10:09 a.m. - 2005-09-28
first day of school
If you didn't know me, you might not believe a lot of the tales I have to tell. Settle down in front of your monitors folks...it's story time with Aunt Jessi.
Yesterday was my first day at an after-school program where I tutor/teach 7th graders-9th graders. I was on the playground explaining to 15 year old D'ashtasha that her profound hatred for Ceorra who is 7 is totally inappropriate.
Suddenly, I hear chaos. I turn around and a teacher is on the ground screaming that one of the kids is having a seizure. I approach the situation. First of all, the teacher has her finger down the girl's throat. this is the EXACT WRONG thing to do. I remove said finger and assess the situation. We are surrounded by children freaking out. I ask the teacher to stop panicking and take the other kids away and tell them everything is going to be ok. The seizure is severe and seemingly endless. I assume that one of the program directors has been alerted by one of the three teachers standing around while I am making sure the little girl who we will call Suzie does not bash her head on the concrete. One of my students goes and gets some medical people from a neighboring office and they come down to help. They observe her for a few minutes and suggest an ambulance be called. At this point, I realize no one is doing anything about this situation besides me. The parents haven't been called. 911 has not been called. I look disparagingly at the girl who is supposed to be in charge and is doing nothing and start telling her what needs to be done. Get her medical file. Call her 911. Call her parents and tell them you have called 911. After she does this I tell her we need to decide what to do if her parents don't arrive before the ambulance. She completely blows me off and walks away. I ask another co worker if he can go and ask the kids that were around her if she began to seize first and then fell or if she fell and then had a seizure and if anyone noticed if she hit her head. I also say to him that we need to decide who is going to go with her. He cuts me off and says "Don't you think you're getting a little ahead of yourself?" I say "Nevermind." And about 15 expletives in my head and ask another teacher to try to get that info. Mind you, the little girl is still convulsing. The ambulance arrives. No parents. I go to the person who is supposed to be in charge and mention again that we need to decide who is going to the hospital. She sighs and says "I guess you can go." Fine. I ask her if she could please go and get my purse from the office and she sighs again and says "I just came from there."
GO. GET. MY. PURSE. PLEASE." I say. She rolls her eyes and goes back to get it.
After five minutes, as the EMTs are backboarding her, her father arrives. He is anxious and nervous and refuses to approach his child. He gets on his cell phone. I interrupt him and suggest he reassure his daughter who is just beginning to be slightly aware and he waves me away. The medics wheel her toward the ambulance when the grandmother arrives. This woman was completely hysterical. 100% out of control. Screaming. Sobbing. Shrieking. Again, no one has approached the little girl. She is lifted into the ambulance. I go over to the family and gently suggest one of them ride with her.
The father shakes his head and says "We're too upset right now."
My eyes nearly pop out of my head. But I say "OK, one of us will go."
I retrieve my purse from the unhelpful, attitude girl and into the ambulance I go. I'd never been in one before. The EMTs take BP readings and test glucose levels, then one of them hops into the drivers seat and off we go, lights on, siren blaring, weaving in and out of traffic.
First, the stretcher starts sliding around. The EMT ignores this and is on his cell pohone with the hospital. I hold the wheels steady with my feet and look at him questioningly. He gives me a nod. OK, I'm holding the stretcher still...and trying to dig through 20+ pages of personal informaiton in her file, none of which is relavent, until I find tghe crumpled medical form buried in the pile. I give the sparse info we have...only that she is hyperactive and takes a small dose of a common ADHD drug. We go around a bend and a heavy clipboard goes flying off a shelf ONTO Suzie, narrowly missing her face. I uneasily set it on the floor and hope that no syringes are going to go flying anywhere like into my occular cavity.
A moment later, the EMT hands me this oxygen mask and tells me to pout it on her and hold it on her face. Ummm...why am I needed to help in this situation? But ok. Sure. Why not. A few minutes later, I have this instinct to remove the mask just in time for Suzie to projectile vomit everywhere. Four times.
"Looks like it's probably a significant head injury," says the EMT. Great.
He looks up and out the back window and sees that the family is following us through rush hour traffic as we weave in and out and go through red lights. "That's not safe." he says. He has the driver pull over, get out and tell the family they may not follow us. I can only imagine how that went over.
We arrive at the hospital. A dozen medical folks rush over and steer her into the building and down the hallway. The family members, all smoking cigarettes, run up to the entrance, take final puffs, stamp out their smokes and go into the hospital. I follow, not really sure if I should, and try to stay out of the way.
The emergency room was pretty intense. A whole bunch of people doing all of that stuff they do on E.R., demanding however many "cc's" of this and that and reading "BP" moniters and whatnot. As she stabilized, the social worker came and asked the family questions, during which the grandmother insulted her at least twice and yelled at her once, using the f-word. I tried hard to look like I was not associated with them because it was so embarrassing. Then the grandmother began rattling off medical informaiton, none of whihc we have on record. Various "conditions" and various medications we have no info on. Great. Great, Folks. Send your 6 year old to an after school program 25 hours per week and don't inform the people responsible for her of her various medical complications. Awesome.
I decide after about 45 minutes that there is no point in me sticking around. I call Amanda, the hero of the day, who came and picked me up and took me all of the way back to the center to get my vehicle. After I have secured a way back, I call the center and the unhelpful Attitude girl to let her know what's going on. She basically blows me off again and I realize that she probably hasn't made any of the neccesary calls to the director and assistant director. Feeling totally frustrated and totally drained from being apparently the only person whose neurons are functioning, I wearily tell her it is really important that she do that right away. As I say goodbye she says "Thanks for checking in." THANKS FOR CHECKING IN??? Like I was on a planned field trip down the street?
Amanda came and got me. We went and got my dad's truck, which is what I drove yesterday, went to my parents' house to switch cars, told my parents the saga, and proceeded directly to a bar near our apartment for some hefty portions of Hefeweitzen with lots of lemons.
I did mention this was my first day, right?
No news on the kid. Various meetings are scheduled for this afternoon where I hope to have the self-restraint to give grace to the people who I work with who are utterly incompetant and have some serious priority issues. I am tired.
