Those who know me know I'm an accident looking for a place to happen. For instance, just minutes before writing this I fell down the stairs for no apparent reason. But this post isn't about me falling down the stairs, it's about the accident that got me admitted to the hospital.
It all happened Thursday evening when I was doing my usual thing, preparing dinner. It had been a crazy day so I resorted to Ravioli because it's easy. I used my heaviest, biggest pot and filled it 3/4 full with water and put it on the stove to boil. In the meantime I sipped a glass of wine and talked to Roel about the day. When the Ravioli was done, I lifted the pot off the stove and like lots of people I know (including my Mother who taught me the trick in the first place)I used the lid to hold the pasta back while I let off the water. Unfortunately, the pot of boiling water didn't end up in the sink, it ended up cascading down the entire front of my body.
Yes, that was me dropping the pot to the ground and hopping from one side of the room to the other screaming "my pants, my pants" trying desperately to get my jeans off my body, taking several layers of boiled leg-skin off with it. After 10 minutes of in-shower-crying I got out only to be hit square in the nervous system by a kind of pain I wasn't expecting. I felt like my bones were on fire and my skin was melting off, ok, my skin was indeed melting off...
and now for a little comic relief:
through my tears, moans and groans I heard my 9 year old say to my 7 year old, "worst case scenario, she'll have to have plastic surgery, but that's a 1 in 1,000 chance". I was then laughing, crying, moaning and groaning.
Roel's parents drove into the city from the burbs to mind the kids while Roel and I got over to the hospital. It was a balmy 30 F. that night which was why I was less than excited when the nurse ordered me to take all my clothes back off and get into the cold shower for 10 more minutes. Oh, p.s, there's no such thing as hospital gowns in Belgium, that includes gyno visits where you're expected to sit stark naked...with no gown. Yeah, I know.
Anyway, once out of the freezing shower and wrapped in some sort of towel thingy, I got a good view of my room. I think the most impressive part of the view was the poster being held to the wall by the tip of a hypodermic needle...yeah, classy, the room was also littered with used hypodermic needles, ok, only one but still. Aside from the lack of robe and the hypodermic needle situation, I have absolutely no complaints.
They informed me that my worst burns, which cover the upper half of my left leg, were second degree burns and that because they are water second degree burns, they are the most painful. Then the Doctor so kindly dragged a needle up and down my burns to make sure I had no nerve damage, thanks Doc. Then they gave me some morphine-type-stuff, slathered me in a thick layer of creme containing silver, bandaged me up and sent me home with a prescription for some heavy pain meds.
The next 48 hours were a drug-induced haze...but here I am on Monday with the ugliest leg you've ever seen...alive. And because this happened in Belgium we won't owe a zillion dollars to the hospital because we're living in a socialist country with socialized medicine...hooray! My visit to the E.R., medications, bandages etc. will cost us just about...hmmm...nothing! This kind of socialized medicine comes in handy when you're planning on adding a third (and last) baby to the mix sometime in the not-too-far away future. Don't get excited people, there's no bun in the oven yet.
Please be careful with boiling water. It can be nasty stuff.