Gayle Petrillo
A Burn Survivor’s Story
I was a giggly girly girl who loved frilly everything: from bows in my hair to on my shoes and everywhere in between. I was a happy toddler who was curious to meet people and learn.
At age two and a half, while attending a grown-up tea party, I climbed up to the table for hot chocolate and goodies, and as I reached for a cookie, I pulled a freshly brewed pot of coffee off the table and all over me.
I was burned over 40% of my tiny body and was hospitalized for months. My parents weren’t sure whether I would live or die.
My scars include my upper right breast and down my chest to my belly button. They pale in comparison, and colour, now from how they looked years earlier.
In the 1950’s, burns were treated very differently than today. There were no support organizations then either. Life simply went on.
My family never discussed the accident. It wasn’t until very recently, at 67, that I’ve learned through SOAR (a peer support through the Phoenix Burn Society) that all burn survivors experience PTSD.
My memory of early childhood post accident is very limited. That’s probably (mostly) a positive thing. I do recall receiving painful injections in my abdomen area in an attempt to reduce the scarring. I also recall how terribly itchy my scars were as my body healed. My favorite stuffed animal, Tiger, actually had to be thrown out because I used him to gently rub my scars because I had been warned not to scratch with my fingers due to the risk of infection. Often, I would wake up surrounded by pools of blood on my sheets and all over Tiger.
Dressing and undressing in public was nightmarish. I did everything I could to avoid others seeing my scars. Shopping with friends was great as long as I wasn’t trying clothes on. I did everything I could to avoid getting attention. I saw myself as I thought others saw me: disfigured.
In school, even though I was smart, even when I knew the answer I wouldn’t raise my hand. And if a teacher called my name, I drew inward and became mute. Sweat would cover my brow, and he or she would move to the next student.
My accident caused me to lack self-confidence. I struggled with body image issues all my life until very recently. I had deep-seated fears and phobias, many of which I’ve been able to overcome with the help of trusted family, friends, colleagues and medical providers. Many of these fears and phobias were rational, such as fire and blood, and include matches, sparklers, and gas stoves. Many, however, were irrational: a fear of heights (like walking across bridges); walking to the edge of buildings and precipices; as well as snakes, spiders and other animals–large and small. Though I have never fallen from a high place or been bitten by an animal, my fears grew into terrible terrors.
I’ve been extremely lucky to have been surrounded by loving and caring individuals most of my life. When I was in a bad place or situation, I managed to move forward only because of the support I’ve had in my adult life:
Phobia avoidance classes have taught me that repeat exposure to your fears helps to overcome them. Some repeat exposures may be possible to do by yourself; others may require intervention from a professional. I also learned that I have been able to push past fears with breathing techniques; for example, when unexpectedly approaching a bridge that I have no choice but to cross, or when touring parts of the Western United States and wanting to see beyond a lookout point in Zion National Park.
We all have super powers that enable us to help ourselves and to support others. To overcome a lack of self confidence, I’ve learned to graciously accept compliments. Whether someone says, “you have beautiful eyes,” or “that color blue looks good on you,” etc.
I climbed the corporate healthcare ladder. It wasn’t easy. No, it most certainly was fraught with negative self-talk. My inner voice repeated, “No, you can’t! You are an imposter. Who would listen to you? I’m not good (strong) enough.” I could keep on going… Every time those words came to mind, I pushed them away, and remembered compliments that I had been given, and the success I have achieved. They, in turn, help me remember the positive things about myself that enabled me to get to where I have been able to go. I talk back to my negative thoughts. I ask myself, “what’s the worst-case scenario?” Or, I remind myself of the last time I overcame a fearful response and I survived. And, I try to learn from the mistakes I’ve made; and believe me, I’ve made many. Haven’t we all?
So, in conclusion, I offer one thought and one suggestion:
My closing thought for you is to remember you are never alone. Someone, somewhere is also going through what you are. We have all been burned– physically and/or emotionally.
My final suggestion is this: share. Share your story, whether in bits and pieces, or in totality. You will heal by sharing, and others will heal by hearing, and eventually, when they are ready, they too will share their story.
It took me a lifetime (over 60 years) before I was ready to share my story. Writing my book, The Accident, was not only cathartic, but my audiences are now sharing with me that they resonated with one or more parts of my book, which shows that sharing your story can make a difference in many peoples’ lives.
