Stand for Truth

I can't give full commentary on this photo since my blog is run on the google platform where freedom of speech is not guaranteed, but I will submit the quote for your consideration. If you are feeling the sting of society's stigmas upon you, you know what I'm talking about. If you're not feeling society's stigmas, it might bear some self-reflection. Objective truth is found in scripture, we can read and know the truth. Society's definition of "moral high ground" is not the source of truth, and is in fact often the opposite of truth. We see a lot of that these days, in a society that has been slowly drifting for decades. One of my most earnest prayers is to see society returning, but whether it does or whether it does not, I will continue to stand for truth. (Just not necessarily on google or facebook or other platforms that may censor speech!)

 

Trigger Warning: Raw Scar Images (Right Hand)

One thing I've had in the back of my mind since I started this blog has been to share some images of how my scars have progressed. My dad and my sister were very good about taking progress pictures, at my request, when the nurses removed the bandages to clean the wounds. Just skip past anything with a trigger warning if you'd rather not see graphic/raw/sometimes bloody pictures.

The initial injury happened 9/7/20, and we were rescued two days later, 9/9/20. I don't have pictures quite that early because I was totally out of it and hadn't requested for my family to take pictures yet. The hospital staff took pictures, which I requested, but the CD of medical records they sent me doesn't work on my computer. Oh well. So I don't know what my hands looked like before surgery. I have had many surgeries, especially in those first 7 weeks at the hospital, but the first week was a real blur in my mind.

I do have one memory of my raw hands before being rescued. All I remember is that they were so, so, so swollen. I stood there on the bank of the river in a daze and looked down at my hands, and thought that my ring finger was probably going to fall off where the ring squeezed it tight. Everywhere all around the ring was twice as big as it ought to be, fingers so fat and swollen. Jacob and I discussed it as we stood there by the river, noting that we should have pulled our rings off right after the fire when we still could. But that had been the last things on our mind.

Anyway, here is a picture of my hand and arm now. Scroll no further unless you'd like to see raw images.

11/09/22

9/16/20

They did skin grafts on my back and chest before I was even aware where I was. My arms and hands they also got to pretty quick, but by then I was more cognizant. This picture was taken on my 27th birthday, before my skin graft. I know that, because I was scheduled for surgery that day, but my nurse told the doctors absolutely not. "You can't take her down for surgery on her birthday!" she insisted. I am grateful. My surgery was rescheduled for two days later. I expected to wake up with skin grafts on both hands and both arms, but instead woke up with only one hand grafted, because they'd also had to do the hysterectomy. It was a horrible night. I reacted poorly to one of the anesthesiologist's pain med choices and had unpleasant hallucinations all night and through most of the next day, too. 

But on my birthday I had a pleasant day. My nurse even made cake and blended it with whipped cream on her own time in her own kitchen to bring for me. The staff and even other patients colored pictures for me. My family put up lights in my room and all sorts of nice things. And in this picture of my arm and hand on my birthday, I was still wearing the cadaver skin from my initial surgery. The body will ultimately reject skin from a different body, including cadaver skin, but it is used as a temporary fix to hold a burn patient over until the actual grafting can be done.

And this image is after they'd finished re-bandaging it.

9/24/20

They used staples to hold the skin grafts on. As it healed, they removed the staples bit by bit during daily wound care.

9/30/20

Stretching was an important part of my daily activity. It was the only way for the skin grafts to heal properly, since they tend to shrink and become tight.

10/6/20

10/11/20

10/15/20

As the wounds slowly healed, I needed less and less of the xeroform (yellow bandages) on them.

10/30/20

This is after being discharged from the hospital, getting to hold my niece for the first time.

11/15/20

This is one of the many splints my occupational therapist made for me to stretch my fingers. They wouldn't bend at all at first, but slowly over time with LOTS of hard work, they got back to functional level bending. Though they will never be perfect. My pointer finger had a pin in it for a long time, so it will never bend super well, but the others do pretty well! My occupational therapist told me that when she first saw my hands, she thought I would end up with multiple amputated fingers... so it's pretty great to still have all of them and have them work decently well!

7/5/21

By July my hands were looking pretty good.

7/09/21

But they never looked too great right after the many laser surgeries to soften the scars.

9/19/21

4/3/22

And there were also the surgical release surgeries to help gain more motion in the thumb webspace.

Overall, my hands have been through a lot. But they've also had a lot of help - surgeons, nurses, occupational therapist, family, friends who are like family, and of course Jacob. At first others drove us to our surgeries, but once we were back on our feet we started scheduling our surgeries on a staggered schedule, so we could take turns taking care of each other.

In the midst of hardships, there is always a lot to be thankful for. Having good relatively functional skin and fingers is pretty high up there on the list! ;)

The Most Important Work

I love this quote from C.S. Lewis. It can be hard to get work done with little ones underfoot. Trying to get the housework done, or open up the computer and get paperwork done, or open the hood of the car and do repairs, or anything. The little ones want their parents' attention, they want to be involved with what's going on. And allowing the child to "help" often creates more work than there was to begin with, because they're not really skilled enough to actually help. They just make a bigger mess, and you have to re-do the work that they did, more often than not. But that's okay. That whole process is worth embracing. When small children are allowed to help, they know that they are a valued part of the family. They know that they are involved. They know that their contribution matters. It really instills a sense of peace and security in the child. This is the most important work. Living life with the little ones, creating an atmosphere for them to grow and thrive in.

 

A Well Watered Garden

The scripture verse I am thinking about today:

The Lord will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail. - Isaiah 58:11

I love that imagery. A well-watered garden. It's truly a beautiful metaphor for the way the Lord ministers to His people. 

During the infamous summer of 2020 when everything shut down for "two weeks to flatten the curve" our little family was establishing a garden.

First, I marked out the area we would build the garden in.

Then, we began to work the ground.

Uri helped us filter the rocks out of the dirt. There were a lot of rocks!

Jacob used some old bricks to build a mini wall to keep the rabbits out, and we would use a lightweight fencing to keep the chickens out.

Uri loved to help his Dada.

The look of wonder, awe, and delight on my son's face... there's nothing like it. When God said He would make mankind in His own image and His own likeness... he was thinking about my little boy. That's the best way I can describe it. Perhaps other parents can relate to the feeling. Before becoming a mother, I had experienced awe and wonder in my life at times. Or so I thought. Watching my son delight in creation was like rediscovering all over again the raw essence of all that is good and right and lovely.

We were given some raspberry bush starts from a friend's garden, which we planted and watered as well. We didn't necessarily expect them to produce any fruit that first year, but they did. They produced one berry. I hope it was a sweet one. I gave it to Uri, who absolutely loved berries, and he ate it. There would be many more berries the next summer, but Uri wouldn't be there to enjoy them. I'm glad he got to eat that first berry. Sometimes it's the littlest memories that bring me both solace and fresh grief. 

Our Garden was very humble in its beginnings that first year, and we loved it. I think we will always think of it as "Uri's garden", even thought it has grown and changed over these last two years without him. No one will ever love that garden as much as Uri did, though I pray his younger siblings make it into the world and get to enjoy it as he enjoyed it. Or perhaps we will live somewhere else and start a new garden, the they too will have the experience like he did of seeing raw land transformed into a lovely garden. We cannot know the future, we can only press forward into it one step at a time.

Blessings.