This has been a rough year for a lot of people. Last year was a rough year for me. This year has been better, in large part because in February I started a new job, and in April I got engaged.
Now don't get me wrong; the year hasn't been perfect. Work is often busy and can be frustrating. There is stuff going on in the world that every time I think, "well, we just hit rock bottom," it keeps going. But I find that I am in a much better place mentally and emotionally than I was last year. This has been a drastically better year for me than last year, in spite of the story I'm about to tell you.
On Easter, I caught on fire.
Jason, Baldur, and I were at my parents' house for lunch and I was helping my mom in the kitchen. She asked me if I could get something out of the cabinet for her. Said cabinet was over the gas stove, which was on. Rather than getting a stool and coming around the side, like a smart person, I decided to take the quick and easy route and reach over the stove.
Anyone remember that scene in Mrs. Doubtfire, where Robbin Williams says, "Gosh, it's hot in here," about a second and a half before he realizes his blouse is on fire? It really does happen like that. My stomach got hot and I thought, "I'm probably too close to the stove." Then I thought maybe I had brushed up against the hot metal of the pan because it was too hot. Then I backed away from the stove and saw little yellow flames on my shirt and realized what was going on. It takes so much longer to type or tell that than the actual realization, which probably took all of a second.
I screamed. The concept of "stop, drop, and roll" went out of my head, and I thought instead of water. I was close to the sink and grabbed for the extendable hose and tried to spray myself. My mom had realized what was going on and was also screaming, beating at the flame with a dish towel. I realized that the hose's reach was not quite far enough at the same time that my mom came to her senses, cried "stop, drop, and roll!" and pushed me down to the stone tile floor, hard.
This whole incident seems like it took several minutes in my head, but in reality, probably was less than 10 seconds.
I lay on the nice cold tile, shaking from adrenaline, aware that I had been burned, but also aware that I was, in the grand scheme of things, fine. "I'm OK!" I called at least twice. Baldur had come running in, concerned, at some point, and by now Jason and my dad were in the kitchen, too. My mom was distraught - much more upset that I was.
I was led to the bathroom. I had worn a white, gauzy blouse (as one does on Easter) - the entire front was just gone. Jason helped me out of my ruined shirt, and helped me wet the burn and put aloe on it. I remember looking in the mirror and thinking, "Oh, ok, that's not so bad - I've had sunburns that looked worse." I don't remember what I said, but I made some black humor remark along the lines of, "well, there's our lunch plans up in smoke." Jason told me later that that's when he knew I was alright.
They took me to urgent care. On the way, I asked my mom to hang onto the ruined blouse - "I need it for a book I'm writing!" My parents said this is when they knew I was going to be OK.
I walked into urgent care in a large baggy cotton beach dress from the 80's - the first thing we could find in my mom's closet that was breathable and big enough that it would allow for a lot of space for the burn under it. The receptionist asked what she could do for us. I announced that my shirt had caught on fire.
"Your what?!" she asked.
"Not this one," I clarified.
I was taken back quickly, because you don't mess around with burns. The consensus of the nurse was that it was, all things considered, a best-case scenario. I had what looked like it would stay the angry, red of 1st degree burns on most of my stomach, with a couple smaller streaks that were turning the white of 2nd degree. I would probably blister, she said, and I would have to go to the burn specialist on Monday. But given how quickly it got put out, the fact that the shirt was thin, natural fibers, and the fact that my hair was not longer, all had given me a lot less damage than she normally saw with clothing fires. They wrapped me up in gauze like Gwyneth Paltrow in Shakespeare in Love.
At the burn center the next day, the nurses and doctor were amazed. They were used to seeing 3rd degree armpit burns with clothing fires and were astounded with how minor* mine was by comparison. The pain of the headache from the reaction with the pain medication was much worse than the pain from the burn itself, which really was more itchy than painful. The doctor came in, looked at my stomach, and said, "Oh, yeah, that looks great!" He predicted I would have no scarring and would not need surgery.
*"Minor" does not mean it was fun, though, so don't get any ideas, kids.
I didn't tell a lot of people about this - just family, close friends, and those who needed to know why I wasn't going to be at work for a week - mainly because I kind of felt stupid.
This is the sort of thing that could have been a lot worse. This could have been the sort of thing that ruined my year. But it wasn't. Despite this, I still consider this to be a relatively good year.
I got a new job which, even when it is busy and frustrating, I know I have the support of my supervisor. And not only her and my coworkers, but also professors, deans, and the Provost all seem to think I'm doing really well at what I do. Even the President of the University has stopped me in the hall to say what great things she has heard about me.
In a month, I will be married to a wonderful man who has been my companion, my comfort, and (more often than you would think) my caretaker for 6 years. We have had a great outpouring of love and support from our friends and family, which helps when it's been frustrating trying to get in touch with the florist.
I don't mean it to sound like I'm bragging. I'm just astounded at the difference a few months can make. If I had caught on fire last year, it would have been so much worse, just because of where I was emotionally. As it was this year, it was just a minor setback.
Those of you who are having a rough year, I wish for you the sort of year I've had (minus the fire).