"Come on Baby, Light My Fire"

Note: This blog is meant to be about our experiences while living on a farm. Sometimes it's funny, sometimes it's cool, and sometimes it's not. Life is never perfect...it isn't meant to be...and to only write about the "perfect parts" wouldn't be completely honest and real. So, here's our reality check:

Some of you may know that when Ben and I met, dated, and got married, he was a firefighter. Funny thing about that: he HATES burns and I HATE fire. I can never watch the movie "Ladder 49" again because it haunts me.

Yesterday was spent with us in the Emergency Room in Bisbee (more about Bisbee to come). Ben was lighting a fire to burn a clearing of brush on the farm. It flashed and caught him on fire. The bad news: he came running into the house with 2nd and 3rd degree burns from his elbow to his fingers. The good news: he's very lucky that NONE of his clothes or hair caught on fire, which would have had the same effect on MORE than the 5 % of his body that WAS affected.

The paramedics were called and before I knew it, I was speeding to the ER in the middle of a Monsoon with my husband sitting next to me.

I learned something about him AND myself yesterday:

First of all, by husband is even braver and more my hero than ever before. I'm not sure I (or many others) would have been able to keep it together as well as he did if I (they) were in his place. Unbelieveable!

Also, In the few times that I have passed out in my life, it was a result of extreme pain. I don't pass out when I'm scared or excited. I wanted to be a nurse since I was 7 years old. Eventhough I took another path, I still do not get queezy with greusome images or experiences (I exposed myself to a lot of that when I was preparing for nursing school)...Unless it's my husband.

While I was standing there being brave for Ben; watching them cut away the gray skin hanging from his arm, and poking needle after needle after IV into his arms (filled with "the good stuff"), I knew suddenly that I was about to pass out. I calmly walked to the other corner, sat in a chair (with a back on it), took off my sweater, and made sure I had a reassuring smile everytime he looked over in agony. After I returned to my chair, from a controlled and calm visit to the ladies room (to puke my guts out), I realized that I can't bare to see my husband (my rock, my hero, the love of my life) suffering. It stirs up emotions that my body is usually pretty resilient to.

After getting up every 3 hours during the night to give him his next dose of pain killers, I am now taking Ben back to get the dressings changed, examined, and more skin cut away. Please keep Ben in your prayers. If you pray. If you don't pray, then pray anyway....or light a candle...we'll take anything. :-)

I'll be in touch soon.