This reflection is by Jessica Kasper, a junior from Chilton, Wis. She is Newman's social justice student coordinator.
There was a man who I will never forget. He walked in with bandages that
looked very similar to the bandages the Sisters were using. He must have
come in previously to have his wounds cleaned. The bandages, normally white,
were stained with brown spots and dried watermarks. The man began to unwrap
the old bandages in order to
have
his wounds cleaned. As he did, he had difficulty because the bandages had
started to heal into his skin, as they had not been changed in a few days.
Surprisingly enough, the man spoke English very well. We asked him what had happened, and he admitted lying to the Sister about the cause of his wounds. He’d told her that his legs were run over by a truck. He confessed that while sleeping on a city bench one night, some kid had lit his legs on fire. He tried to chase after the kid, but his legs were in too much pain.
The burns were on both of his legs, though his left leg was more severe. The wounds were infected. Once the bandages were removed, the Sister began to clean the burns with rubbing alcohol. The man yelled out in pain, as if the cleaning of his wounds was worse than the fire that created them. He kept telling us that he did not want to go through the pain, though he knew it would make them better. As each of the six burn spots were dabbed with rubbing alcohol, he cried out again. Iodine was then applied to the wounds still raw from the rubbing alcohol. As each burn was treated with the brown liquid, the man grimaced in pain. The Sister took a cotton swab and rubbed iodine into the wound to prevent further infection. The man kept saying, "I have to stay strong, it’s almost over."
He said we didn’t understand how hard it was to keep the bandages clean. He walked all day in dirty streets to take care of his pigs. The other day it had rained and he walked through mud puddles to get from one place to the next. He said he tried, but it was too hard to keep them clean. As the Sister finished cleaning the last burn, we saw a feeling of relief wash over him. She put new, white cloths on the newly cleansed wounds. It would be at least five days before the burns would be cleaned again. He said aloud that he "had been a good boy the entire time." Indeed he was. I wished him luck with taking care of the burns as he left, though we both knew that he would need much, much more than that.
