Sick Kids

I work at a summer camp as an "Operations Coordinator." I coordinate the operations... basically I print stuff and solve people's professional and personal problems. This morning, for example, I facilitated a little conflict resolution regarding a mishap on the Wall Ball court. Also this morning, had a kid hanging out in here because he had a migraine. After a good half hour of rest (on a makeshift gurney fashioned from wooden kids' chairs), he went back to his class, seemingly in better spirits. This afternoon, though, he returned with an instructor who reported that he was looking pretty woozy and pathetic, and that he said he might throw up. This leads me to today's topic...

How do you know when a kid is actually sick? Because when this kid walked into the office for the second time today, here are the things that ran through my head:

• This kid is super dramatic. My previous interactions with him give me no reason to take him seriously.
• When he was here for a "migraine" this morning, when another kid came in, he was chatting it up... in a way that made me think he forgot he was supposed to be sick.
  
• When he left the room earlier, he was extremely excited to see his friends wherever he was going next.

All these things add up to the obvious conclusion that this kid is probably not sick, right? So when he comes back in looking all pathetic, I just gave him a plastic bag and a cup of water and told him to sit down. So then he starts spitting in the plastic bag. And now I'm grossed out. And I wish he would stop spitting and go to class and stop pretending to be sick. In fact, I send my sister a text message to the effect of, "Kids put in a lot of work to pretend to be sick." Not five minutes after I type this, the kid throws up. A lot. In the plastic bag, but still. I start calling his mom. Then I try to get him to pick up the bag to move to the bathroom. No luck. His mom did not answer the phone so I try a new number. Then I try to pick up the plastic bag to put into a trash can which I have now moved next to him. He lets go of the bag and it almost spills into his lap. Then I almost throw up.

Then another kid comes in requesting an ice pack. I assume this kid is also being dramatic and instead focus on speaking to Kid #1's mom and throwing away vomit in the dumpster. When I return to the drama-ridden office, I discover that Kid #2 has actually separated his shoulder playing outside. Incidentally, there are no more ice packs because all six have been used by kids with fake injuries earlier today. (Although now I'm not so sure if they were fake injuries?) So I spent the rest of the day making new ice packs out of paper towels, water, and Ziploc bags. On Tuesday when these kids come back, I'll be ready to face all the problems that can be fixed with ice packs... from bruises to bruised egos.