The Exhausted Dad: Hearsay about summer camp and pink eye
Not all the most interesting parenting stories happen to me.
While my wife and I share many parenting adventures, sometimes we face challenges alone.
Having four kids exacerbates the problem, as we’re often forced to split up to manage the busy schedule of adolescent extracurriculars. It means one parent occasionally misses something fun. But it also provides the chance of dodging unforeseen misery.
My wife ended up being the one who dealt with our youngest daughter’s brief banishment from a weeklong summer camp. My wife drove back and forth to my daughters' Girl Scout camp three times in a 24-hour period. I got to stay home and watch cartoons with the boys. Typical lazy day, amirite?
On the day of arrival, both our girls, ages 9 and 13, felt incredibly nervous about their weeklong overnight camp. They couldn’t wait for all the fun activities, but they also didn’t want to sleep away from the luxury of their own bedroom.
Our 9-year-old has had one sleepover at a friend’s house. One. Otherwise, she’s never slept outside our house without us.
Still, we assumed she’d quickly adapt, make a few new friends and have an absolute blast. After she made it through the first night, we thought it’d be smooth sailing the rest of the week.
Well, we made it through the first night without a call from camp. But they called at 6 p.m. the next day.
Both my wife and I technically missed the call (we called back within 10 minutes!). As millennials, we both often forget to take our phones out of silent mode.
The voice message from the camp nurse laid out the situation well:
“I’m here with your daughter, and she’s been complaining about her eyes being itchy. One is pink with some discharge and … well, if you could please give us a call as soon as possible.”
You never want to receive a phone call about pink eye.
My wife and I knew exactly what was happening. Our daughter, not generally a fan of regular outdoor activity, suffers from significant allergies, particularly on a warm summer day following a rainy evening. High pollen count equals itchy eyes. And, let me tell ya, she can’t resist rubbing them over and over again until they’re bright pink and full of tears.
We told the nurse over the phone: “If her eyes are itchy from allergies, she’s going to rub them until they’re pink.”
Understandably, a camp with more than 100 kids in attendance can’t risk the chance of a rapidly-spreading pink eye infection.
The nurse told us, “If she goes to the doctor and they determine that it’s not bacterial or viral pink eye, then she can come back with a note.”
At 6:15 p.m., our options to see a doctor that night were limited to urgent care (closes at 8 p.m.) or the emergency room (and we definitely weren’t taking our kid to the ER for seasonal allergies).
Thanks to our youngest son being in a bit of a “Dad" period, I got to stay home with the boys. My wife, meanwhile, drove 45 minutes to the camp, picked up our daughter (and all her gear, in the event that she couldn’t return) and drove her as fast as she could to the nearest urgent care before they closed.
I tried to help. Honest. I called urgent care and offered to do the check-in procedure prior to their arrival, on the very real possibility that they don’t quite make it before 8 p.m.
The receptionist’s response: “It’s a walk-in clinic. We lock the doors right at 8 p.m.”
Well, my wife and daughter made it there just a few minutes before 8 p.m. According to the account told to me, the check-in process took several minutes and the receptionist ended up staying way later than 8 p.m. to finish it. I tried to help!
The doctor took a good look at my daughter’s eyes.
The doc: “Oh, that’s allergies. They actually don’t look too bad.”
My daughter confirmed: “They felt way better after I went inside.”
After hearing the good news, I called the camp and told them that after a stop at the pharmacy for some allergy eye drops, my daughter would be returning to camp that evening.
“Um, OK,” the camp counselor said tepidly. “We do close the gate soon, so hopefully she can get here in the next 30 minutes.”
When I told my wife this detail, she said, “Oh they’re taking her back into the camp even if I have to walk her in past the gate myself.”
So my wife drove her back to camp. Then drove home well after dark. How’s that for a Monday evening after a full day of work?
The rest of the camp continued without incident. The eye drops apparently helped immensely. I asked my wife how she felt about all the driving … essentially for nothing more than allergies.
She reminded me of what she saw when she first picked her up that evening to take her to urgent care.
“She was bawling because she thought for sure that she wouldn’t get to go back to camp. She was having an absolute blast and was devastated there was a chance she’d miss out on the rest.”
Misery in the moment? Sure. But the result was a 9-year-old’s unforgettable summer memory. Probably worth the misery.
I mean, I assume, anyway. I was watching cartoons.
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Tyler Wilson is a freelance writer, full-time student and parent to four kids, ages 7-13. He is tired, but, this week, not quite as tired as his wife.
The Exhausted Dad