I Once was Blind

“Then Ananias went to the house and entered it. Placing his hands on Saul, he said, “Brother Saul, the Lord – Jesus, who appeared to you as you were coming here – has sent me so that you may see again and be filled with the Holy Spirit.’ Immediately, something like scales fell from Saul’s eyes, and he could see again. He got up and was baptized, and after taking some food, he regained his strength.” 

Acts 9:17-19

I remember learning about Steven Johnson’s syndrome in pharmacology class, hoping that I would never have to see it in real life. Steven Johnson’s syndrome is a severe reaction to certain medications, including anti-retroviral medications for HIV/AIDS. The face, neck, and upper chest become covered in thick, crusty sores. The sores represent the dying and peeling of the skin, which is also occurring in the mucous membranes inside the person’s body. So basically, what you see on the outside skin is occurring on the inside as well.

Although I was familiar with Steven Johnson’s syndrome, I could not be prepared for really seeing it on my patient. When I first met him, I couldn’t even tell what he looked like. His face was covered in thick dark lumps of crust. Black, rough scales covered his eyes so heavily that he could not open them at all. His nostrils were crusted shut with the sores, forcing him to breathe through the small slit that he could make with his mouth. His lips were three times their normal size, but only because they were thickly encrusted with cracking black dead skin.  His mouth bled bright red blood where the cracks in his lips were widening from his attempt to breathe and drink. As horrible as it looked, I was thankful that he couldn’t breathe through his nose. That way, he couldn’t smell the foul odor of his own sores.

I didn’t even know his name because he couldn’t tell me.

I gathered some gauze, a tongue blade, and a basin filled with water. I stood over his bed and gently touched his should to let him no I was there, but he did not respond. The sight and stench were so horrible, but there was one thing that kept me going. As I looked at his face, I saw the face of Jesus. I slowly and gently began to treat his sores as if this precious man were Jesus.

I wrapped a gauze around my finger, dipped it in the cool water, and placed it softly on his eyes. The thick, dry crusts did not absorb any of the water at all. I patted and gently rubbed, but his eye lids felt like the burnt bottom of a pan. Then, taking another wet gauze, I wrapped it around the tongue blade to cleanse his mouth. I barely slipped the blade into his mouth slit when fresh red blood dripped out of his mouth. I almost cried when his head just slightly twitched in pain. Persistently, I used a few more tongue blades to cleanse the dried blood that had collected in the corners of his mouth. I saturated the swabs in order to drop some cool water on his thirsty tongue.

Then, I added some hydrogen peroxide to my basin and used the rest of the gauze to wipe the skin of his face, ears, neck, and chest. The peroxide bubbled and turned his face white, but still the crusts would not budge. Although they looked as though they could flake right off, they solidly stuck to his skin.

As I dabbed, I prayed and prayed.  When Jesus healed people, all he had to do was touch them. I wiped and wished I had that power. I wished I could have just touched that man on the shoulder and caused all of his dead crusts to slough off. But then again, if that happened, people would worship me. So I prayed for Jesus to work a miracle by the touch of his hand. I prayed for Him to heal this man in a way that was beyond my ability as a nurse. That way, people would know the healing was not by my hands, but by the hands of Christ.

When I finished my care, I patted his shoulder, but I still received no response.

The next day, I gathered my supplies to give wound care once again. Washcloths had been placed on his eyes overnight to soak and soften the scales. When I removed the cloths and tried to remove some of the crust, only a scant amount flaked off onto the gauze. He fluttered his eyes. “Did you see that?” Mrs. Patty said. “He tried to open his eyes!” He still could not open them, but he was trying.

After I washed his right ear, I went to work on his left ear. As soon as I dropped a few drops of hydrogen peroxide on his left ear, he slightly turned his head to the side. “He is responding!"

For a patient with HIV/AIDS, healing is very difficult due to their immunocompromised state. For a patient like him, I wondered how long it would take to heal such aweful sores with so little of an immune system. I worried about infection. So one more time, I prayed for a miracle. I prayed for God to open the eyes of the blind. As I placed the cool rags back on his eyes to keep them moist, I knew God would answer. Tomorrow, I believed he would see.

The next day, I worked on a different ward, but I took a break to check on him. Anna was caring for him, so I asked her for a report. “Have you found out his name?” I asked as we walked down the outside corridor toward the male ward.  “Yeah, he said Antike,” she replied.

I was shocked. “He was able to tell you his name?”

“Yes,” she said. “Look, there he is right there.” She pointed to a man walking out the door just as we were about to enter.

My mouth dropped open. “That’s him? Walking around?” I knew it was him because of the crusts still on his face, but I still couldn’t believe it! His eyes were open and he was walking around!

Later that day, I asked Anna to let me help give his skin care. I introduced myself to Antike, for he was seeing me for the first time even though I had been by his bedside the past two days. This time as I washed, more and more flakes fell from his skin. His eyes were almost completely clean. The scales had fallen from His eyes. I thought about Saul when he was blinded on the road to Damascus. Scales fell from his eyes, too, after his conversion, allowing him to see with eyes of faith for the first time. I pray the same for Antike.

Using a Q-tip for the first time, we ventured to unplug his nose. I dribbled some hydrogen peroxide in his nostrils while Anna attempted to insert the Q-tip.  We both jumped when he made a horrible nasal sound. At first we thought he was in pain or choking, but then we realized what he was doing.

“He is trying to blow his nose!” Our worry turned into smiles and small giggles as we continued to remove small pieces of dead tissue from his nose. He helped us, blowing as best as he could. Soon, he was making small whistles with the little amount of air that was passing through his nares.

All Jesus had to do was touch the eyes of the blind, and they were healed. One time, he even used his own spit and mud to cleanse the eyes. One time, he used hydrogen peroxide and wet gauze in an African hospital.

Not only did Jesus give sight again to Antike, but He gave sight to my blind eyes. He opened my eyes to see Jesus in the face of suffering Antike. Instead of noticing  the black and blood and odor, I noticed the cry of a hurting man. Instead of being repulsed, my heart went out to him. The Lord gave me the sight of compassion, and I saw the face of Jesus in a place where it might be least expected. The compassion of Christ empowered me to see something more. I once was blind, but now I see.