A crash landing on the nose

I just posted a relatively lengthy report on my jam-packed two weeks of counseling at a camp. If you have any desire to hear about it, you should definitely at least skim it even though I'm immediately posting something else. However, in case my camp experience as a whole doesn't interest you and you'd rather hear about one single adventure (that you may have already gotten whiff of) that I had, this is probably what you'd better read.

I still can't quite believe I did it. I have always been a safe sort of girl. Skiing and snowboarding have never held much appeal for me so I haven't had the privilege of breaking a bone in that manner (did you know that while skiing every bone in the human body has been broken by somebody except a bone in the inner ear? So I've heard), I never played a regular sport, and even though I believe some aggressiveness is good in sports I've always been pretty careful to stay out of the way when there's a Shawn-Bobby-Dave-Ben collision inevitable in ultimate Frisbee. I've never had a bloody nose, and I've never been to the doctor for anything except ear infections and a physical. So if you're a cautious person who has never tasted an injury of any kind and is longing for the experience, let me instruct you in one easy lesson.

Have a thirteen year old kid who weighs more than you do make a crash landing on your nose with his elbow. Things should start to get interesting after that.

We were short handed that day. We had a lot of kids to get through the popular high ropes course and only so many leaders to supervise them. We divided our outdoor adventure group in half and told one half they could wait to go on the high ropes course. The other group could practice and kill time on the low ropes course. Oh wait. We don't have anybody to supervise the low ropes course. I volunteered--I didn't know how to be an "anchor" on the other course anyway, and I did know enough about the low course to instruct people. Besides, I've been pretty successful at catching people too. I suspect that I shouldn't have been the only "adult" present, but as circumstances would have it, we didn't have much choice. So I proceeded to make sure kids played safe at the edge of the woods about seventy-five yards or so away from everyone else. I should have exerted my authority more and had somebody else help me catch people, but it wouldn't have made much of a difference anyway.

So yes. I already told you what happened. One second I'm encouraging a boy through a tricky bit of rope about four feet off the ground, ready to steady him and snatch him if he should make good use of the law of gravity. He tottered, and I saw a flash of elbow or something hard (one boy watching told me he thought it was a foot but I doubt it) and then I heard a crunch. Oooh, what a musical crunch! Next thing I knew, blood started streaming out my nose. I couldn't remember what you were supposed to do with a bloody nose. Were you supposed to put your head forward or back? One guy (I think it was the KJB guy, for those of you who read my other post) told me to pinch my nose and keep my head straight. I obeyed and made a bee line for the main campus where the nurse was. I don't do well with blood, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I started to faint. I had to get to the nurse before then. Unfortunately, the nurse wasn't exactly in calling distance, and there weren't any other adults nearby to inform I was leaving. There wasn't time for that.

Down, down, down the long steep hill I went. Blood missed my cupped hands and splattered onto my beloved Fairwood Bible Institute shirt, but that was kind of low on my priority list of worries right then. By the time I reached the bottom of the hill (this is almost like a Catskill mountain we're talking about here) my hands were full to overflowing with bright red liquid, and I absently emptied one of them onto the grass and kept going, trying to remain calm. Through a clearing, past the whiffle ball field, past the volleyball court and soccer field, across the street, across the lawn to "the Ark" (this distance might have been comparable to walking from Fairview to the Main House). Thankfully one of the girl counselors, Jen (not the Belle one), was sitting on the porch visiting with her mother who had stopped by.

Speaking as casually as possible, I asked, "Um, what's the best way to get a hold of the nurse?" Considering that by now my hands and wrists were dripping, my shirt and shorts were pretty much smeared, and my legs and sneakers were considerably speckled, I must have been quite a sight. Jen practically leaped out of her rocking chair and said she'd get the nurse (who was in the middle of the building in the basement--not very accessible for a person in my condition) while her mother encouraged me to sit down.

I don't know how long I sat there. Gauze, wash cloths, and ice were brought as we waited for the blood to slow down. Soon after I sat down I recognized my fainting symptoms and gradually I watched the world get grayish black. People walked by or stood around but I couldn't see their faces. Some girl going by gasped and said, "OMG! Kayla, are you okay?" I didn't even know who it was. I held something to my nose and kept breathing, "Lord help me," while the words from Psalm 56:3 raced through my mind again and again, "When I am afraid, I will put my trust in God." I didn't think anything was seriously wrong with me, but it took willpower--no, trust to remain calm and maintain my sanity and poise. Somebody got me a cup of water and a large can so I could spit out all the blood that was in my mouth and that I had been swallowing. I waited. Things cleared up pretty soon, and at this point I think I was able to crack a feeble joke about my condition. Somebody told me that I'd make a great a Halloween character right then. No small wonder. I probably had blood coming from my nose and my mouth, not to mention that it was kind of all over the rest of me, even in my hair (it was fun to pick out the clots at the ends of my braids later). I was able to distinguish faces, including the nurse, Jen, her mom, a politely concerned life guard I had never officially met (but he kindly hosed down the porch after I left, so I'm told), and Will, a friend of the Reeds who has been to Fairwood and who also works there as a life guard.

The women helped me inside and downstairs to the infirmary where my bleeding resumed and I lay for awhile waiting for it to stop. After seeing that I was settled, Jen and her mother prepared to leave, and it was then that I remembered and felt some remorse for leaving kids unsupervised at the low ropes course. So I communicated that to Jen with my apologies, and it was at this point that I started to cry. Blast it! Oh well, I'm not so silly as to think crying is really stupid. A person's got to let loose some how, I guess, and God invented crying as the perfect avenue to vent. I told Jen I was fine though and didn't know why I was crying (I WAS fine; the worst was over, so why do tears have to kick in so late?) and she assured me that she would look into it.

