Camp Infirmary 2011: Alicia

You know how you feel when you meet that special friend who just makes you happy?  When you find someone that says something that makes you laugh so hard your sides hurt?  That someone who understands all of your frustrations and lets you know that you aren't crazy?  Seriously, that kind of person comes along once in a blue moon, but when I find them, I'm so thankful.

When I stopped by the infirmary after my shift today, I wanted to take Alicia outside, in the beautiful Interlochen wilderness, and take a photo of her, just for this blog post.  However, she had other plans, and this photo helps me describe her (because there really aren't words that will do her justice):

Alicia isn't a secretary at all, but she decided to play one for this picture.  I had two crazy shots of her with two of her crazy faces, but she made me delete them.  I'm surprised I got her to look "normal" at all, although the smile is always there (well, except when she's imitating people who make my life difficult).

Alicia is four months away from becoming a registered nurse.  She is great with the kids, she knows her stuff, and she's fun to be around.  When I needed my allergy injections, I chose her over any of the nurses in the infirmary, not only because I trust her and she's my friend, but because she's had a lot of experience with needles.  A LOT of experience.  One nurse in particular didn't like this choice at all, but I couldn't think of anyone better.

Alicia is diabetic.  Although she doesn't ever let that define her, or how she lives her life, I find that the way she handles it is a testament to who she is.

Doctors believe that a very bad case of chicken pox when she was young led to her diabetes.  It doesn't run in her family, and even though both of her siblings had chicken pox too, her outcome wasn't ideal.  Can you even imagine?  Having a child who has to monitor every piece of food eaten, who has to take blood sugar levels throughout the day at school, who has to inject herself with insulin?  When Alicia was very matter-of-factly telling me her story, tears came to my eyes (and do so again as I write).  Childhood is hard enough, don't you think?  What a burden to have as a child.

I have been around some diabetic kids over the last few years and they usually carry one of two feelings:  denial (and consequently their diabetes isn't managed well), and anger (which makes them not very pleasant to be around).  Alicia hopes to someday work with kids and teach diabetes management to them, and I couldn't think of a better example.

She never stops smiling, except when she's laughing.  When she has every reason in the world to be angry and to feel cheated, she is not only happy but she makes everyone else happy.  Although I've only known her for a few weeks,  I absolutely adore her.

Here are a few of my memories of her that won't mean anything to you, but will make me laugh again when I read and reread this list:

• a Hello Kitty juice box stuck between two nurses having a discussion
• the annihilation of my pride, playing Mancala with her
• telling me she almost peed her pants in a text
• middle aged boys (who buy cars they can't drive yet)
• showing her a good-old Italian accent
• seeing her reaction on the phone as a parent told her the same story five times in a row
• finding her notes the following morning, apologizing for not leaving everything on the desk perfect
• making fun of her very Michigan accent (you can have a paaaaass to claaaaaass)
• reading her wish list and wiping away tears because I'm laughing so hard--leather chaps, and a clock set to New Zealand time.  Really? :-)

Beyond making me laugh, Alicia has provided some relief in what is proving to be a very stressful situation at work.  She proved tonight that she's got my back, calling out a crazy woman who was talking badly about me.  Oh my goodness, THANK YOU, ALICIA!!  She's only like 20 years old, and yet she has the maturity (and the courage) of someone much older.  

Have I said how much I love her?  Thank you, Alicia, for being my friend.