shock read: My husband left me for looking like this
A life-threatening injury showed mum Courtney Waldon, 27, who she could really depend on
Seeing my five-year-old daughter Caroline fast asleep on the sofa, I closed the patio door and headed down the garden to where my husband Mark* was sitting.
It was September 2016, and after spending the day unpacking in our new home, we decided to reward ourselves with a barbecue. Pulling up a chair and handing me a beer, Mark kissed me on the cheek. It had been a year since we first met in the coffee factory where we both worked, and two months since we married and bought our dream house together. Mark had insisted on building a special barbecue area in the back – a hole dug in the ground with a cooking stand over it.
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Accident
As I warmed my hands over the blaze, I couldn’t have been more content. ‘The fire needs to be hotter,’ Mark said, prodding some steaks. He disappeared to the shed, returning with a can of petrol. ‘Be careful,’ I said, as he unscrewed the lid.
‘Don’t worry,’ he smiled, lifting the can up. ‘I’ve done this before.’ The petrol crackled as it hit the fire. Then suddenly, there was a whoosh and flames shot up like a rocket. I remember smelling pungent fumes and then feeling an explosion of pain across my face as I lit up like a bonfire.
Screaming in agony, I threw myself onto the grass and started rolling around. ‘Help me!’ I howled, as I desperately tried to suffocate the flames engulfing my body. As the smell of burning flesh filled my nostrils, I felt Mark fall beside me. He slammed his hands onto my body, beating the flames, trying to put them out.
It probably only took seconds but I was in agony. Finally, with the fire out, I stumbled to my feet and I sank down onto the cool of the patio tiles. ‘Call an ambulance!’ I gasped as I saw Mark running indoors. Lying on the stone, all I could think about was my little girl. ‘Please don’t let her see me like this,’ I thought as I saw my blackened hands. I could only imagine what the rest of me looked like.
I was going into shock, my body so hot and shaking violently. Then I heard the ambulance siren. I saw the medics, but I was losing consciousness now. ‘Am I going to die?’ I asked. But I heard a voice saying, 'no'. They were doing everything they could to keep me alive. Then I blacked out.
The next thing I remember, I was waking up in the hospital. Mark was beside me, looking tired. Instinctively, I lifted my hand to my face. My skin felt cracked and bubbled like honeycomb. Shortly after, the doctor explained that I’d been in a coma for a month. I’d suffered third degree burns across my face and over 40% of my body. I’d undergone seven attempts by surgeons to graft over the charred muscle and skin. ‘We had no idea if you’d pull through,’ the doctor said. ‘Your injuries were so severe.’ I thought of my little girl. ‘Where is she?’ I rasped. Mark leaned forwards. ‘She’s all right,’ he said. ‘She’s with your parents.’ I longed to see her but I was told it was better to wait. ‘What if she doesn’t recognise me?’ I cried to Mark one night. But he just reached across and rubbed my back. He hadn’t said a word about the accident, much less apologised to me. I didn’t want to blame him for what happened, but I couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t acknowledge my suffering. My skin was so tight and sore, the pain excruciating. Over the next few weeks I
‘The smell of burning flesh hit my nostrils’
struggled on with my recovery, driven by my determination to see my daughter. I stayed in hospital and as time passed, I slowly grew stronger. By the end of November, two months after the fire, I was allowed home. There was just one more hurdle to overcome – I had to see damage the fire had done to my face. Stepping up to the sink in my bathroom, I glanced up into the mirror.
I was faced by a monster. I’d always been told I was beautiful but now my skin was red raw like a Halloween mask and mottled with scars. With my slit-like eyes and tiny nose, I looked unrecognisable. I gripped the sink, barely able to breathe. When I arrived home, Caroline hesitated when she saw me. Seeing the upset and confusion in her eyes broke my heart. ‘It’s Mummy,’ I said softly and finally she ran to me. I held her as tight as I could with my damaged arms. It felt so good to hold her again. I glanced up at Mark, willing him to come and join us. But he stood hesitant in the background.
And over the next while, as I tried to pick up the pieces of my life, I noticed him becoming more withdrawn. Occasionally, he’d snap at me when I asked for help.
‘Stop ordering me about,’ he’d say. It was like he blamed me for not being able to cook and clean like I used to. Like somehow it was my fault the accident had happened.
Losing everything
So although he carried on cooking my meals and helping me dress, I could tell something wasn’t right. ‘I just can’t handle you anymore,’ he said, finally. ‘It’s too much. I need to leave.’ I looked at him stunned. ‘But, Caroline and I need you,’ I said. He left shortly after. No explanation, just that he was going to his mother’s. I was so shocked I couldn’t speak. Deep down, I knew he was the reason I was in this state. The petrol can had been in his hands. And yet now it seemed he was blaming me? What kind of a person treats their wife like this? Of course, Caroline was confused when I told her that Mark needed some time away. But after three weeks had passed and Mark still didn’t return home, I knew I had to tell her the truth. She was naturally sad but sensing how vulnerable I was, she didn’t cry about it. ‘I’ll look after you now Mummy,’ she said simply, hugging me.
Part of me was livid with Mark for abandoning us like this. But another part of me couldn’t blame him for wanting to run away. I was a monster now – who would ever want to be with me?
So with no support from Mark and unable to pay for the house on my own, Caroline and I moved back in with my parents. It was my lowest point. I’d lost everything and to me, there seemed only one reason Mark had left me. He didn’t want a scarred wife.
The local community rallied to help Caroline and I and raised enough money to enable me to build my own home in the fields behind my parents’ property in Georgia, USA. I was so grateful and it really helped for us to have a place of our own.
And now, one year on, I’m rebuilding my life. My scars still hurt. I’ve had 27 operations and will need more. When I walk down the street, people stare. But every day I’m getting stronger. I don’t blame Mark for the accident. But what I can’t forgive is him leaving me when I was at my most vulnerable.
We have no contact now but I’ve managed to make a life for me and Caroline and together we’re happy. A husband is supposed to love and care for you through the toughest times, but Mark simply abandoned me. I learned the hard way but I finally know, I’m better off by myself.
‘My skin was red raw like a Halloween mask’