Twenty years ago, Linda Buchan's life changed forever when she suffered serious injuries after a fire broke out in her house.
She shares her journey from that terrible night when the life and future she thought lay ahead of her was shattered. From that moment she began a new life, firstly fighting just to survive, then forging her way to live a fulfilling and purposeful life.
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Mum said I was sitting propped up in bed running my fingers awkwardly through my Pound Puppy’s ears when suddenly I said, in a faint rasp, ‘this isn’t my Pound Puppy.’
This was the moment I believe I returned to my body, the moment I came back to reality. My room in the Coorabel wing of the Ryde Rehabilitation Unit appeared to be dull, almost hazy but at the same time strangely bright. The sheets, in the unfamiliar bed, were stiff and scratchy and the bars on either side encased me, making it feel claustrophobic.
Linda pictured at 18 years of age. Photo: Supplied Source: Supplied
I heard someone say, ‘it’s Kim’s,’ and I knew the voice belonged to Mum. My gorgeous mother, with her beautiful blue eyes, warm smile, pearl-white teeth, short blonde hair with its kick wave and her fit, tanned body.
But I sensed her frightened energy, something I had never felt from her before. I thought that something bad must have happened for her to be feeling like this.
Adjusting to the intense light that was flooding into my eyes I tried to clear my vision. There were hazy shapes at the end of the bed, a blurry mass of colours that were moving incredibly fast, almost vibrating. I tried desperately to focus. I couldn’t see, I didn’t know what was going on, what had happened. I did not have a clue where I was or, what was most confusing and frightening, who I was.
I heard my mother’s voice once more and felt reassured. I was instantly comforted knowing that Mum was beside me. She had positioned herself in a mother’s natural place, as close as possible to the bed, leaning on the metal bars.
She leant down with her ear in front of my mouth but heard nothing but a faint whisper. If I didn’t know what I was saying in my head, I too would not have understood the strange, distorted rasps.
After a couple of failed attempts at trying to say three little words, ‘Where am I?’ Mum finally understood.
‘You don’t remember?’ she asked softly. ‘You were in a fire,’ she said.
My mind was blank. No thoughts, no memories, nothing.
I shook my head slowly, deliberately, staring into space as my brain tried to comprehend what I had been told. My thoughts ticked over, it felt like the passing of seasons: the leaves changed colour, crystal flakes fell, flowers bloomed, the sun burned the earth at high intensity ... and then, finally, the reality of my situation hit me. ‘How?’ I asked. ‘A heater in your bedroom started it,’ Mum replied softly.
Again, I vanished from the present. I stared blankly, trying to recall the events that had led to this strange, sterile environment. Nothing came, not a thing.
"It was all so unreal, it wasn’t happening. What was going on? I simply couldn’t believe it."
I felt tired and lethargic, and at the same time deep within I knew something was different. Instinctively I began to explore my body. I leant forward, my hands running down my legs only to discover they were puffy and soft. My movements were slow and uncoordinated. As I explored my body with wonder and intrigue, Mum gave me a running commentary. ‘You have burns on your legs. Third-degree, full thickness,’ she explained. I had not the faintest idea what that meant. Full thickness?
As I continued my investigation, it didn’t feel real. It was as though someone or something else had occupied my body. It was as if somebody else was in control, I felt detached, overtaken by a strange numb sensation resulting in a sort of delayed reaction. It was as if I thought, and then I moved. It felt as though it took two or three seconds for my body to react to the directions I gave it.
‘Your toes on your right foot had to be amputated. They were burnt to the bone and the doctors couldn’t save them,’ Mum explained.
I reached for where my toes were meant to be: the sensation I felt was letting me know that all my toes were still there. I poked the bandages deeply trying to physically feel something to find out for myself what my mother had told me. ‘On your right foot only,’ Mum said gently. Explaining, guiding, supporting.
But my toes still felt as if they were all still there. I told Mum that I could wriggle them all and asked: ‘Aren’t I moving them?’ Eyes glazed, I looked sideways at my mum who again patiently explained what had happened.
I began to giggle uncontrollably. It was all so unreal, it wasn’t happening. What was going on? I simply couldn’t believe it.
My attitude was flippant. No toes. No big deal.
I paused at various points, trying to fathom what had happened. When I reached areas that gave me an unusual sensation, if the area didn’t feel ‘normal’, I asked, or appealed with my eyes for an explanation. Mum would respond with warmth and reassurance.
At my left ankle, the burn was very thick. As I investigated further, moving higher to my calves there was a double sensation on either side of my legs. The outer sides of both my calves were highly sensitive, whereas, inside, there was a kind of heaviness and numbness, an irritation I could not find relief from. Mum continued to explain the extent of my burns. ‘You have burns on the insides of your legs and donor sites on the outside,’ she said.
I didn’t ask questions. I found listening was hard enough. My hands then met behind my right knee where it felt really strange. ‘You still have an open wound there,’ Mum explained.
The padding felt thicker as my fingers moved, attempting to penetrate deep into the feeling, trying to source what was beneath. ‘Your burns continue to your inner thigh,’ Mum said.
Source: Saber Baluch/Insight
I raised my head to look at Mum, and a tear slid from beneath my eyelashes, down my gaunt cheek. Even with big round pupils I was unable to focus clearly on my mum’s face, and it was even fuzzier with tear-filled eyes.
Mum wrapped her protective arms tightly around me. This loving action was perfectly timed. It was so warm, comforting and so incredibly powerful.
‘I love you,’ she whispered but I could sense that even with the protection of her tough exterior she was holding back her tears for both of us. But I couldn’t stem the flood of tears that welled up within me. ‘I love you too,’ I cried out.
