After dinner the telephone rang and it was for me. It was Ray, by brother’s friend and he asked me to go to the Homecoming Dance with him which I of course accepted. It was a rather late invitation, but I had a date. I knew Ray and he was a nice guy. We would more than likely have a great time together. Now all I had to do was find a dress, and with less than one week left before the dance.

        My boyfriend and I had just broken up a few weeks earlier. His name was Steve. He was a year older than I and had just graduated from Whitmer the year before. We decided that it would probably be better off for both of us if we weren’t tied down and were able to date other people. It would have been to hard with one of us still in high school and the other not. It wasn’t that we didn’t get along, or anything like that, it was just that we were trying to be realistic about our relationship. We were very young and trying to be smart. We knew that we were not ready for any big commitments at this point in our lives.

        My friend Tiffany and I had made plans to go to the game together. Around seven o’clock she walked over since she only lived a half a block away. The weather was quite chilly out. I couldn’t believe it since it had been so warm lately. I decided to wear my wool Cheerleading coat. That knew that it would certainly keep me warm enough. I left my gloves and scarf at home though. I didn’t really think they were necessary even though it was cold. With all the pushing and shoving that goes on at the games, I would have just ended up losing them.

        My parents took us to the game because neither one of us had our drivers license’s. They usually went to all of the games anyway and they told us that afterward if we needed a ride home that we would know where their car would be parked. We of course were planning on going to McDonalds, or a party, like everyone else did after the games and would find a ride home with one of friends. Normally I wouldn’t go to the football game with Tiffany. Her and I really are not that close, we are more like neighborhood friends, but when we are together we have a lot of fun. Cheryl was my best friend and I would usually gone with her, but she had her brothers wedding rehearsal to go to. She said that she might show up at the game around half time, so I should look for her.

        Well I didn’t see Cheryl at the game. I didn’t see Ray either. My brother Mike told me that Ray was working at Kroger’s and that when he got off of work he would be picking him up at the stadium. I was glad. I would more than likely run into him later that evening. I thought that Ray was a good-looking guy and I wanted to spend some time with him before the dance. He was a junior, but that didn’t really matter. I needed someone to help keep my mind off of Steve. I really thought that he was seeing another girl now and I can honestly say I was a little bit jealous.

        Tiffany and I socialized a lot with our friends. Walking around and talking and cheering. We had a really good time. It was spread around that a senior girl from Whitmer was having a party after the game. It was an "open" party, so that meant that anyone could attend. Tiffany and I decided that, this was where the majority of people would go, so that is what we wanted to do. There were only a few minutes left in the fourth quarter of the game and we were losing 3-0. We had been talking to some guys, Pat a senior, and Scott a junior. Tiffany knew them fairly well so she asked them if they were going to the party, and if so, could they give us a ride. They said they didn’t know where it was, but wanted to go. I knew where the street was so they agreed to take us along with them. We then walked out the back gates to Pat’s car.

       His car was very small, but cute. A red Opal Cadet. He had just had a lot of bodywork done to it along with a new paint job. Pat seemed to be very proud of his car since he did most of the work on it himself at his father’s body shop. Tiffany and I got into the back seat and the guys were in the front. Pat was of course driving.

        Whitmer Drive was jammed with cars from the stadium parking lot and I thought that it would take us forever to get out. We were however parked pretty close to an exit, so Pat made a left hand turn out onto Alexis Rd. and we departed quickly. This was the opposite direction from which the party was. I told him so, and he said that Scott and him had toilet papered a friend’s house before the game and they wanted to ride by to see their masterpiece before heading to the party.

       When we stopped in front of the house they had papered, Pat turned the motor off. The guys got out of the car for a few minutes, probably to talk privately about us girls, and when they returned the car was restarted. The headlights and the radio were not working so they put in a new fuse under the dashboard, and we then headed for the party. I never did pay any attention to see if the radio or lights were working again, I was just in a hurry to get to the party. We headed east on Alexis Rd, then took a right on Douglas Rd. and started looking for a side street named Lark on which the party was located. We were not speeding or driving recklessly or anything like that because we were looking for this street. I knew it was on the left-hand side of Douglas Rd.

       We found the street easily and stopped to make a left-hand turn, waiting just a few seconds for a car to pass. Just as this oncoming car was about to go by ours, we were hit hard from behind, and the impact sent our car into the path of this oncoming car. This car hit us also, and our car burst into flames. As our vehicle was hit, I flew forward and my head hit the seat in front of me. I was not wearing my seat belt. When I opened my eyes the whole car was one huge inferno. I screamed, but I knew that the only way out was to go through the burning flames. I don’t remember much about escaping, I just remember that the car was burning and the seats were burning, and I couldn’t see out of the windows. For a moment I thought it was a nightmare, but when I felt the heat and stinging, I knew that this was real. I had to get out. I then thought of God. I thought I was going to die. All of this happened in just a few seconds. It smelled of burning rubber and gasoline something awful, and it was then that I realized that I myself was burning too. I dove out of the two-door car with my hands covering my face. I believe that Scott left the door open after he freed himself of the wreckage. I hit the asphalt road and did the smartest thing I could have done. At least I thought so at the time. I started rolling. I didn’t think about anything else, just rolling. As I rolled the burning didn’t seem to stop it only intensified. You see the gas tank had ruptured and there was gasoline everywhere. The street was even burning.

