So, I have a bit of an accident in the kitchen Sunday morning. The oven in our apartment is really, really old, dating back to when one had to turn on the gas and then light it with a match because it had no pilot light. (This must be the kind of oven that Sylvia Plath used to kill herself.) I turned on the gas, lit a match, and went to light the oven, but the air conditioner in the kitchen blew my match out. I almost lit another one, but started to think "oh, maybe before I turn the oven on I should decide for sure that I'm going to bake something." I had been going back and forth between using my leftover sliced peaches from jam-making to make a peach cobbler or some sort of peach sauce for pancakes or something. After-all, we were out of eggs and milk so our breakfast options were limited. I started flipping through my cookbook for inspiration, etc, etc. I finally decided to go ahead with my original peach cobbler plan, so I lit a match and put it up to the little hole in the bottom of the oven where you're supposed to light it.
Whoosh. I immediately knew my mistake as I heard and saw the gas-filled oven completely fill with flame. I knew that my hair was most likely on fire, so I began vigorously hitting my hair to put it out, all the while screaming over and over in order to make up everyone else in the house as well as because I was terrified at the knowledge of what I had done to myself. Paul and Terry (my father-in-law) came running into the kitchen. I quickly explained what had happened. Terry ushered me to the bathroom sink to put cold water on my face while Paul pick up poor, traumatized Andrew, who had been standing on a chair at the counter waiting to help me make breakfast. (Thank goodness Andrew is big enough now that I'm never holding him while doing any sort of work in the kitchen). I was handed a hand towel to soak in cold water and hold onto my burning face. After peaking at my face in the mirror, we knew that I wasn't burned terribly badly, but I probably ought to see a doctor. Paul got a gallon ziplock bag and filled it with ice and water so I could continually re-cool my hand towel on the way to the hospital. Terry and Paul took me to the emergency room while my mother-in-law stayed home and took care of Andrew. (Thank goodness this happened when so many people were there to help!)
The emergency room was able to take care of me pretty quickly. They gave me ice packs for my face and neck, and an IV with morphine. They said I mostly had 1st degree burns, which is like a severe sunburn. They cut my apron and my shirt off of me (Thank goodness the shirt was a cheap Old Navy clearance buy), but I had the presence of mind to ask that they please NOT cut my bra off since it's a really good Victoria's Secret bra that I waited months for the semi-annual sale to get. I don't know whether they would have cut it off anyway, since they don't have to pull it over your head to get it off of you, but they sure looked like they were being cavalier with those scissors! I told them the pain was about a 4 on a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being the most pain you've ever been in, since I've had a baby, afteralll. One of the nurses said "I hear that!" I'm surprisingly funny, and extra candid, when I'm in painful, emergency situations. You should have heard me when I was in labor. Oh yes, after settling me in at the emergency room and ensuring that I was ok, Paul had to go home so he could drive Terry and Emma to the airport to return to their home. Our good friend Varnali came to the hospital to keep me company while Paul was gone.
So, my face is healing now. It's kind of in the "worse before it gets better" stage, I think, because lots of it is stiff and crusty and hurts when it peels or cracks. I'm to keep antibacterial goop on it 24/7, so it's really greasy and shiny. I'm hoping I'll be over the hump in terms of recovery after tomorrow. I've been to a follow-up appointment at a burn care clinic, and I'll be going there again next Tuesday. The doctor there confirmed that my face will make a full recovery. A very kind friend in our ward watched Andrew for me during the appointment yesterday and even made a dinner for us. (Thank you, Elyse!
I guess I can't write this post without including a picture, so here are a couple. The first one is the day after the incident, and the second one I took just now. Can see that I don't have any eyebrows? My eyelashes are about half their usual length. I'm keeping my hair back so it doesn't get stuck to my goopy face and neck. Once my face gets better, I'm going to need a haircut. There are seeming random spots throughout my hair that are a coarser texture because they got singed. I've brushed and washed out all of the really yucky blackened burned hair. Boy, was it stinky. I do have almost all my hair intact, though, so I've very thankful for that. All-in-all I have much to be thankful for and I'm going to be just fine. By the way, about 4 hours after returning from the emergency room I got right back on the horse and baked the peach crisp. And, our landlord's handyman came over today to see what it will take to replace our oven and stove.
