WOUNDS OF HOPE
WOUNDS OF HOPE The wind was harsh as a surgeon’s knife cornering mankind to the embrace of warmth and wool. Laxman was consoling the winter shivers by sleeping beside the fiery campfire in the tiny hamlet of tribal Orissa. Suddenly, he threw a convulsion and fell into the fire. The rebellious brain, by dead habit, did not attend to the thermal injury his body was suffering, till the somnolent villagers could salvage this mentally retarded child. His right arm got totally burnt and the elbow joint was exposed. Maggots made their cottages in the putrefied flesh. The ignorant parents brought this child of utter neglect to the hospital 20 days after the mishap. The first look at the wound, as the attending doctor triggered many feelings in me. Hope was not one of them. I had to explain the parents that the child would need intense ulcer care- the inclement insects had to be flushed out, the dead tissue had to be excised, the wound needed to be cleaned, before a sk...