        The others got out of the car before me. I believe that Pat was first. Slipping in the gasoline as he was escaping from the burning hell, he burned his hands. He then looked around for the rest of us. Tiffany and Scott’s coats were in flames and they ripped them off and headed away from the fire for safety. Pat saw me rolling and came to me. Screaming, yelling and cursing for me to stand up, I did so, but I just stood there. Being so scared and frightened that was all I could do. I just froze (odd word to use considering I was on fire). He tried getting my zipper down but was unsuccessful, it was just to hot. He also tried ripping my coat off of me but the heavy blazing wool make it impossible. It was then that some stranger came over and the two of them tackled me to the ground and extinguished the flames. I was taken away from the fire to someone’s yard, where I then laid down in the grass. Pat ran across the street and I was left alone. I lay silent on my back in a world that seemed like a horrible nightmare. I could still see the car and I could hear the sounds of it crackling and burning. I smelled the horrible fumes it was giving off, and the sight of all of this was something like you would only see in the movies, not in real life. It was like a glowing out of control bonfire. So unrealistic, but so very real in the same sense. I kept hearing the sounds of screeching tires and the car crashing in my head over and over again. Looking at the car I was so surprised that I had even escaped at all.

       As I lay in the cold October air, with half of my body burned, I was glad to be alive but wondered how soon before I would die. I wanted to look at my hands but was so scared at what I might see. But this was something that I knew I had to do. I took a look and they were black. So black in fact that I had difficulty seeing them in the dark night. The charred skin looked like charcoal, or a burnt marshmallow and was rolled back to my wrists. When I moved my hands the skin fell off of them, like ashes, onto my chest. My face was tight and I could barely move my mouth or keep my eyes open. I of course could not see my face, but had a feeling that it looked exactly like my hands. In terror, panic and shock I wondered how much longer I was going to live. I found it difficult to breathe and was so incredibly scared that my time to leave this world had come.

        Onlookers from area homes were all outside in no time. You know what it is like when there is some kind of accident. Everyone’s curiosity gets to him or her and they want to see what all of the commotion is about. The sound of the collision alone would have attracted anyone’s attention, let alone the huge blazing automobile right in the middle of a busy street. It wasn’t long before there were more and more people at the scene, and more of them crowding around me. A lot of my classmates from the football game were en-route to the party, so of course they were all there very shortly after the crash. There were literally hundreds of spectators at the site and it seemed more like a sideshow at the circus, than the horrible catastrophe that it really was.

       I was being asked questions like "Are you okay?" Did I actually look like I was okay? I could barely talk; my face was so tight and swelling by the minute. I was in shock. I didn’t like feeling and being this helpless. I was so cold. My body was shaking and trembling so much that I couldn’t even keep my hands still. They were uncontrollable. I remember a black man putting his coat over me to help keep me warm, but not even that seemed to help in the least.

       I could see lots of my friends swarming around me now. They were saying things like, "Is that Laura?" It made me wonder how bad I really looked if they could not even recognize me. I was so incredibly frightened. I heard my sister Michelle crying and I saw Cheryl off in the distance. I called to her, to talk to her and I remember telling her to tell Ray not to worry, that I would still be going to the dance with him next weekend. Little did I know that by the time the dance would occur, dancing, dating, and primping for such a special occasion would be the furthest thing from my mind. One boy in my class was especially nice and helpful to me. He kept everyone as far back away from me as possible, and tried keeping all of them quite. I could hear everyone talking, and once I remember yelling at the crowd of spectators myself to shut up and quit looking at me. This was not some freak show.

        It seemed like the ambulance and fire trucks were never going to get there, yet in reality it had only been minutes but it seemed like an eternity to me. I wondered where Tiff, and Scott were. I didn’t even know if they were alive. Someone told me they were across the street and as I looked over in that direction, I saw crowds of people gathered around them too. They were probably asking dumb questions and making them feel worse than they already did, just as they were doing to me.

       When the rescue squad finally did arrive, I felt a little bit relieved. I was moved farther away from the blazing car for fear that it would explode again. Then they immediately began working on me. First they cut open my pants, then my sweater, blouse and even my bra. The entire group of curious spectators was gathered around watching all of this and that really bothered me. It was like they all thought this was so neat and exciting, and for me it was the worst thing that anyone could ever imagine happens to them.

        The paramedics worked fast. They tried to get an I.V. started but were unsuccessful. Sterile gauze bandages were taken and wrapped around my hands like mittens. Someone had telephone my parents and they had just arrived at the accident scene as the paramedics were working on me. They had just returned home from the football game themselves when they got the call. That must have been so horrible for them. I was put on a stretcher and wheeled into the life squad. My mother rode along inside with me.

