Homeopathy To The Rescue In A Burn Victim
* * Please note that the pictures in this article, and the graphic description of this young man’s injury, can be upsetting to sensitive or young readers. Reader discretion advised.
The sky was overcast and the air balmy and damp on that day in early January. It was warmer and wetter than normal for this time of year. I was in my second story bedroom, having just finished a long distance phone conversation with my mom when—BOOM—an explosion outside. I dashed to the window. My husband had been working in the excavator. Had he hit an unknown gas line? I peered out cautiously, heard momentary quiet and saw stillness. Suddenly my husband, Tom, was sprinting past the barn, shouting so loud it seemed like he was right below my window. “Drop and roll!”, he yelled, “Drop and roll!” And then he was out of sight. My God, someone’s on fire.
I ran out of my bedroom and flew down the staircase, focused on the office where the remedy cabinet resides in the closet. My 13 year old son, Adam, caught me on my way—“What’s wrong, Mom?”, he asked with urgency.
I was flinging the cabinet doors open, hands beginning to tremble. Breathe, think, breathe, heartbeat slow down. I pinched the vial of Aconite 1M between my fingers, tossed a pellet under my tongue and thrust the tube out to him. “Someone’s on fire,” I said. “Bring this outside to Dad. Hurry. And take one yourself if you need it.” I didn’t know who was on fire. I didn’t know how bad it was. God, please don’t let it be bad.
The sandy haired boy disappeared out the door. I’m not sure I even remember seeing him go. My eyes bolted back to the trays in my cabinet. For what seemed like an eternity, my brain was slow, tangled, dumbfounded. Then at once I was grounded. Arnica 1M, Cantharis 200C, Causticum 200C. I pulled them from the trays and moved into the kitchen for glass jars. I filled them with a cup of water, placed a pellet of each in the water, marked them, and raced outside. I didn’t know what the situation was. I wasn’t sure what I would see. Who was hurt? And how bad were the injuries?
I ran out into the mud and wet snow barefoot, noting that the new white sweater pants I was wearing would inevitably be ruined. It’s curious how the brain copes. (My husband would later tell me it was about two minutes from the time of the explosion to the time I was at their side.) I could see them in the garden near the water spigot. My husband and our oldest adult son, Simon (who lives with his wife in an apartment in our barn), were kneeling in the mud beside Ike, our 15 year old son. He lay on his stomach in the muck, bare from the waist down except for his underwear. Tom, a critical care paramedic, had worked in EMS for almost two decades and Simon had been an EMT for 4 years. Simon had his blaze orange ditch bag next to him in the mud, its zipper flayed open. Also an EMT myself, I noted that they had already cleaned and wrapped his thighs in burn paper.
“We put out the fire and rinsed the burns for a minute,” Tom reported. I nodded, knowing how freezing that water must have been, and succussed the jar of Cantharis against the palm of my hand, absentmindedly. “Have you all had Aconite?” I asked. I noted Ike was unusually calm. He wasn’t shivering yet and didn’t seem to be in severe pain. Everyone nodded. I gave Ike a dose of Cantharis 200C plussed. “We need to get him inside where it’s warm. What happened?”, I pressed.
Tom glanced at Ike, incredulous. “He was lighting a burn pile. A gas can exploded in his hand. I was working, heard an explosion and wondered what on earth I hit when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement and flames. I turned and watched Ike running toward the sauna building, his pants on fire.”
It could have been so much worse…
Tom and Simon drew a sheet from Samuel’s ditch bag under Ike. Ike managed to wriggle onto it with our help and we lifted him together, the three of us at the corners, then coordinated our strides to get him into the house. Tom shoved the dining room chairs and table out into the buffet. We laid Ike on the floor.
“We need to get him warm,” I said. “We don’t want him going into shock.” I noticed Ike was beginning to shiver. Tom brought a space heater, turned it on, and placed it next to Ike. The boy hadn’t made a sound. He’d been very quiet. He stared at the ceiling, his mess of blond hair partially covering his eyes.
“I need to assess how bad the burns are,” Tom said. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to take off your underwear.
My daughter-in-law, Maggie, and I grabbed a large blanket, turned our backs and held up the blanket to preserve Ike’s dignity from the rest of our family who gaped, concerned, in the entryway. I encouraged them to go into the family room, find something to do. It will be okay.
Behind me, Ike’s breathing was audible, quickened and forced. He was starting to feel the pain. It didn’t take long for my husband to give the all-clear and his assessment. I dropped the blanket and turned around. Tom had covered Ike with a sheet from his waist to his knees and Ike was clearly shaking. I knelt down by his head and gave him another dose of Aconite 1M.
“He has second degree burns. And there’s one area I’m not sure of. I’m going to call Dr. Rand and see if I can FaceTime him. We may need to go in.” Tom turned and went out the front door. I can see him pacing on the porch, his eyes trained on his phone.
