Bad news is still good news, just because it's freakin' news

Scott has returned to the scary free clinic downtown. He visited there after a less severe bike accident and last time I didn't fare very well with the Hispanic children trying to take my food out of my hands. But beggars can't be choosers and we're grateful for the option.

It's a Christian clinic, designed to help those without health insurance or incomes receive medical care. The pay is on a sliding scale and it's kept inexpensive because doctors volunteer their hours there.

The volunteer doctor grimaced at the sight of Scott's hand. "You got burned through all seven layers of skin," he told him. "All that's left is the flesh."

The doctor set up a tub of warm, soapy water and instructed Scott to soak his hand, elbow, and foot for 20 minutes each, twice a day, starting right there. It should soften up the burns and relieve some of the pressure and swelling. He also wrote out yet more prescriptions: a burn cream, another pain prescription, another antibiotic, and the mega dose of ibuprofen.

Honestly, I was startled at the difference in attention Scott received from the two doctors. The rich one we know wouldn't even look at Scott's injuries and berated us, and the volunteer doctor that took the best care of him yet. I guess he volunteers because of his faith and his gifts. But I know not all of the people that come in to that clinic are like Scott. There are the homeless men looking to get high that they must deal with on a daily basis. I know that that must be difficult to deal with and, for me, it would make me even more cynical and jaded. But I guess it's not fair for me to project my misgivings on to other people.

But, finally, we have a diagnosis and a plan. Scott is to return to the clinic every three days so the doctor can check the progress on the wounds. If the swelling is not down to an acceptable level by early this week, then the doctor is going to refer him to a different hospital than the one we went to for skin grafts. Poor Scott is so skinny that I don't know where this extra skin is going to come from. I just hope that he'll be able to wiggle his fingers and be able to use his hand again. I'm trying to keep that my main focus.

And even though the diagnosis and the plan means that things are more severe than originally thought, it's good to finally know what is going on. To know, for sure, what the problem is takes some of the stress away. Now we're just hoping that he heals enough on his own that he won't need the grafts.