       The ride to St. Vincent’s Medical Center was an experience itself. I had never ridden in anything like that before. It went extremely fast and I felt like I was going to fall off of the stretcher with every turn that the Life Squad made. As the sirens screamed out their warnings to passers-by it was almost like they were screaming out my feelings of fear and pain for me. Many times I have heard sirens blaring in the day or night, but never once really thought about who was inside fighting for their lives. Every time I hear a siren now I think about the person inside who could be seriously injured or dying and say a silent prayer for them.

        My mother insisted I be taken to the Toledo Hospital but the paramedics refused her request. I was being taken to St. Vincent’s Medical Center because of their terrific burn unit. I suppose at the time my mother nor I realized how extensive my burns really were. The attendant in the back of the life squad with my mother and I was talking to the hospital on something like a CB radio. He said, "We have a 17 yr. old female, with 2nd and 3rd degree burns on her face, hands, and legs." I had no idea that my legs had been burned too. No one even bothered to tell me. I guess they figured that I would have already known that myself. At this point I felt no pain in my legs, and I would guess that was because my body was in shock.

       When I arrived at the hospital I was taken into the emergency room and my parents were not allowed in for quite awhile. The bright florescent lights hurt my eyes and I found it difficult to keep them open. I strained them so that I could see what the doctors; nurses and attendants were all doing to me. I was very curious young women and this was me they were working on and I wanted to know everything that they were doing to me. I don’t really remember much about the ER though. They had given me something for pain, and I am sure it was really strong. Everything was kind of a blur.

        The doctor who took care of me in emergency was Dr. Kennedy. He had come out and told my parents that my hands were the worse hand burns that "He" had ever seen. After they unwrapped the dressings that were put on at the accident site, they took an instrument something like a pair of pliers and pulled off most of the skin that remained on my hands. This skin was burned and damaged so badly that it could in no way begin to repair itself. Blood oozed and ran down my arms but I felt no pain at this point. Probably because of the drugs, or maybe from just being in shock. My school ring was cut off. They removed my earrings, which were four leaf clovers. My good luck charms. Some luck wouldn't you say? What remained of my clothing was totally removed and I was put into a hospital gown. This would become my attire for the next several weeks.

        One of the male attendants in emergency named Chico combed through my hair and lumps and clumps of it just fell out. He had to cut it a lot. Then he shaved it all around my hairline and around my ears, and placed a cap on my head to keep it sterile around my wounded face. They soaked sterile strips of gauze in saline, (salt water) and placed them over my face, and re-wrapped my hands and did the same procedure to my legs and the rest of my burned areas. An I.V. was started; I was catheterized, and ready for my parents to come in to see me.

       They were only allowed in two at a time. My father and stepmother had arrived at the hospital by this time so it was my mother and my father who came in first. I was in a little room waiting to be taken up to the burn unit on the 7th floor. It was room #3. (My lucky number) My Mom and Dad looked very concerned and worried. I told them not to worry or to be afraid because I wasn’t and I really was not at this point. I had made a joke about my hair. I had an appointment to get it cut the next day, and told them that I didn’t need to keep my appointment now, because Chico had already given me a haircut. From the very beginning of this horrible ordeal I tried to keep a very positive outlook. By joking or whatever it took to somehow make everything seem less serious. After talking to my parents for a few minutes, I felt very dizzy and tired and just wanted to go to sleep.

        The next thing I recall was being in a different room. I remembered they were going to move me to the burn unit so this must have been where I was. My hands were tied in the air to two poles and they were throbbing so. The pain was unbearable and made it impossible for me to try and fall back to sleep. I had never experienced pain like this before in my life. If you have ever burned your finger, take that pain and multiply it by hundreds of thousands and then you might have some idea of what I felt like. I was in this strange place, with strange people, and noises and smells. It smelled something awful. It was then that I realized that this horrible smell was me. Burned flesh and hair smells something repulsive.

        The waiting seemed like an eternity but I didn’t even really know what I was waiting for. I guess I was waiting for the pain to subside. In that case I would be waiting for months and months to come, however I did not realize this at the time. I could really feel the burns now. They were on my legs, ears, butt, stomach, face and hands. Nothing wanted to stop throbbing. I didn’t even want to talk, I just wanted to lay still and try not to think about this pain and suffering I was enduring. The night dragged on and my discomfort only increased.

       Early the next morning before dawn, the doctors decided the best thing for me would be to take me into surgery for skin grafting for my hands. Normally they would wait a few days for the surgery, but in my case it was necessary then. I don’t really know why, I guess it was because of the extreme depth of the burns. I was wheeled out of my room and I don’t remember anything about the surgery. This was only the beginning of "My Long Hard Battle".

Chapter 2: The First Fourteen Days

Back to Title Page