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 [email protected] .]