It all starts with a spark

I wanted to share a story that very few of my colleagues know.

The skin on my arms and chest came from my legs.?I know those aren’t commonly spoken words, but they are the reason why I became intrigued with science.?Let me explain.

It was the summer of 1981.?I was an 11 year old kid with a passion for baseball and climbing trees with almost no real appreciation for science yet.?My parents were 100% blue collar people.?My dad was a mechanic and my mom made pizzas at the local Greek pizza place.?As a family, we just worked to put food on the table.?No one in my family even went to college, but a strong work ethic was, is and always will be our lifeline. ?

We lived a very simple life really.?Our “network” was almost all incredibly hard working blue collar New England families with only a few professional families from Cherry Hill.?The only places of higher education within 30 miles were high schools and libraries; there wasn’t (and still isn’t) much academic interests spilling over into the community from places of higher learning.?So when a gas explosion engulfed my entire upper body in flames, it was also the spark that ignited my interest in science and was the beginning of my scientific career. ?

It all began when a flaming container of gas hit me square in the chest.?I put my arms up to shield my face with my left arm bearing the brunt of the flames.?My upper body was saturated in gasoline and engulfed in flames.?I can still hear the crackle of the fire.?I can still feel my skin sizzling, my eyes drying out and my throat constricting while trying to inhale flames.?I knew I was in trouble and stopped, dropped and rolled just like Scruffy had taught us.?Without a doubt, Scruffy saved my life.

Once I was extinguished, I was a charred mess.?My Little League shirt almost completely burned off me.?My hair was singed with patches completely burned off.?My eye brows were gone.?My skin on my arms just melted and draped down like charred chicken skin.?The rest of my skin was taut and crispy.?Only my jeans and sneakers remained intact.?I ran home for help and they rushed me to the hospital.

My local hospital was not a trauma center but they rose to the occasion.?I still remember the look on their faces when I walked in.?I remember them putting me in a tub of ice and then pulling, snipping and scrubbing the burns with a scrubby pad.?Shortly after that, shock set in, I blacked out and woke up a week later at Yale University - exactly 56 miles from home.?It was at Yale that this story turns into a profoundly positive life changing experience for me.

When I woke up ay Yale, I was surrounded by people talking about things I had never known about.?They explained what every medication did.?They explained why every special type of gauze was used.?What every special ointment would do, etc.?They explained that infection was my biggest concern so I got daily doses of antibiotics.?They explained the “nipping, tugging and scrubbing” was a process called debridement to remove all dead tissue to prevent infection.?They explained the yellow gauze soaked in Vaseline called Xeroform was basically my artificial skin until I was stabilized so that I could undergo skin grafts.?They explained the blood draws from my foot?2-3 times a day were to monitor infection and overall health.?And they explained why I had to soak twice a day in a whirlpool full of bleachy water before being wrapped up like a mummy in 2-3 inch thick gauzes to look like the Michelin man.?Though in massive pain both physically and emotionally, I was kind of eating it all up and asking a lot of questions.?My brain was stimulated.

As I stabilized and got closer to the skin grafting process, my doctors Dr. Frazier, a guy I only know as Bruce and my plastic surgeon Dr. Sal Barese told me more about the cutting edge science that was going to happen to me.?They said ~28% of my body had 3rd degree burns with more than 50% with 2nd degree or more.?The areas with 3rd degree were skinless and burned to the muscle or bone in some places.?My epidermis was completely gone on most of my arms and chest leaving only my dermis.?The epidermis protects us from infection and keeps the insides in, so my wounds were “wet” and oozy” and highly susceptible to infection.?Dr Frazier and Sal explained that they were going to shave 6 x 3 inch sheets of healthy skin from my thighs and use those sheets to replace my burned skin.?They told me they would stamp the sheets with a special tool that created a webbed mesh so the sheets could be stretched and molded.?I was afraid but intrigued.

As I lay on a stretcher during my daily bleach bath, my physical therapist named Andy told me not to worry and explained the holes in the mesh would fill in as the living cells and tissue grew.?He explained that other methods were being developed that could grow my skin cells in a tube, so that one small piece of donor skin could create an entire sheet in a week.?I was intrigued and absorbed every word.?Andy explained that skin cells grew fast when they were well nourished, but stopped?growing laterally when they reach adjacent cells - a phenomenon known as “contact inhibition”.?My 11 year old mind was in awe and my career was born as I healed.?

Fast forward a few weeks, my skin grafts “took” and I left the Hunter 4 ward after 40 days.?My scars healed over the next 2 years, and I underwent reconstructive surgery at Boston Shriners to remove bulky keloid scars that constricted and limited my motion.?It was at the Shriners Unit when I realized that I was one of the lucky ones.?The other burn patients there were much more serious than I.?The fighting spirit of Jamie - a 6 year old kid from Casper, Wyoming who was burned 101% of his body- completely changed my attitude.?I was extremely lucky and I was given a gift.?I will never forget Jamie.

I went on to live an otherwise normal life.?At age 17, I joined the CT Army National Guard and trained to be a medic.?In 1993, while stationed at a Troop Medical Clinic drawing blood for health exams, I noticed a familiar name on the paperwork for the patients coming through our facility.?In doctor’s writing, I saw the words “Sal Barese”.?I asked our patients where the doc was that signed this, and they directed me.?Sal recognized me in an instant.?It gave me great pleasure to tell him that he saved my life and inspired my career.

Life has a funny way of directing us where to go.?In a very strange way, I owe my life to that bad experience.?It really does come down to nourishment, overcoming hardships, and overcoming inhibitions regardless of their source.

So what was the source of your inspiration?