So I waited. I waited for my bleeding to stop. I waited until I didn't cough up quite so much blood. I waited as the nurse gently cleaned me up like a baby who'd been caught playing the mud. This mud was even redder than Georgia's though, I'll tell ya. Fingers, hands, wrists, face, legs. Honestly, I've never seen so much blood in my life, but I realize that's not saying a whole lot. I lay alone for awhile and decided that singing was my best medicine. So I sang, or literally squeaked, out a number of songs: "He's Always Been Faithful," "Great is Thy Faithfulness," "Be Still and Know that I am God," "God is so Good," and the chorus to "Redemption," being a few of the pieces I tried. Faith and truth expressed in song is often the most beneficial. I had felt to resist the devil in our leaders meeting that morning and then this had happened. But I was not so easily defeated.

Eventually, I prepared to leave for the ER with my dad. The nurse had asked Sam, my co-counselor, to bring me some clothes to change into, and the dear girl had willingly done so. The only thing was that the shirt she brought me was actually my night shirt and I didn't have the heart to tell her. Besides, when it came right down to it, there was a certain appeal to going to the ER in my bloody clothes. I mean, come on! What's the point of going to the ER if you don't look like you have a reason for being there? My clothes certainly made me look legit, so I decided to keep them on. I was going to wear my stained FBI shirt with honor. I will admit though that when my dad wanted to stop at the grocery store to pick up medications I refused to go in. It's one thing to arrive at the hospital looking like a battle-scarred warrior, but at a grocery store I would look just plain unappetizing.

To sum it all up, I found out that my nose is broken. I had x-rays taken, and when the doctor came in to ask me if I wanted to see them he didn't even tell me that my nose was broken. All he said was, "Do you want to see a picture of your broken nose?" He didn't try to "break" it to me. Ahh, great. Sure! At least with it broken I have a reason for bleeding so much and seeming wimpy.

As I headed back to camp (there was no way I was going home to give up and recover!), I prayed that God would use the accident, hopefully to affect my ministry at the camp. I can say that it certainly helped me to trust God (now I know that I know how to look to Him in the midst of my first mini medical crisis!), and though I'm not actually aware it affected my ministry, it certainly was a good conversation starter. Either people saw me with ice on my nose or word had spread that I had had a bloody nose that morning, and I was able to cheerfully tell them that I had broken my nose! Once the worst was over I found ways to be happy about it. Of course, there were unpleasant aspects of it besides the obvious pain: I felt like I had a headache only it was on my face (I'll be honest--I don't remember the initial break actually being very painful--the blood was way more distracting), I had to do things like chew, smile, and scratch itches very gingerly, and then there was the fact that I had kind of had to walk all the way to the nurse's building all by myself feeling like nobody really noticed or cared. Most people had no idea what had happened; not that it really mattered. I reminded myself over and over again that God was good. I believed it, but it did take some faith. And then that night I got about nine or ten texts from friends who all encouraged me and told me they were praying for me! I don't even have a phone; I had my mom's, so it was especially neat that they were all texting me (Craig was behind telling people, as I suspected and later found out). Believing that God was good got a whole lot easier then.

That being said, I got a lot of support from people at camp as well as away from camp. One lady counselor (from the Bible Church), prayed for me right as we were heading to chapel. Another girl counselor right afterwards walked up and gave me a hug even though she had no idea what had happened that day. People, campers and counselors alike, asked me how I was and sometimes told me they had prayed for me. Many asked me how it had happened. One of my campers told me that she had heard that I'd run into a tree. Haha. Wow . . . talk about rumors. I asked her who had told her that and she insisted that one of the other girls in our cabin had told her, and they in turn insisted that she had made it up. Anyway, I don't really know if my broken nose affected my ministry or not, but at least I was able to talk a little more with some people and communicate some of my joy and faith in God's goodness in spite of it all.

Oh, and the boy who fell on me is just fine, and I'm very glad for it. I would have felt a lot worse if HE had broken his nose when I was the one responsible for him.

Some of you may be wondering if you can tell if I broke my nose. Well, actually, you probably can't. For a few days I was a little swollen; my glasses didn't fit me right, and I was pretty sore (though the constant pain was gone after the first day). After a day or two I bruised under both my eyes and some on my eye lids. Other than that, most people when they look at me are surprised when I tell them that my nose is broken, and I have to tell them that the x-rays proved it. The doctor told me that perhaps the only sign will be that a part of my nose might get a tiny bit more prominent, and probably only people who know me well MIGHT be able to tell.

I also had a follow up appointment yesterday with the nose, ears, and mouth specialist. And I gotta tell ya, I felt blessedly out of place as I sat in that waiting room! One man had a huge bandage on his neck while one guy had a huge bandage on his face over his nose (he got taken in almost right away, accompanied by two people who presumably were both his parents), and my mom even thought she saw somebody missing an ear but she wasn't sure. After peering at my face, kneading my nose for a bit (some of which was quite painful, even though overall I'm not quite so tender as I was), and finally looking UP my nose with a special tool, the doctor told me I was "very lucky." Apparently it's not always common for one's nose to straighten itself out without being set, and my nose had done just that. He said all we had to do was let "Mother Nature" do her thing. I should have told him that a lot of people had been praying for me. Let him put that in his pipe and smoke it.

So yes, that's my pretty much my adventure of the month! And adventure indeed it was. It was my first bloody nose, first broken bone, and first trip to the ER! A little traumatic, but relatively unscathing. And God was faithful through it all. I am very thankful.