After Graduation parties had all been over, and the realization that I was now forever considered grown up at 18 yrs old, I had to start thinking about my future. The Bureau of Vocational Rehabilitation had contacted me, and I was to go in for psychological and physical testing, to see if I was a candidate for free schooling. I of course tested and was, so I had to start thinking about what kind of classes I would take for me to have some kind of a career.

        Before my accident I was set on becoming a legal secretary. I had now begun typing again, in fact I was nearly as good as before my burns. However, secretarial work just did not seem very fulfilling to me anymore. I thought a lot about nursing. I had decided that this was the field in which I thought I was meant to pursue.

        School would have to wait awhile, since I had further surgeries coming up. All of my physical therapy sessions were now over. I had received a settlement from Pat’s Automobile Insurance Co., so with some of the money I purchased a Kimball Sensational Organ. I taught myself to play and this to me was better than any physical therapy in the world. The constant moving and stretching of my fingers on the keys was not only beneficial for my hands but for my inner physiological health as well. Music was healing. I played for hours a day, and while I played I didn’t think of it as work, only as enjoyment.

        Besides this kind of therapy for me I also was seeing a physiologist. I had 8 appointments scheduled. I am not really sure who had suggested this, maybe my doctors, or other therapists, but these visits were very helpful for me. Dr. Zupnik and I would talk about all of my fears, and feelings, disappointments, as well as my accomplishments. He hypnotized me several times, to try and relieve my fears of fire, and automobiles. I am not really sure I was truly hypnotized, but I learned to relax and meditate well. He taught be relaxation excersises, that I would use myself in future surgeries and uncomfortable situations.

        I was soon scheduled for yet another surgery on my right hand and face. This was to be an outpatient surgery, and I would not be put to sleep, they were going to use a local anethsetic.

        When I arrived at St. Vincent’s out patient admitting room my heart was pounding so hard and fast it was as though it was tapping out the beat of some rock and roll song. My palms were beading with sweat. What was I nervous about? I had endured so much at this point in my life. I could not believe how nervous and tense I was for this surgery. I slowly dressed into one of those hospital gowns that had been my attire so long ago. How familiar and comfortable they seemed to me now. They were almost to familiar, and they brought back many memories for me.

        I was not exactly looking forward to being awake while someone carved and cut and stitched my face, but I however had been through experiences like this before. After I was taken into the cold damp operating room I was prepped and strapped to the table. When the team of doctors had finished scrubbing they entered the room ready to begin, while I lay there wet with perspiration, and knees knocking. My entire face was cleansed along with my right hand. Long needles with Novocain were stuck into my lower right cheek and as this medication was inserted into my skin I felt severe stinging, and discomfort. This was repeated twenty or more times while I cried and screamed with terror. They even inserted the needles into my nostrils as to make sure my entire nose would also become numb. This procedure was also repeated on my right hand. I remembered what my psychologist had taught me and really tried to use the self relaxation tools, but they didn’t seem to work very well this time. Any unknown experience like this is frightening and after this surgery, the rest of them from here on got easier and easier because I knew what to expect.

       Soon my cheek and nose were completely numb and I felt nothing. The doctors were going to cut all along the outside of my raised keloid scar and then stretch the skin together to make a finer thinner scar. At this point in wasn’t uncomfortable at all. I could only feel pressure. As one doctor started carving away the burn scar I could see the reflection of his work in his eye glasses. This sight was not very pretty but I observed closely until the open bloody wound was closed. Meanwhile my nail beds in my right hand were scrapped, as to remove the small bits and pieces of nail that remained. Along with this my nose was then sanded, to try and remove the deep pitted pore scarring that had occurred as a result of my burns. After all was done these surgical sites were wrapped, and I soon was allowed to go home. This painful frightening experience would long be remembered, but would also be beneficial to be with upcoming surgeries.

