Life after the fire: Lessons learned on how to navigate the treacherous streams of insurance and contractors after a fire.

On March 22nd 2022 we had a house fire. My wife and I were in Wichita and had just sat down for dinner and cocktails. My kids (18 and 21) along with a friend and our two dogs were at the house. At 7PM my son called and said the fire alarms were going off while they were making dinner. They didn’t see or smell anything. I told them to walk around the house and then call me back if it didn’t stop. I had time to sit back down before my son called again. He was hard to understand at first, trying to tell me what was happening between sobs. Not that he needed to say much, the raw panic in his voice was enough to let me know what was happening. My kids were at home and our house was on fire.

I’m an upbeat and optimistic person but every possible worst-case scenario started playing out in my mind as we ran back to the hotel, threw everything in our bags and started the three-hour drive home. My wife drove (she’s awesome like that) while I tried to coordinate with the kids. The fire department had been called and showed up remarkably fast. My oldest was in the car with our German Shepard and Pit-bull. My son and the friend were in the yard speaking with the firemen. Very quickly my wife’s daughter and boyfriend arrived at the house as well. Meanwhile I was panicking while “Raging Inferno” endlessly replayed in my mind and my wife was doing her best NASCAR impression as we sped and weaved our way down the turnpike.

I would learn later that my son had panicked and tried to run back up the stairs. Ostensibly with the thought that he could do something about the fire. The smoke was so hot that it singed his hair. Thankfully the heat and smoke stopped him before he could get far. Later we would find the detector in that hallway had completely melted from the heat and smoke.

The fire was a horrific experience, what happened next was even worse.

I’ve had this idea bouncing around in my head for several months “What have I learned from this experience and how can I help others avoid the mistakes we made”. It’s a weird mix of reasons part altruistic, part therapy and maybe a knock to the entire “after the fire” industry. The first question you may have is why did it take so long for me to write about the fire? The easy answer is because it’s hard. Not just the writing but all the emotions that it brings back. In a very real way writing about the fire means reliving the experience. Not sure that I’m ready for that but it’s past time to get the story out of my head. It’s part story and part lessons learned but it’s all meant to help. I’m fine, my family is fine, I’m writing this to show you the endlessly complex and terrible reality of what happens after the fire. With luck you’ll never have to go through this. Just in case you do, here’s my story and what we learned.

It's 10:30PM on March 22nd. It’s cold but not unbearably so. My wife, two kids, two dogs, stepdaughter and her boyfriend are standing on the front lawn looking at the house and wondering what to do now. Earlier in the evening the Fire Chief had a chance to speak with that’s my oldest. He said things like “it’s not livable” and “It’s not safe”. In short, don’t go back in. So we found some flashlights and set about exploring. First lesson learned: Do what the Fire Chief says. Panic, adrenaline, and emotional exhaustion are not when you make good decisions. Have you ever been in a sewer surrounded by noxious fumes and lit a bag of hair on fire? Me either, but I’m sure it smelled better than my house. Here’s another tip: if you’re in an area where it hurts to breathe then you should leave. Quickly.

Our fire was classified as “high heat and heavy smoke”. We were unbelievably lucky in that the fire was contained to the upper floor. Our upper floor consists of a short hallway at the top of the stairs with a door on either side. There is a bedroom on either side in a jack and jill set up. ?The fire started in my son’s room. His door was closed to the hallway and to the bathroom. If those doors had not been closed this would be a much different story. The firemen also got there within minutes. Any longer and again, much different story.

One of the first things that happens when you have a fire is that they pull the main off the house, so you have no electricity. I mean that literally, they pull the meter off the house. They also turn off and disconnect the gas. To get them reconnected and turned back on turns out to be just as difficult as you may think but that’s for much, much later.

We had only been in the house for just over two years. It still felt very new and had really just got it to the point where it felt like our house. Everything was put away, new furniture was in place and pictures were on the wall. I say that as an explanation for all the bad decisions we were about to make. Shock does funny things to a person. An excellent example would be walking into a dark house that was just on fire. For reasons I still don’t understand we thought it would be a good idea to clean up. It was dark, cold and noxious but our house was really a mess. Here’s the thing about firemen. They are heroes to the core, that’s a fact. They are also much like Godzilla walking through the city and leaving a wake of destruction behind them. More accurately, a team of Godzilla’s walking though your house. They don’t mean to leave destruction everywhere they go but the fire is a bit more pressing. While the fire was contained upstairs the smoke damage was literally everywhere. There was soot, debris, pieces of wall, water and insulation everywhere we looked. Obviously the first thing you think of is cleaning the wood floors.

Seeing the results of the fire by flashlight is not an emotion I can easily explain. It’s warring emotions of "hey it’s not so bad" and "can we recover from this?".

In our shock-induced frenzy of house cleaning we had a couple more brilliant ideas. The electricity is going to be out for a couple of days (we were so young and naive) so we should get stuff out of the freezers and refrigerators. We had just gone to Sam’s, so we were flush on fridge and freezer stuff. I also have a collection of over seven thousand comics stored in long cardboard boxes. Around 30 of the long boxes along with various other collectibles. All stored in the basement. In my smoke addled mind I thought it would be a great idea to move all the boxes into a separate storage area. By now we have split up into teams and we are moving boxes, cleaning floors, and clearing out the fridges (yes plural). All by flashlight in my disaster area of a house.

Now it’s midnight. We have 4 people and two large dogs. Everybody is exhausted, we stink terribly, everybody has a headache and we need somewhere to stay. Luckily my wife and I have our bags and have some bathroom supplies and a change of clothes. My oldest has some stuff at their friends but the clothes they have on are trashed. My son has nothing but the clothes on his back and those are beyond ruined.

I’m going to go ahead and state the obvious. Those are all bad decisions. Like momentously bad decisions.

Here’s what we should have done:

• Once you are out of the house and safe and the Fire department has been called.
• Call your insurance company. They will get the process rolling and find you a place to stay. For now, make the call and get out of the way.
• Don’t go back in the house. Seriously, just don’t. Plenty of time for that later.
• Leave everything. Don’t take anything out of the house. You’ll come to learn that smoke damage is absolutely the worst. Leave it all and figure it out later.
• Take care of yourself. Take care of your family. If your together, safe and unharmed then all the rest is just stuff.

That was day one. It’s hard to believe but it will get way worse before it gets better. Next time we’ll get into the main part of the story: Surviving after the fire.

Take care of yourself.

TKO

TKO