Head, shoulders, knees and toes; wherever it hurts is where the ice goes. The other day I was at home, not paying attention to where I was going and slammed my knee into a cabinet door. The air escaped my lungs, very nearly followed by a colorful exclamation. As I limped around my house for the next ten minutes I thought about all the times in a day I hand out ice packs. From 10-10:30 and 12-1:00 it sometimes feels like an endless stream of injuries. I really should be counting the number of times in a day I walk back and forth to the fridge in the faculty room. My Fitbit broke months ago, but I’m sure those trips are a huge contributor to the 7,000 steps I usually average in a workday. Granted, it’s only about 30 steps round trip, but repeat it 10 times a day and it adds up!
My favorite is when the Kindergarteners come for ice. Every injury is so monumental and of course, ice is the universal fix. No bump, no blood, no bruise, but I still want ice. It’s almost psychosomatic. And the ice helps, until they find out they can’t take it outside. No, they have to sit by their lonesome and just hold it. I always tell them they can sit as long as they want and when they feel better they just bring the ice back to me and go back outside. Some stay and watch the giants pass them by, their little feet swinging in the chair. Others last less than a minute before I hear their little voice, “I feel better now.” It’s so boring outside the office. They’d much rather be outside with their friends.
I remember once I saw two third graders holding hands, giggling as they pranced down the hallway to the office. They seemed so full of joy and delight. They walked into the office and proudly pronounced, “We BOTH need ice packs!” Of course this exclamation is followed quickly, and in succession with a very specific rundown of how, when, where and with whom their injury occurred. It’s quite overwhelming to try to listen to both stories at once. It didn’t take me long to realize, this wasn’t a dire medical situation. This was a field trip. A special group outing just for the two of them. I’d fallen for it before. I knew I could give them their ice packs and they’d sit outside the office by the prayer table for the next ten minutes. The gabfest would continue and they’d pull anyone who walked by them into it. So I learned. If they come in a group and they giggle through their story, they’re probably here for the novelty, not the injury.
So back to my limp. It took a little while for the pain to completely subside but once it did, I wondered, at what age do we stop automatically reaching for ice after every bump? There must come a time when we just decide to tough out the minor ailments. I never even thought about keeping ice for injuries until I became a teacher and suddenly it was a necessity. These days, I’m more likely to reach for ice for a tired back than for a bruised knee. Perhaps that’s the switch; when we’re little we want ice for small injuries, but then it becomes more about managing chronic pain. Maybe I'll share stories of aging and chronic pain with the next ice pack field trippers. I bet that'll get them back to class quickly!