Some days were rougher than others. In one particular week we received a group with very high needs. A lot of them were non verbal, with a lot of prescriptions to take care of, lots and lots of special equipment for the bathroom, as well as for lifting.
The nurses were all over the place, checking, guiding us how to go about things. Bottom line, we were more tired than ever every night.
I particular remember one night. After shutting the lights off I could see all sort of LEDs flashing and beeping from different pieces of equipment and devices that we had monitoring some of our guests. All of a sudden I got a call to go up to the main office. The camp director was there, as well as my cabin coworkers; two of them to be exact.
There was something particular about this meeting. The lights were dimmed and everybody was kind of subdued. Almost as if they were waiting for me to lead the meeting and react accordingly. Paneling with a yellow varnish framed the whole office.
The camp director looked frazzled. He was wearing some sort of white lab coat, and had just taken off some black rubber gloves; like the kind you use to handle something in acid or with very high voltage. The conversation went one; lots of words were uttered like a freight train with no stop. I can’t even remember what the conversation was about though. All I know is that out of the sudden he turned towards me and started telling me how they took care of one their visitors. Leaving me with a total puzzled expression, trying to make sense of his words. I do remember him saying “this takes cares of everything” as he was showing me a syringe. I was still confused and now a bit worried about his maniac face. My friends were there still waiting for me to react, and almost as if they knew something I didn’t know, amused and maybe ready to help.
The director continues jabbing at me with some sort of nonsense philosophy about the ethos of Jesus and Judas Iscariot . Now he is also holding a superset sausage that was very popular at camp. Campers loved it, and there was always plenty of it.
As he is holding it he explains:
“MIguel, you’re a clever guy and we are just delighted having you here. But you see, sometimes at camp we have a human surplus. Like last night. That camper you saw pulled out of the cabin next door. We couldn’t help it. He was in bad shape and we have a lot of people to feed.”
As he says these last words he points the syringe upwards and presses just enough to let a drop of the bubbly orangy liquid squeeze through the needle hole, as the viscosity of the unknow liquid can’t resist the effect of gravity and succumb. “Not to worry Miguel” he continues. “Nothing here goes to waste.” My friends are by now cutting and devouring slices of sausage; the same sausage the camp director was holding a minute before. Their mouths, messy. Bloody. At this point I am fed up. I had it, and I want to get out of the 6 by 4 box. As I turned around I feel the clinched of the camp director from behind and around my neck, as he murmurs in my ear “ you will not go to waste either. I got you cover brotha!” Without thinking for a second I grabbed the hand dorsal of his left hand with my right hand, passed it over my head for a perfect “sankyo” and slammed him to the ground.
Right after all I could hear was a very loud grunting in my ear that made me sit up, to realize that one of my campers needed the bathroom. Drenched in sweat I got out of my bed and realized that the lights were still flashing and beeping.
I still had two more hours to sleep.