Scrubbing

She's at least 60... I'll say she's 67 or so. She's chubby and her skin is mottled with years gone by and her wrinkles seem like notches for all of the experiences she's had. Her eyes are simply jovial... curved and sparkling, while her mouth holds onto this constant little smirk. She has that starchy, curly white hair that most old women have, but little bits of it are singed.

She burned down her kitchen today, unfortunately. She left something on the stove and when she came back it was all ablaze. She lives alone, and she tried to fight the fire alone. A neighbor called 911, and the firefighters found her struggling to breath throwing buckets of sink water on the flames.

When they took her to the hospital, they managed her smoke inhalation pretty easily. By the time I met her, she was breathing with ease. Now the concern is her hands. Somehow they got burned pretty badly... and she is diabetic so wounds are more of a problem. I've been called into to scrub the burns.

My preceptor, an ER tech, helps me set up a little sterile field with gauze and a little sponge and a solution of sterile saline and johnson's baby shampoo in a little dish. I dip the sponge in the solution and prepare to scrub the first area... it's 2nd degree on her palm. I am so nervous about causing her pain. I imagine how bad it would hurt and wince. Finally I just start, gently at first, monitoring her facial expressions and voice... but she doesn't make any hint of pain. I realize that they've medicated the hell out her. Thank god. She has this lovely British accent and as I'm scrubbing away little flecks of black, burnt skin she tells me about her hometown.. Liverpool.

It takes over half an hour for me to scrub her burns. I'm meticulous, though. The whole time she is stoic and lively, chatting up a storm and staying cheery. I admire her for that. I bandage up her hands and tell her: "no more fire-fighting, okay?" before I leave.