By Rick Ryckeley
Fayette County Fire & Emergency Services

The people I work with say I'm good at teaching children and getting down on their level. They say that I have a unique ability to be able to communicate with the kids that enables me to get my message across.

Well, they don't really say it that way; they say I have the maturity of a four-year-old.

Ever met one of those people who love to go to work? Are there really people who enjoy their chosen professions that much? For the last twenty years, I have been one of those fortunate people; I'm a firefighter.

Throughout those twenty years, good and bad calls have both come my way, but it's the calls that involved children that are the hardest to forget when you close your eyes at night. It was about three months ago that just such a call commanded all of my attention.

The call came over the radio that a child had a rocket engine explode in his face. Everyone held their breath, thinking about the severity and long-term disability that such an explosion could cause. As we hurried to the medic truck, we went over the possibilities of what we would be facing: young eyes blind for life, lungs seared, skin graphs, years of recovery, and a young life changed forever in an instant. All of these thoughts went through our minds as we raced to the address given by dispatch 911.

When the ambulance arrived, mom hurried out with the boy, they climbed into the back and the paramedics laid him on the stretcher. As they raced to the hospital, they treated the boy: bandaging his face, starting an IV and giving Morphine for his pain. When they asked what had happened, all the boy could say was, "My Dad is going to be mad at me. He's really into being safe, and this was a dumb thing that I did." The boy then explained what had happened.

When he was asked to clean up his room, he found four engines from the model rockets that he and his dad shot off last year. He went outside and placed one of the rocket engines in the middle of the street. (He knew this would be fairly safe because they lived on a dead end street.) Knowing he needed a fuse, he had taken the heads of sticks matches and made a ten-match fuse and knelt down to light the end. The rocket engine shot off down the street and exploded about five hundred feet away.

The boy repeated the same thing for the next two engines, but with the fourth engine things did not go as planned. The boy did not understand why the last engine was a little longer and fatter than the other three; the reason was because it was a two-stage engine. The boy knelt down to light the match fuse, and when he did, the engine exploded in his face.

Remembering what his dad had taught him, the boy ran inside and put cool water on his face to cool the burn. He thought he could get away from telling his mom what really happen and say it was just a bad sunburn if he could just stop his face from burning. But the burning did not stop, and when he looked in the mirror, and he saw he was washing away his face, he ran to get his mom.

It never ceases to amaze me how one's life can change by a letter in the mail, a knock on the door, or a simple phone call. The boy's dad got just such a call that night, and it changed his life forever. His friends called him to let him know that his son was being transported to the hospital with first and second degree burns to the face.

They did not know if he was blind or if his lungs were okay no further information about his condition was available. As his heart stood still, the dad raced to the hospital; his little boy was hurt and needed him. The dad cried as he prayed that his only son would be all right.

I was there as the ambulance arrived and brought the boy into the emergency room for evaluation and treatment. The treating physician ordered additional medication for the pain and examined the boy. I was there when the dad arrived and asked the physician, with great apprehension, the status of his son.

The doctor said that the boy had first and second degree burns to his face; his eyes and lungs were clear and uninjured. The doctor went on to say that the boy had turned his head when the engine exploded and was very lucky.

I was there when the dad came into the boy's room and saw his son look up at him through the bandages. With tears in his eyes the dad asked his son if he was okay, and his son said yes. He said that he was sorry about what had happened, and that he knew it was a really dumb thing to do.

His dad asked him if he had learned a lesson about fire, and the boy said, "Yeah Dad, you don't play with fire 'cause things can blow up in your face and burn you." His dad hugged him and told him that he loved him as his son fell asleep from the medication.

It has been over three months now. A lot of medication has gone on that face, and a lot of skin has peeled off. He had to stay out of the sun for the rest of the summer, but it looks like the boy will make it with no ill effects or scarring.

This is one story that, I'm thankful to say, has a happy ending. None of us know what things our kids will remember about growing up, but one thing is for sure; both father and son will remember that day.

I know that I will. You see, that little boy is mine, and that dad is me.

[Rick Ryckeley is a member of the Fayette County Department of Fire and Emergency Services. He can be reached at saferick@bellsouth.net.]

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