Visine eye drops. Tums antacid taken in megadoses. Hair clipper oil. A foam rubber tomahawk.

During Sheri Webster's 12-year stint as a nurse and toxicologist at the Georgia Poison Center, she has fielded calls from panicked parents who turned their backs for seconds, only to find their child munching on the foam of a Braves tomahawk (non-toxic) or downing a bottle of eye drops (very toxic).

While the foam-rubber appetizer query was a first for Webster, it isn't unusual for the seasoned nurse to field any number of calls regarding hazards to toddlers, pets and absent-minded people who ingest a substance without checking the label.

Last year, Webster and her colleagues took more than 91,300 calls at the Georgia Poison Center, making it the second-busiest in the United States. Worried parents calling about what their child may have ingested represent about 80 percent of all calls, she said. Typically, the poison center's number (1-800-222-1222) is on new parents' speed dial.

A former pediatric ER nurse and a certified specialist for poison information (one of just 1,400 in the nation), Webster is well-versed in toxicology and consults with the staff pharmacists regularly. She typically answers questions from panicked parents and pet owners as well as emergency-room physicians and nurses throughout the state who call for consultations.

She is part investigative detective, part counselor and full-time nurse as she tries to calm frantic people and find out what was ingested, how much of it was swallowed and what the symptoms are.

Often, she stays on the phone with the worried caller while emergency medical workers are dispatched. And she always leaves her name as a person who may be called again, if needed. Webster was on the front line of a 1999 anthrax scare at Colony Square Hotel in Midtown when a suspicious package was delivered to a local office of NBC News.

"We had a lot of calls and almost had to put extra people on the phone," Webster said.

Many worried people called the center with questions about how anthrax spreads and what they should do to if they are in contact with it, she said. The poison center is now integrated into the state's emergency command center in an effort to coordinate bioterrorism efforts.

Housed in the basement of Hughes Spalding Children's Hospital, the center is staffed by nurses and pharmacists 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Dr. Bob Geller, an associate professor of pediatrics at Hughes Spalding, is medical director of the center.

Every call is answered by a person, not a computer, Webster said. "We get all types of calls, some of them from parents who panic for no reason."

Webster is there to calm them down. Typically, the volume of calls comes in seasonal waves: during Thanksgiving and Christmas, the number of calls related to raw turkey and mistletoe rises; during spring and summer months, it's usually spider, insect and reptile identification time for the poison center staff.

Year-round, Webster takes her share of potential suicide calls from individuals who overdose on acetaminophen.

"There are a lot of hurting people who don't really want to commit suicide but want help - they don't realize their liver is being slammed with a toxin" (when they overdose on the OTC drug), Webster said.

Besides a stomach pump, there is a required three-day hospitalization and an antidote regimen to ward off liver failure; sometimes they don't survive the ordeal.

Webster loves helping people, and over the years has learned a lot in her job. "You are not just sitting answering the phone. There's regular study research and development. Drugs are changing all the time," she said.