Amanda and the Bee

This post doesn't include pictures.

But you should read it anyway.

Don't skim. It is worth it.

Ready? Here we go.

Our swim team meets at an out-door pool. Our already tiny-team has been further reduced to only those who have qualified for regionals... and not even all of them come anymore. We spend the first 10-15 minutes of practice laying around in the shade, sleeping, or chatting, waiting for the coaches to show up.

On Monday, practice began -as usual- with lazing around on the deck. I was sitting next to a girl named Amanda. A bee came VERY close to her, she jumped about a foot in the air, but didn't stand up. Perhaps this action caused her to sit on it, but at any rate, she was stung in the leg and VERY distressed. "I AM ALLERGIC TO BEE-STINGS!" she exclaimed.

That caught some people's attention. "Someone should probably go get a lifeguard." I said, while rummaging through my swim bag to extract the stinger. I found a packet of history notes, and used the edge to scrape out the stinger, which is what you are supposed to do (though a credit-card is more useful, if you have one around). Amanda starts grabbing my leg for something to hold on to.
"Take my hand, not my leg." I said," Hand, not leg."
Our swim chaperon was very impressed with the way I was taking charge of the situation, and commented on my "calming presence."
I didn't think much of it. I am a certified lifeguard. I'm trained to do this sort of thing though, truly, this the first time I've actually USED it in the "real world."
The lifeguards came. They weren't very helpful. They filled out the incident report, gave Amanda an ice pack, and told her that 'oh by the way, we called the paramedics.'
"WHAT?" she said, but I guess it makes sense. She did say that she was allergic. But upon further questioning. (What usually happens when you are stung? Do you have your 'shot thing' with you?), she admitted that she had, in fact, never been stung by a bee before. Well then, how do you know that you are allergic? She had a blood-test that said she is "most likely" allergic to bee stings.)

A few minutes later the paramedics showed up and got to work with some equipment. They took her blood pressure, and checked her heart rate through a fancy little clip that went on her pinky. Our Chaperon (an Asian lady who rides the bus with us and always wears shirts with vibrant color patterns and is impressed by everything we do) thought that this was great excitement. "I've never seen real medical people, just the ones off of T.V shows!" she exclaimed. My answer was, "Well at least these guys aren't actors." But I thought it was cool too.

The paramedics wore blue suits, were balding, and 'fatherly 'looking. One had a floral patterned armband tattoo. They already knew about the situation, and asked if she itched anywhere, "Usually in the torso area, depending on the degree of the reaction. You need to check if you can see any little red bumps."

She was wearing a swimsuit. She hesitated. But there you go, it had to be done. Immediately, if not sooner, apparently.

That part was awkward.

She started to itch, and saw the bumps. The paramedics said, very calmly, that all they needed to do was give her a little shot, and it would be fine. She recoiled and grabbed my hand again. Tightly.

Amanda is afraid of needles.

"It is just a little one." they said.

They lied. That needle would have made a seamstress uneasy.

Amanda started crying. I felt her nails in my hand as I used my "calming voice" to reassure her as they prepared the needle.

Coach Odom --who had finally arrived, but was apathetic to the whole medical situation of one of her swimmers-- decided to made her presence known.

"Alayna, you need to come and stretch. "

Ya, That wasn't happening. I couldn't have removed my hand from Amanda's grasp if I had wanted to. And I didn't. She needed me. I said something to this effect.

"You have one minute to get over here and stretch with the team." was Odom's reply. "Now's not the time to 'play nurse'."

I am trained to react in emergencies. I'm not "playing" at anything. I recognized the situation and took the first steps of action. I was the only person who stayed with Amanda through the whole thing, while the COACH didn't get within 20 feet of the injured swimmer. I was going to see this thing through, no matter what the stupid coach said.
The Chaperon supported my decision, and I stayed.

Bonus points go to the paramedics for being able to get that shot into Amanda. She was shaking violently and crying hysterically. I had one hand on her shoulder to stabilize her, and the other was acting as a stress-ball.

Eventually, things calmed down. The shot was in, the band-aid on, and the trouble past. The paramedics  left. The swimmers were getting ready to enter the pool ( each swimmer had their own lane. THAT is how small we are now.). Amanda seemed to be fine, so I patted her awkwardly on the shoulder and went to join the team in the pool.
Odom stopped me. "You need to stretch."
fine. If that is all you care about in this whole flipp'n team then.... "Ok."
"You should have followed orders the first time." she muttered as I walked off to stretch.

Dear friends. I hate her.

But that wasn't even all. I could write several dissertations about all of the things that Odom does that don't bode well with me. But to contribute to the closing of this post, I'll just include one.

Odom was trying to describe a backstroke drill I "needed" to do, but I didn't understand a word. "She knows how to explain it." Odom said, "Hey, 'What's-Your-Name', come here and explain the drill."

'What's-Your-Name' was Amanda. Not only did Odom not care about her medical problem that included the arrival of an ambulance. She couldn't come up with her name, when there are only 3 practices left in the season. (Thank goodness.)

What is the point of this post? I originally planned that it would sound more like, "I just had a cool experience where I was able to use my training to help someone who needed it and isn't that cool?" Instead, it probably sounded like, "Hey, I helped this girl who was totally abandoned by our stupid coach who always plays favorites and never gives a care what happens to 90% of her swimmers."

The way I feel is somewhere in the middle. But I am especially glad that I was there to help. Amanda is far from my favorite person, but when she needed someone, I was there. It is good to know that I can be that "Someone," whenever the circumstances necessitate it.
























P.S. If you just skimmed this whole thing, you can stop now. It's over.