If you can't remember the first dream you had sketched out, could it be because you have grown up?

One of the cases we had in Plastic Surgery was a young female coming with inability to close her left eye (ectropion of left lower lid), inability to open her mouth (microstomia) and limited mobility of her neck (contracture of the neck). She sustained a major third degree burn following a gas explosion six months ago, admitted to the ICU before the department handled her multiple graft procedures.

I kept thinking, God, it wasn't the gas tank we gave away after Ayyash burned down, was it? I swear it was intact and not unshapely when I gave it away.

"She was a potential mortality patient," said Dr. Mostafa with a slight grim tone. "She survived that and now she comes because of the contractures."

When she was exposed for examination, the Egyptian lady who was in the room with us drew a sharp breath and said "la ilaha illallah" multiple times at the extent of her injury but the patient remained unperturbed. Maybe it was the contractures in her face that prevented proper expression, or it could be her calm and steady acceptance of her conditon, or maybe she had long resigned her fate to such scrutiny.

But I -this might sound dramatic and overthinking- I kept thinking it could have been me. I was torn between saying alhamdulillah and bolting out of the class. I chose to further sink into my seat.

I had questions for that class, about the prognosis of the patient. Her lower abdomen and perineum were affected by the burn and currently hyperemic and contracted. Will she be able to get pregnant and can her abdomen accomodate the expansion?

But I stopped myself from asking, because the antecedent question was whether there will be marriage for this 23 years old single lady.

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Stuffs like this reminded me of the grim thoughts I had post-Ayyash. Everyone kept saying "thank God you're okay" and Umair's only words to me about the fire was that she was glad I didn't die. And I quote Dr. Hesham when he taught us Liver, "a living problem is better than a dead one."

But truthfully, I thought otherwise. Maybe it was the depression of multifactorial etiologies that made me entertain things I shouldn't be; one of them was having no control over things. I had to remind myself that life means opportunities to increase my good deeds for the sake of afterlife and chances to repent. And everyday, I literally had to extort my brain to find reasons to be happy that life goes on and to get over this.

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I have Plastic exam in about seven hours. At this rate, I don't think I can ever study for Burn.