I burned myself pretty badly two weeks ago, and it wasn’t healing as expected, thanks to my stupid, sensitive body. I was reacting to everything: the antibiotic ointments, the bandaid adhesive, the nonstick pad, etc.

At my husband’s insistence, I saw a doctor. And at my doctor’s insistence, I saw a wound care specialist.

I was expecting an uneventful visit to the Bothin Burn Center this morning, but was surprised by a flood of thoughts and emotions as I waited for the staff to process me as a new patient:

• What constant stress the staff must be under.
• These poor folks in the waiting room, who had real issues that needed attention.
• How absurd it was for me to take up the doctor’s time, which could be used for treating serious burn victims.
• How stupid it was of me to be so careless, causing me to waste all this time and money.
• And worst of all: What if my carelessness had caused me to burn someone else… or a child? The thought alone brought immediate tears to my eyes, and the concern was later exacerbated when I saw a toddler, cautiously but curiously exploring the hallway with her parents, wearing a compression garment (to apply pressure over healing burns and grafts) around her teeny, adorable face.

But as usual, the bad thoughts brought good ones — details that I can never take for granted:

• How lucky that my loved ones and I are in reasonably good health.
• How fortunate I am to have the healthcare and resources to take care of any issues that do arise.