Wound Care

 

I love seeing their reflections in the doctor's computer. 

Momma remembers when Uncle Montye broke his arm back in the day. They left that cast on for months whether he needed it or not. When they went back to the doctor to remove the cast, Montye was horrified. His arm had atrophied (half the size of the other) and translucent white compared to the healthy brown other, grown wiry black hairs, and the skin...scaled. He thought it was going to be that way forever. Half skinny lizzard. Half boy.

They sent me the pictures when she was still at the doctor's office. She'd dutifully brought her prescriptions in the casserole dish we are using on the coffee table. I just have to smile. And she has on her house shoes. 

The next morning, she asked, "Wanna see my scar?" She reminds me of my grandson, Dash. He was overly excited to see my toenail come off. Intrigued, he wanted to make sure I saved it so he could examine it and compare to the picture to see how it healed by the time he saw me next. Gross? 

That scar is all pinched up and funny lookin. They say it will flatten out. But now it's time to use the green scrubby to wash off that orange disinfectant and the scales that couldn't slough off while in the wrap. But I ain't no doubting Thomas about these things. I know she suffered. And that she will heal. But I'll look at it anyway and try to wipe carefully around the wrinkles. I'll be careful not to scrub too hard and soak it first in hot, soapy water. That bear grease'll come in handy again and I'll massage it carefully from her elbow and through each finger. 

Wanna-see-my-scar comments really aren't about looking at the gruesome. It's about recognizing and admitting that you know how bad that hurt the other person. And that their body bears the mark of it in their once unmarked skin. That you feel a bit of the pain and horror at this permanent mark while the wound turns to a scar. It's a way of simultaneously grieving and moving forward. And sometimes, looking at the process of healing - how we are involved in it - is intriguing: curiously not gross or morbid. Something to be examined, mulled over, and celebrated. Wound care, inside or out, isn't gross.