I survived a fireball…
The marks on my body are just the start of my story
June 1997
Slowly shifting my head from side to side, my eyes were dazzled by white lights.
Shadows hovered above me, electrics buzzed, machines bleeped.
Wires seemed to be strapping me to the bed, but my limbs felt as if I was floating, my arms and legs cocooned in bandages. I was just 2 years old. My only other memory was of watching Thumbelina, snuggled into my mother Shannon’s chest.
I remembered her warmth, hearing my siblings playing in the kitchen. My dad Craig whistling nearby.
But now that innocent life had been incinerated.
Replaced by endless days and weeks at Shriners Hospital for Children, Ohio, miles from my home in North Carolina.
I heard doctors, Mummy and Daddy talking.
My entire body had been engulfed in flames.
Now my whole world was this hospital. Skin grafts every few weeks, Mum’s cries replacing the cooing I was used to.
I remember the look of fear on my sisters’ faces, the feeling of terror and chaos. And unimaginable pain. ‘You’re going to be OK, baby girl,’ Mum’s voice said, offering me an instant comfort.
But I had such bad burns – to 80% of my body – Mummy couldn’t even hold my hand...