My friend’s baby has to have a skin graft this morning. The poor little mite is 11 months old and spilt a cup of hot tea which was on the coffee table down her front last weekend – they rushed her to hospital, were then transferred to a specialist burns unit and have since spent the most traumatic week imaginable: including having to physically hold their baby down while her bandages were changed.
Most of the area has blistered and is healing under the bandages, but a small area on her neck is not, so they’re going to take a tiny piece of skin from under her arm and stick it on her neck with special glue.
She’s just at the stage of pulling herself up using the furniture so every day some place that used to be safely out of her reach is newly accessible.
But the worst of it is that my friend, who was in the room when the accident happened and whose cup of tea it was, is positively wracked by guilt. She and her partner (he’s my canyoning buddy) are wonderful parents, they’re loving and careful and sensible but… she was exhausted after another disturbed night and, well, frankly, accidents happen.
Despite the anxiety and helplessness they’re both feeling – which can tend to cause a person to say all sorts of things they don’t really mean – there have been no recriminations or blame. However, this is largely because they’re not really speaking or even touching, apparently. They’ve both retreated into themselves in an effort, I’m sure, not to say something they’ll regret.
Its all rather ghastly. However, the main thing is that little April seems okay. She’s eating and sleeping well and is cheerful, even though she’s bandaged from neck to waist.
Please pray to whatever gods listen to you that her skin graft op today goes smoothly and that she heals fast and completely.