Every year at this time come news stories of horrific injuries caused by fireworks. The sensational one making the rounds this year is of a man in New York who literally blew off his left arm. More typically, we hear stories about blown off fingers, ruptured eardrums and severe burns as well as fires to structures and property. I'd like to shake my self-righteous finger at these "morons" for engaging in such irresponsible behavior, but I have my own stupid 4th of July injury story to tell.
I don't remember how old I was at the time, but I believe I was in my 20s. Almost every Independence Day, the family gathered at my grandparent's home that overlooked Lake Hamilton, outside of Hot Springs, Arkansas. As one of the "adults" by this point, I was in charge of the family's evening fireworks display over the lake.
We utilized a wooden trough my grandfather had built years early for the various bottle and sky rockets within the yearly arsenal. We also often used the trough for roman candles.
I tended to err on the side of safety because I certainly didn't want to be the featured subject of a newspaper article about some doofus who blew his hand off while shooting off fireworks!
With the preceding info as a backdrop, here's what happened. We were about 2/3 of the way through the fireworks display when I placed another roman candle in the trough. "Why don't you just hold it in your hand?" my mother asked. "Yes," chimed in both of my grandparents. "That's how we used to do roman candles."
"I don't want to get burned," I replied. My assembled relatives reasoned that, if I held the roman candle away from my body, I wouldn't be burned AND they could see the display better. After a little more coaxing, I agreed to try this method. So, with the roman candle in my right hand, I lit the fuse with my left hand and then all hell broke loose.
You see, the roman candle my uncle had handed me was not a typical roman candle. We later discovered that this particular variety had slits along the side so that the burning display not only shot out from the top but the sides too. My hand was covering the slits and, once the candle was lit, the fiery display shot into my hand.
I've suffered a lot of pain in my life, but I don't think I had ever experienced anything close to this. I suffered 2nd degree burns and, if not for the fact my grandfather was a doctor, would have been transported to the hospital immediately. My grandfather was an Osteopath and he didn't think too much of the way most hospitals care for burn victims. So, I was treated by the Doc Sparling method.
And what was this method, you ask. I plunged my burnt hand into a giant pail of ice water and I kept my hand in the ice water for nearly 24 hours! Let me tell ya, while the burn was excruciating itself, the ice water became just as excruciating. Initially, it numbed my hand, but after awhile, the icy coldness became painful. So, I would pull my hand out -- against grandpa's orders -- but as soon as the burned area met the air it caused a different type of excruciating pain; like it was burning all over again. So, I would plunge the hand back into the ice water.
Various relatives took turns watching me that night because my hand needed to stay in the water while I was asleep. Needless to say, I didn't sleep much.
Eventually, I was able to get my hand away from the ice and grandpa peeled off the burnt skin, dressed the wound and my hand was bandaged so that I basically couldn't use it at all. My hand remained bandaged -- the bandages were changed periodically -- for two months. Though his methods may not be the normal acceptable ones, I have fully recovered without as much as a scar.
You shouldn't be surprised to learn that I have not shot off or lit any type of fireworks since. I also learned a very valuable lesson: Just because one or more people are older than you, this doesn't mean they are always right!
I don't remember how old I was at the time, but I believe I was in my 20s. Almost every Independence Day, the family gathered at my grandparent's home that overlooked Lake Hamilton, outside of Hot Springs, Arkansas. As one of the "adults" by this point, I was in charge of the family's evening fireworks display over the lake.
We utilized a wooden trough my grandfather had built years early for the various bottle and sky rockets within the yearly arsenal. We also often used the trough for roman candles.
I tended to err on the side of safety because I certainly didn't want to be the featured subject of a newspaper article about some doofus who blew his hand off while shooting off fireworks!
With the preceding info as a backdrop, here's what happened. We were about 2/3 of the way through the fireworks display when I placed another roman candle in the trough. "Why don't you just hold it in your hand?" my mother asked. "Yes," chimed in both of my grandparents. "That's how we used to do roman candles."
"I don't want to get burned," I replied. My assembled relatives reasoned that, if I held the roman candle away from my body, I wouldn't be burned AND they could see the display better. After a little more coaxing, I agreed to try this method. So, with the roman candle in my right hand, I lit the fuse with my left hand and then all hell broke loose.
You see, the roman candle my uncle had handed me was not a typical roman candle. We later discovered that this particular variety had slits along the side so that the burning display not only shot out from the top but the sides too. My hand was covering the slits and, once the candle was lit, the fiery display shot into my hand.
I've suffered a lot of pain in my life, but I don't think I had ever experienced anything close to this. I suffered 2nd degree burns and, if not for the fact my grandfather was a doctor, would have been transported to the hospital immediately. My grandfather was an Osteopath and he didn't think too much of the way most hospitals care for burn victims. So, I was treated by the Doc Sparling method.
And what was this method, you ask. I plunged my burnt hand into a giant pail of ice water and I kept my hand in the ice water for nearly 24 hours! Let me tell ya, while the burn was excruciating itself, the ice water became just as excruciating. Initially, it numbed my hand, but after awhile, the icy coldness became painful. So, I would pull my hand out -- against grandpa's orders -- but as soon as the burned area met the air it caused a different type of excruciating pain; like it was burning all over again. So, I would plunge the hand back into the ice water.
Various relatives took turns watching me that night because my hand needed to stay in the water while I was asleep. Needless to say, I didn't sleep much.
Eventually, I was able to get my hand away from the ice and grandpa peeled off the burnt skin, dressed the wound and my hand was bandaged so that I basically couldn't use it at all. My hand remained bandaged -- the bandages were changed periodically -- for two months. Though his methods may not be the normal acceptable ones, I have fully recovered without as much as a scar.
You shouldn't be surprised to learn that I have not shot off or lit any type of fireworks since. I also learned a very valuable lesson: Just because one or more people are older than you, this doesn't mean they are always right!
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