M.O.N. (Mean Old Nurse)

Working as a middle school nurse for many (many) years, I’ve come to expect that quite a few—or maybe even more than a few—of the young visitors who come to my office don’t actually want the services I have to offer.  Based on my assessment, they can finish their school day with a cough drop, or a Tylenol.  And, yes, I make loads of phone calls to parents just to inform them that I’ve seen their child and they might want to recheck their child’s temp that evening as, of course, things do progress.  But, for now, I send the student “BTC” (back to class). 

It does not make me popular….

…because it was not the “help” they were hoping for or expecting.  Ah, growing up is hard to do, as I check the child’s throat while fighting back my own migraine, or offering the good old staple of Saltine crackers while hiding my own stash at my desk after taking a couple of Tums that morning myself.  Life is not always as we would want it, kid; let me “help” you start figuring that out now.

Again, not exactly the help they