Job is a crybaby. I don't want to sound mean, but the kid literally cries at the drop of a hat. He will cry for days straight before I leave or before his favorite American friends leave, and man, does he ever cry when he gets hurt! It seemed like all I was ever doing for Job was bandaging up his cuts and scrapes and then hugging him while he cried it out. So my Christmas present to him: his own first aid kit, fully equipped with band aids, cold packs, neosporin, ace bandages, and tweezers.
Overnight, Job was transformed. He still cries easily, but his horror at bloody wounds has turned into a fascination and a sense of duty. Whenever one of the boys got hurt while I was there, Job would appear at my side instantly and watch wide-eyed as I cared for the injury. I decided to foster his interest and give him assignments.
TiJude badly sprained his finger playing basketball the day before I left for my week outing to the clinics. I called Job to accompany me and TiJude up to my room. Together, we iced the sore finger and then splinted it to the next finger. I worked with Job, showing him how to apply the splint and then gave him supplies so that he could take care of it while I was gone. The day that I got back to the orphanage, Job and TiJude came running up to me.
"Look, Keziah!" Job pointed excitedly. "I fixed TiJude's finger!"
TiJude held up his little finger which was still a bit crooked, but much less swollen and fully functional. It was hard to tell who was more proud: me, Job or TiJude. (I don't really know why TiJude would be proud; maybe he just felt special for having been made much of by Job all week).
Stev was our next victim. He got a few open sores on his legs that needed neosporin and band aids. Of course, the best time of day to apply those is just before bed, otherwise, they just come off as the children play or when they bathe. Again, I turned to my assistant. "Of course I'll do it!" Job replied eagerly. So I showed him how to wash the sores, put on the ointment and then cover them with a band aid and Job did it each evening until the sores closed.
We were getting ready to go to Bataillon and I didn't see Reginald anywhere, so I went downstairs and sure enough, he was asleep on his bunk. Reginald has a tendency to lag behind when we go out and I have several times had to wait a full 5 minutes for him after the other boys have already left. I asked Manno if Reginald was sick and when he said no, I advised him to go hurry the boy out of his room so we could all leave together.
As we walked down the hill, I noticed the boys giving me strange glances. We got to the bottom and I saw that Reginald had an open cut and a big bump just above his eye. I immediately approached him to see if he needed it taken care of but he gave me a look that said "Drop dead, you fiend!" and ran away. I was totally perplexed until Drisk explained it. "He ran into a wall and hurt his head. He wasn't supposed to have to come to Bataillon because he was hurt but you made him come, so he's ticked."
It was a few days before I could convince Reginald that I had been unaware of his injury and that if I had known, I would never have made him come. And even when he did accept my explanation and apology, he was still a bit wary around me for a day or two. During that time, it was again Dokte Job who put the neosporin and the band aid on Reginald's head.
I have always thought that Fabiola and Argentine were the ones that I would take on internships to my clinic, but maybe I will have to change my plans...