Last semester, I was in a battle to fight off a bad case of the sniffles. Alas, in my efforts to rid myself of said sniffles, I accidentally dumped a bowl of boiling hot water on myself and my consolation prize was a nice pair of second degree burns on my left hip. But at least I scared the cold right out of me so I can’t really complain. It’s been six months since my husband, Bill, had to rush my scorched self to the ER and since I no longer have a cold and my burns are now healed, I figured it was a good time to write an article dedicated to the man who has always been and always will be my best friend, knight in shining armor and ice cream provider.
The title of this post suggests clearly what I want to write about, but perhaps not clearly enough. See, I don’t want to write about the extremely high levels of pain I endured from the burn accident, how the doctors had to feed me pain killers through an IV to get the lower half of my body to stop shaking violently from shock long enough to take my pulse, or how I was rushed to a burn unit in an ambulance (yes, it’s as cool as it sounds).
I want to write about who was holding my hand literally through all of the pain, the tears, the delusional drugged up Victoria requests for audrey hepburn movies and burgers, and who has held my hand through all of life’s ups and downs. My husband of over a year and my best friend of nearly four years.
After screaming bloody-murder following the spill of scalding hot water, Bill immediately got me a cold towel and called the hospital. He didn’t scream, shout or ask what he should do. He just did it with a straight face and a calm voice.
All he said was, “It’s going to be fine. You need to relax and get dressed. We are going to the ER.”
I don’t think even my parents who have experienced split-open eyebrows, broken collar bones, and 104.00 temperatures would have been half as calm as my husband was.
We got in the car and rushed to the hospital. I felt like I was screaming more than a woman in labour. Someone would have thought I was giving birth in the front seat of our mazda.
“It’s going to be fine. You need to breathe and calm down,” was all my husband kept saying to me.
"Easy for you to say," I thought. "Your skin isn’t literally boiling and bubbling!"
The truth was, however, it wasn’t easy for Bill to say. After being released from the burn unit the morning following the accident, Bill told me how utterly frightened he had been the night before.
“I had no idea what to do for you or what to say to help. I had no idea how to make the pain go away," he told me on our drive home. "You really scared me.”
The night before I had been basically surrounded by nurses and doctors the second we got to the ER. Looking back on it, everything is sort of a blur; the nurses rushing for the bandages, the doctor authorising the pain killers. The one thing I remember clearly is gripping Bill’s hand the entire time. I vaguely remember saying, “You’re going to stay with me right?” His answer was obviously, "Yes."
And he did. He practically tailed the ambulance the whole 40 miles from the ER to the next hospital and his hand returned to mine the second he walked through the emergency doors. I don’t recall ever letting go till I fell asleep in my cushy hospital bed while Bill slept scrunched in a plastic chair next to me.
For the past three years, this man has held my hand through anything ranging from high school drama with friends to recurring nightmares.
To say that I felt more secure and confident in the hands of my husband than in the hands of caring and long-time professional doctors is a statement not said lightly.
Thank you Bill for being brave, and kind and strong all these years and for changing my life from “Hello, my name is Bill,” to “Good morning, my name is husband.” Thank you for always putting me first even when you are the one who should be front and center. So this is me, putting you ahead of everything, ahead of my own goals and any other articles I could have written about the latest big screen movie hit. You're the hit of my life and it's time you're kindness was put in the spotlight. Thank you for caring for my burns both literal and figurative.
