I just kept waking up thinking, "what if she loses her kidney?!" and "what if something happens to one of her brothers?!"

By the time I staggered to breakfast at 8:15, I was on the verge of tears and not ready for the day ahead. Luckily at camp, there's no time for crying.

After breakfast, 'A', 'M' and I headed to the mud pit to get it ready. It takes about an hour of digging and sinking your feet in the mud, running the hose, using shovels to mix the dirt to get the mud pit knee deep with deep black, thick, smooth mud. An hour later, the cabins arrived with excitement. They competed in tug-o-war and then, cabin by cabin, kids and counselors jumped into the mud. Some just got their legs muddy and some went head first.

At the end, as we do every week, the kids started chanting my name. I dramatically told them, "no, no, sorry, I am entirely too important and have a lot of business to do, I won't be going in the mud." They chanted some more and I dipped a toe in. They chanted louder and I belly flopped, face first, and then rose out of the mud yelling, "are you satisfied?!" They were.

I hate the mud pit. You get mud in your mouth, nose, eyes and ears. The lake (which is where we go to clean off) is cold, so I usually wimp out and just splash a little water on myself, meaning that my shower is DESTROYED because I do exactly what I don't want the kids to do (can you imagine what the bathroom would look like it we let 80 mud covered kids attempt to strip off mud covered clothing and then wash piles of mud down the drains?). Kids love it and they love seeing me covered in mud. I know that counselors and then the lead staff going into the mud is all part of the experience and so we do it and we do it with gusto. But I hate it.

After I washed off and cleaned up the mud trail through my house and shower, I called my fiance and promptly burst into tears. I hadn't planned on that and while there hasn't been time for crying yet, I actually had a little extra time this morning, so apparently, that is when the tears come.

What if she loses her kidney?! I can't. I can't even think about it. I know that worrying won't help and I'm trying to be zen-like and let go of the feelings, but oh my god, I am so worried. I am sick to my stomach. I am nauseous. In 7 years of camp, every injury or illness was a fluke, just something that can happen despite our rules and procedures and safety practices. Kids trip and fall. Bees exist even when we spray all the hives away. Things happen even with all of our effort. But this was OUR FAULT.

I should never have settled for a nursing student. A registered nurse wouldn't have misread the dose. A registered nurse would have known more about transplants. Yes, being a camp nurse usually means handing out allergy pills to a handful of kids, but I should have never taken for granted the need for a registered nurse. Or I should have checked the medication myself. I would have known we had a kid on anti rejection medication for a kidney transplant. I should have had 'S' ask for specific instructions from the parent when the kid got dropped off at the bus. I should have rushed the kid to the hospital as soon as we knew she had been given too much medication, despite what poison control said... I shoulda, shoulda, shoulda.... I know it doesn't help now. And when I step back and try to be objective, we have a good system in place, and a nursing student is sufficient and it wouldn't make sense for me to try to micro-manage every aspect of camp. But I just feel so incredibly guilty. And as the leader, it all falls back to me, so it is MY fault that this happened. And ohgod, what if she loses her kidney?!

I feel drained. I feel joyless. I feel utterly hopeless and devastated. I desperately want this week to be over. I want her brothers to go home (even though they are the two nicest kids) because I am so afraid something is going to happen to one of them. I want to call the parents and ask how she is, but I am too afraid to face them. It was a simple mistake, but that's just not an acceptable answer to a parent who I promised that their children would be well cared for. Camp isn't fun, it feels scary and dangerous and I am overwhelmed by the responsibility. I have always been aware of the responsibility that weighed on my shoulders. It is why I work so hard at hiring and staff training, and why I am a strict camp director that supervises staff closely and puts a lot of emphasis on risk management. I have never taken the responsibility lightly but this is the first time I don't want it anymore.

I want to go home. I don't want to be in charge of peoples lives. I feel homesick and tired and overwhelmed and I have been hiding (aka- having a pity party) in my house since the mudpit.  I have to lifeguard at 4:30, so I can't completely bail out. But I'm wishing I could.