Page 7 - January 2021 BSTTW Community News

7 BSTTW COMMUNITY NEWS
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had been drinking so far. My sense of taste
seemed to have been exaggerated either
by the drugs or by the lack of solid food. My
only demand from the nurses that from then
on they fill my glass with water from the
shower head in the bathroom.
The First Operation
I had been in the second hospital around a
week, and it was time for my first operation.
I was still on painkilling drugs and knew
very little of what was going on around me.
The television was turned on all the time
and when no programs were on, a jingle
would play about once every five minutes, a
strange tune that made me feel as if I had
died and been reborn; and was now on
some strange planet where nothing of my
life as it was would ever be the same again.
From my bed I looked out of the window, all
I could see were sky and clouds.
The thirst was a problem. I was not allowed
to drink before the operation. I could have a
damp spray directed into the back of my
mouth but that was not enough. I was given
drugs to prepare me for the operation and
later had my first trip outside the room,
where I was wheeled to the theater via a lift,
on a trolley. I saw more corridor ceilings. In
the operating theater I was told to count to
ten. I could do this in German, but I think I
only counted up to four. Waking from the
operation, I was bandaged all over from
chest to foot and my arms. I could not use
my hands, my fingers and thumbs had been
individually bandaged. Both my legs had
been drilled through bone and threaded
with four metal spikes. These metal spikes
were clamped to a frame support holding
my legs about one foot apart at the knee. It
was as if I had been crucified and hung by
my legs. My knees were bent at forty-five
degrees, I was not very comfortable. All this
was to prevent the skin grafts from moving
whilst the process of healing continued.
The areas of my skin that had healed
sufficiently, had been used to provide skin
for the badly burned areas. The healthy
skin had been removed in thin layers,
pricked with small holes and stretched to
cover a larger area and then grafted onto
my legs. Surface burnt skin will only heal
along three millimeters of its edge, so the
stretched holes could be no bigger than six
millimeters. I now had donor areas which
were as painful as the burnt areas.
My legs would look like a patchwork. I
asked for a mirror to see my face. It
appeared that I was to survive this ordeal
and I wanted to see what I looked like. I
was not given a mirror. Why couldn't I have
a mirror? It was not through fear that I
wanted to see myself, it was curiosity. But
not being allowed a mirror made matters
worse. My hair had been burnt, my face
was still swollen and my eyesight was
foggy. Over a week had elapsed, so what
did I look like?
Emotions, Pain and Other Patients
I was very emotional, the nurses were
pretty and I wanted to marry all of them.
One nurse, Monica, would telephone me
from her flat in the evenings. I did not have
any visitors; they were not allowed, so her
phone calls were my only link with the
outside world. She would play records that I
knew and this established a link between
this hospital world and my life before, when
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