Hearts for Medicine: The Work of Canterlot Hospital

"Fire of Hope, Part One" by Nurse Tenderheart

My name is Tenderheart for a reason. When I was small, I loved all kinds of creatures. No animal could be harmed while I was near, unless somepony wanted a good bawling out. I would always cry when I was too late to help any creature. As I grew older, I never lost my love for living things, instead becoming a sucker for sad songs and romance stories. I suppose all of those are part of the career I seemed destined for, though it's not always easy. 

Like today, for instance, I was just finishing changing the bandages on a pony's leg when I was paged. An emergency had just arrived for the burn unit of Canterlot Hospital. I raced to the scene and arrived as the patient was rushed in on a stretcher. The angry, blistering colors of third-degree burns marked the body of a once tangerine colored stallion. He had a respirator on, probably suffering from smoke inhalation as well. 

We took the stallion into a room and checked his breathing. The respirator was doing its job for now, but we did begin to monitor him very closely. I hooked him up to an IV and got him some pain medication. Those burns must hurt like nothing else ever could. Then I began to apply a topical medication to the patient, while being told the specifics about the pony himself. His name was Deep Flame, a firefighter. The burns that may scar his body forever had been received when he had entered a burning building to save a fellow pony. That pony had escaped already, without the knowledge of the firefighters outside. It was Deep Flame, not the homeowner, that needed rescuing from the blaze. 

Firefighters and nurses share a common thread, as do policeponies, since our job is to help others. However, I believe that each takes a special kind of pony. I don't think I could ever have the courage to go into a burning building, and I'm sure Deep Flame doesn't particularly care for dealing with sick ponies. That was my job. 

Deep Flame was stable, but I was beginning to think that his burns might warrant a skin graft. The tissue was so deeply damaged in places that it was almost certainly irreparable. His shoulders and back might offer the best option for a graft, but even that might be too little to help with so many burns. Deep Flame had apparently fallen on his back, exposing his face, chest, and legs to the fire. He technically had six burns, but they had sort of melded together in places. To have any chance of preventing him from being permanently disfigured, we would have to be very fast, whatever course of action we decided to take. At this point, Dr. Horse was consulted for the next step. He decided against a skin graft, preferring not to risk anesthesia with a possibly traumatized pony. Instead, we continued to apply medication and bandages, taking special care with the sensitive skin. 

At last we were done wrapping. Deep Flame slept fitfully, bandaged like a mummy on the hospital bed. I scheduled a visit from Nurse Snowheart for the mental part of his treatment, cleaned up the room, and then left him to his slumber. Only time would tell if Deep Flame's wounds would heal, but we all surely hoped that they would.