The Burn: Rose Water (Part VI)

The washing of the wounds in rose water was a rite of passage at the burn center. It meant the wounds were healing — there was a crust, and scar tissue was beginning to form. It also meant the worst was behind; until then a wound could have gotten infected or the body could have rejected the skin graft, or a number of other things could have gone wrong. 

It also meant I’d be leaving the hospital soon. 

For a long time, the wounded part of my body had been protected and treated surgically. Anything normal, like bathing, felt threatening at first. But as the nurse gently rubbed my scars, I felt a little bit of the burn wash away and my new skin breathing. 

When I tried to stand up for the first time in four months, I got dizzy and felt like I was walking on waves. As I slowly walked down the corridor, looking into different rooms and corners, everything seemed smaller than I’d imagined. I could touch the walls. The world was accessible to me again.

For months, as the scars formed, my skin itched every night and I felt constant discomfort and dull pain. Mom cut my fingernails really short and sometimes held my hands, to stop me from scratching the wounds open. Later my grandmother took me to a few “alternative” healers to get ointments and lotions for my keloid scars. They helped somewhat. I don’t have any raised scars, but the color and texture didn’t fade with time. 

As time went by, I accepted the fact that I would always have scars. I learned to live with them, sometimes feeling as one, sometimes completely separate — maybe it’s true of all scars, visible or not. 

For years, I avoided cooking, lighting candles, ironing clothes, or doing anything that could potentially cause burns. 

To be continued…