Burn Survivor Story: Ron Thompson

(Courtesy of the Phoenix Society and Steve Lobel, author of "Recognition Beyond Burned: Portraits of Survival, Rebirth & Hope")

Until the night of February 22, 1984 , I was an average 16-year-old. I was in high school. I liked playing sports and hanging out with friends. On that night, I went riding around with my girlfriend’s brother. We met some of his friends and decided to drag race. We passed a slow-moving vehicle on a curve and couldn’t see the oncoming pickup truck. We hit head on. The engine was pushed into my lap, breaking my right leg near my hip and trapping me in the car, which then caught fire. I put my hands up to protect my face. It got so hot the dashboard melted and dripped onto my leg. The flames were getting me. The rescue people had to wait until the fire was out to free me with the Jaws of Life. By this time I had been burned over thirty-five percent of my body. I had third- and fourth-degree burns on my chest and back, on the right side of my face and head, and on my right arm and left hand. I lost part of the fingers on my left hand and some vision in my right eye. The fire took my right ear and my right arm just below the elbow. I also lost the rest of my childhood. I spent three months in a hospital, three months in rehab, and twenty-one-years-and-counting undergoing more than a hundred surgeries and working to recover physically and emotionally.

It’s a hard road, but I’m glad I survived. I’m married, and have four children and a grandson. I’m still trying to get the truck-driving job of my dreams. For the most part I lead a normal life. Dealing with depression is an ongoing concern. For many years I felt very lonely, struggling with how others saw and accepted me. Along with the support of my family, friends and community, it’s been very important for me to have a connection with the Phoenix Society and others who have been burned. I continue to feel the stares from those who are curious, those who are shocked, and those who are scared by what they see. I try to use these opportunities to educate others in understanding and compassion.

My name is Ron Thompson.

Burn Survivor Story: Winson Chen

(Courtesy of the Phoenix Society and Steve Lobel, author of "Recognition Beyond Burned: Portraits of Survival, Rebirth & Hope")

I met my challenge driving home from Atlanta on October 26, 2002. It came in the form of a high-speed collision with an eighteenwheeler. I am unsure who was at fault. I burned alive for fifteen minutes before the fire truck arrived. I was rushed to the hospital and announced dead on arrival, but the burn unit revived me and kept me in a morphine coma for two months.

My body was asleep, but I lived in my dreams. I went to school, visited my parents, dated my girlfriend; everything felt real. I imagined I went west with a gang of credit cards, charged mansions, yachts and parties, and then skipped out on the bill. The cops chased me down and sent me to jail. I awoke to my father telling me it had all been a figment of my imagination. I was confused and frightened. My pain was indescribably intense. After much explaining from loved ones, I slowly became aware of my situation.

I was mad—mad at the truck driver, mad at the world, mad at God. How had I been named the delegate to suffer? I contemplated suicide daily. The hospital staff had to tie my hands down. Then the denial kicked in. I thought, if I could dream in color for two months and believe it was real, who’s to say that being here like this wasn’t just another chapter? This wasn’t happening to me. I still dream of one day awakening from the nightmare into my old life.

Embarrassment overwhelmed me. I couldn’t do anything for myself. In the hospital, I had to be walked, fed and wiped. At home, my mother had to bathe, clothe and bandage me. Then depression took its turn. I wasn’t a bad-looking guy before the accident. True, appearances aren’t everything, but they are something. We more easily accept those we perceive as aesthetically pleasing than those we see as deformed or challenged.

I had to take my grief by the horns. Complaining changes nothing. I am alive, I have family and friends who care for me, and I have purpose. I still get looks of distaste and bewilderment, but I don’t hold individuals accountable for their responses. It’s human nature to look at what’s different. Everyone worries about what to say to survivors, but often it’s not about what you say. Just being there and listening can help more than you expect.

My name is Winson Chen.

Burn Survivor Story: Frank McGonagle.

(Courtesy of the Phoenix Society and Steve Lobel, author of "Recognition Beyond Burned: Portraits of Survival, Rebirth & Hope")

Today I’m one of the luckiest guys alive. I’ve been married for nearly thirty years to my lovely wife, Arlene. I have five children and eleven grandchildren. I’m co-owner of a successful television production business. Life is very good. But it hasn’t always been this way.

On February 18, 1966, I stopped at a light in my little TR4 sports car about three miles from home. Suddenly a speeding driver came out of nowhere, rear-ending me and setting my car on fire. In an instant I lost my hair, scalp and ears as well as skin from other parts of my body. But these losses were small compared to my real loss. My wife of twelve years, Charlotte, mother of our four young children and our unborn child of seven months, died in the exploding wreck. If it weren’t for the courage of three young men who pulled me from the flaming car, I too would have perished.

After about three months in a local hospital I returned home to care for my four children. The next few years found me back in the hospital for some ten reconstructive surgeries. Eventually life became somewhat normal again.

Nevertheless, for a long time afterward I was haunted by the idea that I did not rescue my wife. I realized it didn’t make sense. I was on fire and didn’t even know what had hit us, but somehow I felt guilty for not getting her out before the car exploded.

While these horrible guilt feelings lessened over time, every now and then they would rise to torture me. That was until 2004, when I acted on advice I heard at two Phoenix Society World Burn Congresses, from Dr. Fred Luskin’s inspiring talks on forgiveness. His message stimulated me to seek out the man who rear-ended me in 1966 and forgive him. We met in a local church and talked for only fifteen minutes. He told me he was so racked with guilt he had never driven again in all those years.

After that, I came to the realization that if I could forgive the man who killed my wife, I could also forgive myself. The weight of my guilt lifted and I have not felt a twinge of it since.

My name is Frank McGonagle.

Burn Survivor Story: Volunteer Fireman Brad Johnson

(Courtesy of the Phoenix Society and Steve Lobel, author of "Recognition Beyond Burned: Portraits of Survival, Rebirth & Hope")

In September of 1991, a lightning strike at a crude-oil site caused volunteer fireman Brad Johnson to receive eighty-five percent third-degree burns. The road to recovery has been a long one, but now, with a little patience, he can do the regular, everyday things that give him a feeling of self-support. He hunts and goes fishing again and builds furniture. He has a positive attitude toward life. "Everything I hold dear happened after I was burned. I met my wife and have been married for eleven years and have four wonderful kids. My advice to others is to hold yourself high—it will project out to others. Anything can be done if you set your mind to it. Never give up," states Brad.