Anne TootillTo Be or Not To Be a Mother -Part Three
May 22nd 2007 16:43
The nurse took me into an examination room and told me to put on a paper gown. A few minutes later the doctor came in and started talking about his book. He didn’t even look at me or ask any questions all he did was go on and on about the book he’d written (and that was about to be published).
After about ten minutes I knew all about his book but he knew nothing about my burns. I could see the nurse rolling her eyes behind his back but as usual I said nothing. I never said one word to try to get him to notice me, not once as he went on and on and on about all his amazing credentials. All I did was sit there and listen like I was supposed to. Because who was I? Nothing but a housewife and mother. But he was a doctor who had all these letters after his name. And he was about to be published. So I sat there and felt like I always did. Like I counted less. And I acted impressed by him. Which I was. The truth was that anyone and everyone who wasn’t me was more impressive in my eyes. So I said nothing. And I waited to be noticed.
When at last he did come over to look at my burns this is what he said, “you have deep second and third degree burns on your face, your neck, your breast and your leg.” Then he took a longer look at my face and added, “the ones on your face are going to scar the worst and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
I tried not to cry. “Are you sure?” I asked. “Isn’t there anything I can do?” He could see I was upset but there was not an ounce of compassion in his eyes or his voice as he replied, “of course I’m sure. I’ve written a book on this.”
It was hard to hear the rest of what he said but he told me that in order to stop infection, which would make the scarring worse, I’d have to scrub each burn raw three times a day. I’d have to use a clean cloth and scrub the area until it bled to keep it clean. “And the pain is going to be excruciating,” he told me.
It was so hard not to cry but I knew I wasn’t allowed to bother him with my tears so I didn’t. I did ask if there was anything I could take to help with the pain. He told me no and that I should stop whining like a baby. I could see the nurse trying not to look me in the eye but I still couldn’t bring myself to say anything to this horrible man. Then he told me about another patient he’d had. A woman that had dropped a turkey (as it turns out the foil pans were dangerous to remove from the oven) when she was taking it out of the oven and how she’d burned both her legs and how she’d scrubbed them both with a wire whisk to keep them from becoming infected. And she took no pain medication. And she never once complained.
Then he told me to make a follow-up appointment, reminded me of the title of his book (which I must read because of my burns) and he left, the nurse hurrying out after him.
I paid my bill, got into my car and I cried and I cried. I wasn’t a religious person, I didn’t
even know if I believed in God, but in that moment I prayed. “Please, please if something has to scar, please just don’t let it be the face.”
Then I took a deep breath, wiped the tears from my eyes and I drove home to go take care of the kids.
After about ten minutes I knew all about his book but he knew nothing about my burns. I could see the nurse rolling her eyes behind his back but as usual I said nothing. I never said one word to try to get him to notice me, not once as he went on and on and on about all his amazing credentials. All I did was sit there and listen like I was supposed to. Because who was I? Nothing but a housewife and mother. But he was a doctor who had all these letters after his name. And he was about to be published. So I sat there and felt like I always did. Like I counted less. And I acted impressed by him. Which I was. The truth was that anyone and everyone who wasn’t me was more impressive in my eyes. So I said nothing. And I waited to be noticed.
When at last he did come over to look at my burns this is what he said, “you have deep second and third degree burns on your face, your neck, your breast and your leg.” Then he took a longer look at my face and added, “the ones on your face are going to scar the worst and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
I tried not to cry. “Are you sure?” I asked. “Isn’t there anything I can do?” He could see I was upset but there was not an ounce of compassion in his eyes or his voice as he replied, “of course I’m sure. I’ve written a book on this.”
It was hard to hear the rest of what he said but he told me that in order to stop infection, which would make the scarring worse, I’d have to scrub each burn raw three times a day. I’d have to use a clean cloth and scrub the area until it bled to keep it clean. “And the pain is going to be excruciating,” he told me.
It was so hard not to cry but I knew I wasn’t allowed to bother him with my tears so I didn’t. I did ask if there was anything I could take to help with the pain. He told me no and that I should stop whining like a baby. I could see the nurse trying not to look me in the eye but I still couldn’t bring myself to say anything to this horrible man. Then he told me about another patient he’d had. A woman that had dropped a turkey (as it turns out the foil pans were dangerous to remove from the oven) when she was taking it out of the oven and how she’d burned both her legs and how she’d scrubbed them both with a wire whisk to keep them from becoming infected. And she took no pain medication. And she never once complained.
Then he told me to make a follow-up appointment, reminded me of the title of his book (which I must read because of my burns) and he left, the nurse hurrying out after him.
I paid my bill, got into my car and I cried and I cried. I wasn’t a religious person, I didn’t
even know if I believed in God, but in that moment I prayed. “Please, please if something has to scar, please just don’t let it be the face.”
Then I took a deep breath, wiped the tears from my eyes and I drove home to go take care of the kids.
| 71 |
| Vote |
Subscribe to this blog
Comment by Ahmed
techy.Bytes
Video Gamer Kids
Little Green Foosballs
PolyKicks
Qwerk
Cinema Three
Comment by charliesgirl_992000
Histeries, Mysteries and what not
Lifes little slices
Mystical Creativity
Tammy
Comment by Tracy
Movies and Life
Tracy
Comment by Kleonaptra
Kalikapsychosis
My whole life Ive been sick. I was born out of the sperm donor program, it took 5 years for mum to concieve. 6 weeks out of every year I was in hospital with some infection or other. My whole life I thought doctors had some great power, and I had to listen to them. It was when I was 'crazy' and all the doctors I had were literally running my life but no getting results I thought to myself...
"They know NOTHING. Its my body, my life - I can say no."
That day was a revelation. Ive learnt to know myself and just recently I had to go to the doctor. I controlled the whole visit - Yes, you can do that, no, you cant do that. Speak up to arseholes like that - dont take their crap. Doctors are human beings just like us and they DONT have all the answers.
Yes, third degree burns are bad. It will be painful but your allowed to fear it, to be upset by it. Everyones pain threshold is different. And it may not scar. You may be eligeble for plastic surgery after healing.
And religious or not, praying and positive thinking never hurt anyone.
Good luck. I feel for you.
Comment by Anonymous
Donna