(That is me after my long coma, stretching my legs
with some of my favorite nurses)
I wrote an opinion article in the Arizona Republic yesterday:
Two, sometimes three times a day,
the nurses would take down multiple layers of bandages,
scrub my fragile body and wounds, stretch my burned ligaments and joints,
and then wrap me back up again, only to repeat the process in a few hours.
They did all of this while carefully monitoring my pain in a room heated to
100 degrees for my safety and comfort.
And then there are the doctors (whom I love like I love my own father).
When I was sick and broken, they pieced me together like a patchwork quilt.
They literally sewed me back together, preserving life
and limbs that were burned to the bone.
My face was burned off, my arms and legs lay skinless,
and I was dying. But these doctors recognized my acute condition
and knew exactly what to do.
The men and women at the Arizona Burn Center perform miracles every day.
There is no other hospital or health system that can take its place. None.
READ the rest HERE
**Farewell September, welcome (my favorite month)