A helping hand

Looking back at my life, I see that I've been fortunate. I've been given opportunities and choices that most people only dream of. I wasn't born poor, physically handicapped or with any horrible diseases that would make every day a struggle for me.

Unfortunately there are people out there who were born into such desperate circumstance. Due to no fault of their own, every day is a struggle for them. Some of the simplest tasks that most people take for granted can be physical torture for many of these unfortunate people.

Recently I decided to start giving a little bit back.

I know that's a bit of a cliche, but I don't care. The truth is that I don't just do this to help others, I do this to make me feel better about myself.

A few years ago, if I met somebody who said the above paragraph to me, I would have laughed in their face, but to add to my growing cliches, I guess I've grown.

My growth spurt didn't come in a slow realisation over time, but through the inspiration of one story. It was about a woman who, without any kind of medical training, used to volunteer in hospitals during World War 2. Every day she was faced with unimaginable horror of seeing what bullets and artillery would do to the human body. Young men, some still only teenagers were unable to do the simplest of tasks and that's when she realised that she didn't need to be a doctor to help these injured soldiers. She could help them in her own way.

She spent most of her volunteering hours in the burns unit where men were left for weeks on end wrapped up in bandages like forgotten Egyptian Emperors. The only healing available to them was time and so they would just lie there, as still as possible, because even the slightest movement caused intense pain against their blistered skin.

There were of course nurses who would be there to change bandages and to help them with bedpans, but this Florence Nightingale of her generation was able to recognise that young men who had both arms bandaged needed more than just new bandages and clean bedpans to go on living. There was no Sky Sports available and even newspaper sports sections were limited, due to many of the teams fighting in the war. So she had to entertain them the one way she knew how. She rolled up her sleeves and she wanked them off. A true story of inspiration.

So I have volunteered at a burns unit at a local hospital in order to help in ways I know I can. Of course I know that men won't need my services as Sky Sports is available and most sports teams aren't fighting in any major war at the moment. But women generally don't care for sport or understand war, but they undoubtedly have needs. Needs I will satisfy. I haven't been able to help yet, as many the women who are there at the moment are either fat or have burns on parts of their body other than their arms and hands, which I think is gross.

But I wait, for a good looking model with burns to her hands to come in so that I can selflessly finger her.