My heart sank. I looked at Ike—strain on his face—and then to the heater by his side. I grabbed it, told him I was moving the heater to just between his knees. At this point I wasn’t consciously thinking about what to do. My instincts and training as a homeopath took over. I placed the heater just at the opening of the blanket. Thermal burn treatment—like cures like—the heat blowing onto the burn would cause intensified pain. But in the long run, it would decrease pain and speed healing time. Ike instantly started to squirm. “What are you feeling?”, I asked, gently. A tear rolled toward his ear. “It stings.”
I gave him another dose of Cantharis, placed it in his hand and told him to take it as often as he needed to. Over the next few seconds the pain intensified. He confessed that the Cantharis was not helping. I handed him the Causticum 200C plussed, whacking the bottom of the jar and helped him sip it through the straw Maggie had brought. I saw his tense body relax and sink into the floor. Stick with Causticum for now. I know that in acute situations the remedy picture can rapidly change, and often more than one remedy is needed.
I left the heat on him for about 4 minutes, which is definitely longer than I would normally. Ike began writhing again, breathing hard, his forehead sweating with the agony. I told him I was going to remove the heat. As soon as I did, he melted into the floor. The pain has subsided considerably, as expected after thermal burn treatment.
Tom returned and we decided it was best to take him in. The burns were worse on Ike’s left leg; the entire inner thigh was streaked with wrinkled skin, gray and white, and large blisters were forming. The inner thigh of his right leg fared better, with only a patch the size of a baseball and rising blisters. Amazingly, the swelling of the skin at the margins and on the injuries was minimal.
We are going to the hospital. I gathered up a case of remedies, everything I could think of—Arsenicum 200C, Hypericum 200C, Calendula 30C, Cantharis 1M, Causticum 1M, Arnica 1M. Because we live in the country and ambulances are at least 40 minutes out, we bundled Ike up, carried him on the sheet to the car and loaded him into the back. I climbed in with him, giving him remedies along the way. I was worried about the hospital, the care Ike may receive there, and if they’d transfer him to the nearest burn unit in Portland or Seattle. I took another dose of Aconite.
Tom had called ahead to the ER, telling them Ike’s age and birthdate and the extent of his injuries. We pulled into the ER entrance after what seemed like the longest 15 minute drive into town we’ve ever had. Tom had asked for a gurney to be brought out. The staff met us with a wheelchair. He’d get better care at home, I thought to myself. Finally, a gurney. The male nurse asked Ike what he was holding in his hand.
The jar of Causticum. My heart paused for a moment longer than normal between beats. Ike told the nurse to ask his mom. The nurse looked at me quizzically. “It’s a homeopathic remedy, but for your purposes it is inert,” I said, probably with more edge in my voice than I should have.
“Don’t assume all of us are like that,” the nurse scolded. “My mom used to give me remedies. Nux vomica. I know what they are and how they work.” I was astonished. Maybe, just maybe, here is a nurse who can understand the kind of care we want…?
Inside, the Emergency Room was quiet. Two nurses and the doctor looked over Ike’s burns, constantly asking about his pain level. Ike was calm and relaxed. He said his pain was maybe barely a 2? They didn’t believe him, but I knew he wasn’t in pain. Any casual observer could see he wasn’t gritting through it or toughing it out. But somehow that escaped their minds.
Tom, Simon, and I stayed with Ike. He was never alone. No one should ever be a patient in a hospital without an advocate at their side. We waited.
Four hours later we were home, tired, but grateful. Against what I would have desired, they lanced Ike’s blisters and removed the dead skin in order to assess how deep the tissue damage was. Dummies, I thought. The body is doing that for a reason. No wonder burns get so badly infected.
The doctor was amazed. “How long was he on fire for?” he asked. “About 15 seconds,” Tom said. 15 seconds must have felt like a fiery eternity.
Thank God it was only bad second degree burns and perhaps a few small patches of third degree burns. They sent pictures to Seattle and we waited for hours for their feedback. He didn’t need to be transferred. We could take him home and care for his burns there. They gave us petroleum and antibiotic infused bandages and instructed us to change them every 24 hours in the shower. We’re going to use other methods at home… Would he like a tetanus shot? NO.
The doctors prescribed exercises to keep the skin supple as he healed and warned that if he did not do them, his range of motion would be permanently affected.
We had a little trouble getting ready for discharge. Apparently Ike hadn’t eaten much all day and when they got him up to help him put on the loose sweatpants we brought, he fainted. I wished I had packed some Bioplasma. I asked for some juice and crackers. When the nurse brought in the snacks, Ike looked at me questioningly. He didn’t want to eat any food he knew was full of processed junk.