She told me later that as she tightened her embrace she felt my bones against her body; I was emaciated, sickly thin. My body had wasted away, the toned sporting muscle had disappeared and my weight had plunged from 63kg to a skeletal 43kg.
The outside world was irrelevant at this moment. My mum and I could have been anywhere; we were so engrossed, so tied together. But in reality we were in a terrifying place. Gone was the young, outgoing woman who, until recently had everything: a beautiful, bright life ahead of her.
I moved my muscle-wasted bony hands to my hips and lower stomach. That’s different, I thought. The area felt synthetic and sounded like plastic.
‘What’s that?’ I asked. ‘How much of me is burnt?’
‘It’s a nappy,’ she said.
What! Are you serious? This is crazy! I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I smiled in disbelief, while more tears found their way down my pale, bony cheeks. My emotions were in a frenzy. Desperately curious, I continued to investigate my body. My thoughts tumbling as I reached the place where my boobs usually sat. My chest, never big, was concave, and bony. ‘Phew, I still have my boobs. They are still so big!’ I exclaimed as I cupped my hands over my nipples. My clowning exaggeration raised a half smile on Mum’s face as she strained to hear what I said even though her ear was only an inch from my mouth.
It was at about this time that I learnt that I had spent almost two months drifting in and out of consciousness. I sustained hypoxic brain damage, which meant my brain had been affected due to oxygen deprivation and that, on two occasions on the night of the fire, I technically died.
The extent of the brain injury was unknown when I first woke up in rehab but it affected my entire body: my speech, balance and sight. Furthermore, my natural bodily processes such as pupil dilation were non-responsive.
I can remember the flood of emotions swirling inside me as I flopped back onto the stack of pillows behind me. I just didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It all seemed so ridiculous.
‘This isn’t happening. Joke’s over, right?’ I cried out.
The tears literally sprang from my eyes, flowing continuously. I didn’t understand. Weeping bitterly Mum wrapped her arms around me again and I sensed her deep pain as she cried too.
I then heard another person’s deep sobs in the room. They belonged to my Dad. He had been standing silently just beyond the foot of the bed. ‘Dad?’ I cried soundlessly.
Mum brought him closer. I needed reassurance that I was going to be all right and, as if on cue, Dad leant forward and embraced me as only a father can his daughter. He was strong and comforting in his hug, though it felt as though his arms had grown and he seemed to be hugging me in a gingerly fashion, almost afraid he might hurt me.
A blurry figure remained at the end of the bed and chose not to come forward. Try as I may I could not make out who it was. It was several minutes after drifting into consciousness that I became aware that Kim wasn’t there.
‘Kimmy?’ Mustering all the strength I could, I forced my sister’s name out and I reached for her with both arms desperately wanting to hold her close. ‘Where is she, where is Kim?’ I called out.
Linda and Kim pictured together as kids. Photo: Supplied Source: Supplied
My mother and father couldn’t contain their grief any longer. Their sobs grew louder as they held me tight, ever so tight. Suddenly there was another embrace, it was slightly clumsy but its force was just as powerful. It was John. Unaware of his strength, he squeezed me as tight as possible and wouldn’t let go. His body vibrated as his emotions were released. Mum and Dad moved back, giving space to the loving power and connection of us two siblings. That embrace was so powerful, something only a brother and sister would understand. Time stood still.
‘Where’s Kimmy?’ I sobbed in my indecipherable language. Mum came close, looked into my questioning eyes.
‘You don’t remember?’ she asked gently.
‘No. I don’t remember anything.’
‘She’s dead. She’s not with us anymore.’
The words were blurted out. Raw. I had no idea who spoke them. Fear punched me in the stomach. Inner turmoil erupted. Time stopped. Everything fell silent. I collapsed deeper into the love of my family, the only safe place I knew, and still know.
‘How?’ I asked helplessly.
‘A doona fell off your bed onto a heater and caught fire,’ Mum explained as she released herself from the embrace, her sorrowful, glistening eyes met my puzzled look of disbelief.
‘You don’t remember?’ she asked again.
‘No. Why was Kim there, in the fire?’ I asked. The pieces had not connected for me yet.
‘She stayed with you the night school finished.’
‘What? Why?’
I was hopelessly lost in an ocean of emotions. The thought of my beloved sister being dead left me devastated.
Mum explained patiently that Kim wanted to stay in Sydney and play netball the next day with her team and that she decided to stay the night with me, at my townhouse.
I was screaming silently as if in a hideous night-mare. My mouth was open but no sounds came out.
‘It’s my fault.’
I doubled over, my head in my hands. ‘It’s my fault,’ I screamed soundlessly, desperately trying to make this hellish image go away.
‘Linda,’ my mother said gently. She lifted my chin, her eyes reached out to my shattered heart. ‘It was an accident. It was no one’s fault.’
But all I could think was that I was supposed to look after her. I was her big sister. She needed me and I wasn’t there; I failed her. The thoughts swirled painfully, indescribably painfully within me. The most terrifying of these were: Did I kill her? I killed my sister Kim. I am the reason she is dead.
Dad hugged me tightly, tenderly. ‘It is not your fault Lou, okay?’
He lifted my head so that my eyes looked directly into his. His gaze pierced through my green eyes, reached deep inside me. ‘It is no one’s fault. We all love you and want you to get better. We have to focus on getting you well now.’ He squeezed me with his body and arms, and murmured: ‘I love you.’
Splintered, disjointed memories raced through me. Tortuous glimpses filtered through my shattered memory. Dancing at the bar, suddenly tired, leaving and taking a cab home, remembering that Kim had my house keys, hazily recalling climbing the fence, leaping on to the balcony and switching on the heater next to my bed.