        When I arrived home I was given Tylenol with codeine to help with the discomfort. As the numbness started to wear off I felt the familiar pains I had experienced so long ago. I remember getting up once to go to the bathroom and looked into the mirror. The incision on my face had numerous internal and external stitches, along with tons of sterile tap strips to hold it together. The first initial look of this, along with my scrapped nose made me faint. I had never fainted before. What had happened to all of that strength that I once had? Why did I faint now at this sight when I had seen so much worse in the past. I suppose that now, even though I would still have many more reconstructive surgeries, the strength that I once had in the hospital was no longer needed now. This to me was a new experience.

        The rest of the summer went by quickly, and the scar on my face was much smaller than before. I would however require several more of them, and eventually, hopefully, all I would have left on the right side of my face would be a small line, similar to a cut. My nails beds healed, but still small pieces of nail continued to grow, and were quite annoying, so yet another surgery would be required on them also. My index finger was fused and bent extremely bad. Also the joints in my thumb were also fused. Fused means when the joint does not work, bend, or do anything. It is like its stuck. This was caused from the burns, not because of lack of therapy. With my index finger fused so badly it made many things impossible to do. So I would have another surgery on that as well in the future.

        In the fall I was getting frustrated and bored. I had decided that I was going to go to the burn unit and visit some of my old nurse friends. What a joyous visit I had. They of course all remembered me, and were surprised at how remarkably well I looked. This pleased me, because they had seen me at my worst, and now they were all telling me how wonderful I looked. That was something I thought I would never hear again. It had been almost one year now, and I truly was recovering and starting to look more like the girl I used to be before my accident.

       I went down to the St. Vincent’s Volunteer Department, and signed up. I wanted to work with burn victims. At first they assigned me to a clinic, and I didn’t really do much there. It of course it was not the burn clinic, so all I really did, was help with filing, and talked to patients in the waiting room, organized the waiting room, with all the numerous books and magazines, and crayons, toys and other things for the children. This was not fulfilling me, it wasn’t what I wanted to do, so I went and talked to the director of volunteers and asked if there was anything that I could do in the burn unit. She said that on Tuesday’s they could use some help with the clinic there. I took this opportunity in a heart beat. So every Tuesday I would go to the burn unit. In the mornings I would do whatever they needed, whether it would be stock supplies, make iced tea or coffee, but what I really enjoyed the most was talking with the patients. Sometimes I felt strange just walking into their rooms and introducing myself. They probably wondered why this stranger, would even want to talk to them. At this point, if you looked at my face you really couldn’t tell that I had been so severely burned. My hands however showed my "war" injuries so to speak, but I was so fortunate that my face had healed so well, and that what bad scaring I did have was pretty much hidden along my jaw line. My hair was also long again now and that too helped to hide the scars. I wasn’t always sure what I would talk to them about. I would ask them how they were feeling, or how they got burned, and as the conversation would enfold, I would tell them about my burn experience. When you are burned no one really understands what you are going through. I felt as though these victims knew that I truly did understand their fears and pain, and I somehow gave them some hope that they would turn out all right.

        In the afternoon I would go to the cafeteria for lunch. Sometimes I would sit from the nurses from the unit, but most of the time I sat with the therapists from occupational and physical therapy. I had become good friends with all of them by this time, and they were all such wonderful people.

        After lunch was the Tuesday Burn Clinic. This was when patients who were hospitalized or whom just were recently released came to see the doctors for necessary check-ups or for some to get their supplies. I would do whatever necessary to help out. I even got to schedule some patients on the computer. I would help with transportation of some of them, picking them up at the hospital doors, or getting patients from therapy, and wheeling them in their wheel chairs to the clinic. This was a very rewarding thing for me being able to help out the way I did. Sometimes people would wonder why would I volunteer, but honestly that is what made it so special. I wasn’t getting paid to be there, I didn’t have to show up if I didn’t want to, the point was that I wanted to, and no money in the world could replace the good feelings I received by doing so. Volunteering at the hospital was yet just another step of my whole healing process.

Chapter 6 Recovery

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