“Eat so we can go home.” I ordered, kindly. Ike devoured two packages of graham crackers and one apple juice. His color improved. Finally, we all headed out the door and home. Somehow the trip back to our house felt even longer than the rushed trip to the hospital.
“We’ll leave the bandages on for tonight,” Tom said. I knew he could tell I wasn’t wild about using them. I agreed, exhausted in every corner of my body and mind. It could have been so much worse… It could have been his face, his torso, and genitals. Death. I’m grateful for the Mercy our family has received.
Initially, I didn’t have a formulated plan for how I would treat Ike’s burns. I knew Ike needed to push the fluids—we didn’t want him getting dehydrated. His body would need those extra fluids to heal the burns. I made sure he was sleeping on his grounding mat nightly or whenever he rested. I knew the Causticum was working well, and I had increased the potency to a 1M but still administered it in water. Intermittently, when his pain was shooting and nervy, I gave him Hypericum 200C, also in water. I consulted Dr. Manuel Mateu Ratera’s excellent book, First Aid with Homeopathy. I’m always amazed by how much I learn in new situations that I didn’t learn in school–how Arsenicum album is indicated in severe burns where the burn is extensive and most painful. I also gleaned from his book that I could use a 1% dilution or a dilution of Hypericum 15C (I used 30C) in 200-300 ml of saline topically to help heal the wounds. I knew salt was our friend and I had already made a simple solution of 1 teaspoon sea salt dissolved in 1 quart boiled water. I added the Hypericum 30C pellet and placed the mix in a spray bottle. A friend and colleague had recommended saline applications to dress the burns, but I was concerned about the dressing sticking, and re-injuring the wounds every time we changed the them.
I scoured all my books. There had to be something in my library that could offer a solution. The solution was found in Rachel Weaver’s book, Be Your Own Doctor. She suggested changing the dressings every 12 hours and using an Amish burn cream called B&W Salve. I scraped through the internet to find this ointment and finally found a supplier who would overnight it. I also ordered a small booklet about how the Amish treat burns and tried to modify the protocol to what we had on hand. A dear friend, who is a nurse midwife, brought over a quart jar of colloidal silver water. Within a day the burn salve came. I was thrilled with the ingredients: wild-crafted honey, lanolin, olive oil, wheat germ oil, wild-crafted marshmallow root, organic aloe vera gel, wild-crafted wormwood, organic comfrey root, wild-crafted white oak bark, wild-crafted lobelia inflata, vegetable glycerin, wild crafted beeswax, and myrrh.
For the first several weeks, we changed Ike’s dressings every 12 hours. He would shower and gently remove the previous bandages. Then we’d carefully pat dry the area, spray it with the colloidal silver water, and let that air dry. Next, we’d warm the B&W salve in our hands and apply it thickly over the burns. The Amish traditionally use burdock leaves or lettuce to cover the salve, but we didn’t have access to fresh burdock—it being the dead of winter—and my son didn’t want to mess with lettuce leaves. So we instead placed ABD pads sprayed with the saline and hypericum solution to cover the salve, and then we wrapped his legs with either co-band or elastic bandages. Once the skin was healed enough, we no longer needed to use the colloidal silver spray and Ike discontinued spraying his bandages with saline and hypericum periodically to keep them moist.
Throughout, Ike continued to take Hypericum 200C plussed, Causticum 1M, and occasionally Cantharis 1M as needed. He continued to do his exercises, though I confess I had to hound him from time to time and remind him to walk as naturally as possible and without a limp.
We are two months out from his accident now, and he is healing well. He changes the dressing only every 24 hours and we are waiting for his skin to heal more with Calendula 30C before we begin trying to heal the scars; I am completely optimistic he will have few or none at all.
Sprinkled through these past few months, I have pondered how other families would have handled this situation. How miraculous that this happened to our family—one who was equipped to the best of our current abilities. I’m full of astonishment and wonder for near catastrophic misses, the protection of God, and the wisdom and experience to handle emergencies. I am especially thankful for the training our family has had, both in the conventional medical and holistic healing worlds.
I’m grateful Tom was outside, heard the explosion, and quickly helped Ike put his flaming body out. I am obliged to my son, Simon, who heard the explosion from his house, the shouting outside, quickly grabbed his ditch bag, and sprinted out to the garden to help. I’m humbled by the years of homeopathic training—both in school and in life—that I have received. Many days I feel like I’m still in the first grade of understanding the beautiful healing modicum of homeopathy and I am honored by the riches of the piles of books with their wisdom that grace the shelves of my office bookcases. I am, like a child, grateful that my body and instincts took over and remembered thermal burn treatment even when my conscious mind did not.
I am bewildered by the help and advice of my friend and colleague, Lori, my nurse midwife friend, Marti, and the healing abilities our bodies possess. And most importantly, for Ike, who started 2024 with a bang. May his healing path be whole and complete.
*Names have been changed to protect privacy.
