Such it cracking time, it makes me sick…

Okay, so this has been a bad week.

Well, that’s an understatement. This has been a catastrophically bad week.

At the end of last week, I tripped over a log, and twisted my ankle to about 70 to 90 degrees. It hurt a bit at first, but after that my ankle was alright, I just had a slightly limited range of mobility. So I walked around on it all weekend. I should point out that I did seek medical advice at our ‘health lodge’. Unfortunately, I saw one of two health officers (one good, one pretty crap). Can you guess which one?

When the health officer returned this week after the weekend, I stopped by for a check up. And thankfully for me, Pat (the good health officer) was available to look at my ankle. He has a particular interest in ankles as it turns out, so I know I’m in good hands. He unwrapped my bandage, and took one look at my ankle, before saying two key words: X-ray, hospital. Fan-bloody-tastic.

As it turns out, Pat got it right on the nose. I have given my self an avulsion fracture (if you’re a bit squeamish, look away now). This is where I have sprained my ankle (pulled a ligament) so much, that when the ligament pulled, it ripped a bit of bone off of my foot at the same time. I hasten to add, that it still doesn’t hurt.

(If you are squeamish, you can look back again now) The quacks at the hospital decided that I shouldn’t put any weight on it, so for the first time in my life (that I can remember), I am using crutches. And what pain in the backside they are! Carleen, I can really appreciate your pain now. I am still at camp, although rather obviously, I can’t run rock-climbing any more. I believed that I could still go sailing, as all I have to do is sit in the cockpit. The boss (despite being grossly incompetent) could run around and pull ropes when everything goes wrong.

So my summer isn’t ruined. But wait! This is far too short for a CATCOUK post. That must mean that there is a ‘but’ coming here somewhere.

But… The afore mentioned good health officer won’t let me do anything, until I have seen the Orthopaedic surgeon. Well, it is the sensible thing to do, and I agree with it. It just rubs it in a bit more that I’m not the boss (or at least in position of some influence, like when I’m running an NTC camp). Oh it sucks being me at the moment.

Bill (the camp boss) said at the beginning of the week, that he was getting a golf cart ready for me to use. This is really important to me, as it is a big campsite. It took me one afternoon, 40 minute to get from the lake, to the health lodge, where it used to take me 10 to 15! Oh boy…

Of course that was not the end of my sucky week, oh no. Read the title carefully, and you’ll see that I have only covered half of my criptic title… Avid CATCOUK fans will remember that last week I spoke of the NORO virus (cruise ship virus) that had hit the camp, that we now affectionately call ‘the death’. Unsurprisingly, the camp contracted the virus again this week.

Wednesday night all hell broke loose once again, and we had to refit one of our building to become a M*A*S*H style triage ward. By this time, I had spent a hell of a lot of time in the ‘Health Lodge’ (being that I can’t do any activities), and I had proved useful, I can ask basic triage questions, do paperwork, and sort out the kids medication.

Once the ward was set up, Pat called for me, and asked me to run check in. So from 7 o’clock onwards, I checked it 30 people or so, checked out a few. At this point, we believed the sickness and dehydration was through heat exhaustion, as the effective temperature all day had been 105 F (something like 35 C), and so humid that you could practically swim through camp.

Unfortunately, it was not so. The virus had struck again, and far more quickly than last time. We ended up opening a second ward in another building, and the total number of reported cases on camp rose to 80 over night. At this point, I had still avoided catching the death.

It was about 11.30pm, and admissions were quiet. We were all chatting at one end of the hall. I had been feeling a bit funny all evening, but I assumed it was just because I had been surrounded by people throwing up (I have to digress for a second: my spell check thinks that last sentence should read because people throwing up had surrounded me. Think Shaun of the Dead…) Then without much warning, I turned to a colleague, and said. “Could you please get me a bucket”, and he looked at me blankly, half thinking I was joking, so I prompted with, “Now”.

The bucket arrived just in time. Again, we were still thinking it was just heat exhaustion. The management were leaving us with not enough people to do all the jobs, so even though I had just thrown up, I got up, and hobbled back to admissions, and checked in more people. Apparently the only reason things had quietened down, was because of rain.

Pat cleared me to work on the desk, and I admitted another 10 people or so. I worked as long as I could, until about 1am, and then I admitted myself…

The week was rounded off by what is becoming our traditional camp closure, and mass clean up. It comes to something when you can walk through a forest, and smell bleach in the air. I have to hand it to the camp, our response to the problem, and the clean up operation is very impressive. Here’s hoping for a good week three.

Everyone had to leave this weekend, even myself, and I live 5 500 miles away. Obviously I couldn’t go home, so I went to the next best place. Pat’s partner is British, and lives with her family (also, surprise surprise, British). Pat described their house as a protectorate of the British Isles, and I can see what he meant. I woke up Saturday morning, and the radio in the kitchen was on. I could swear blind that I could hear British voices. Sure enough, it was the BBC! Hurrah.

All the cars that they own are available in Britain (Ford Focus, Audi TT, VW Passat), and Molly (mum) said that they speak English. They use loos, not bathrooms to go to the toilet. It has been really nice spending the weekend in this small part of Britain. There were some complications getting in though. I left my passport with my host troop for safety, so I had trouble getting across the border…

Well, I hope you are all faring better than me, and I hope my beloved Ernie is still well.

If you think that I am the only person in the entire world that could go to America for a once in a lifetime trip, and break my ankle, and therefore am completely stupid, why not leave a comment, starting with the word ‘idiot’.

If you have a broken ankle, and think I should stop whining, why not leave a comment, starting with the word ‘wimp’.

Quote of the Week: ‘So which part of Australia are you from?’ asked Doctor Ed, who thought that I was an Oz, because I used the word ‘mate’.

Song of the Month: Jump In The Line. Harry Belafonte.