慈濟傳播人文志業基金會

You Can't Go Back to the Past, But You Can Change the Future

By Li Wei-huang Translated by Tang Yau-yang Photos by Hsiao Yiu-hwa

A burn patient and a friend walk down a hallway in Taipei Tzu Chi Hospital in late August, about two months after the explosion.

On the evening of June 27, 2015, a large “Color Play Asia” party was held at the Formosa Fun Coast water park in Bali, New Taipei City. Colored corn starch powder was sprayed into the air to add to the excitement. Without any warning, the powder exploded. Nearly 500 people were injured, most of them young. Fourteen victims perished from this tragic accident. As of November 3, more than four months later, 43 remained hospitalized. That number included 10 in intensive care, 9 of whom were in critical condition.

In mid-July, I went with Tzu Chi volunteers to visit victims hospitalized in Shuang Ho Hospital, Zhonghe, New Taipei City. The volunteers had visited these victims numerous times before.

Lin Chun-jin (林春金) brought some fried mushrooms that she had just prepared at her home nearby. Fang Su-zhu (方素珠) brought creamy corn soup, also homemade. We had a small get-together with patients’ families over the delicious and heartwarming food.

Nibbling on the food, a father burst into tears. Then he said to the volunteers, as if confiding in trusted friends, “I’ve never shed tears like this in my whole life.” He had thought that his daughter would have stabilized enough to be transferred out of the ICU that day, but his hope was dashed. Her respiratory tract had suffered burns from the hot gases she had inhaled, so the doctors had to keep her in the ICU. The father had endured such emotional rollercoaster rides almost every day since his daughter had been hospitalized.

His heart was aching not just for his daughter’s condition, but for that of other patients as well. One patient had to have his small intestines excised, while another lost the tips of some fingers to gangrene. One had improved and left the ICU only to be sent back a short while later. Yet another had his intubation withdrawn, only to have it put back again later.

“Whenever I hear bad news about any other patient, I worry about my daughter,” the father said. He had as a result been constantly high-strung and on edge. He had no idea how to face the future.

Even when his daughter got better and went home with him, that would signal yet another stage of her care, and with it more worry and pressure.

A woman said that she actually began to worry when the doctor told her that her husband would be discharged soon because that meant that she would soon be without the help of hospital personnel. “Once we go home, what am I going to do with the bandages on his legs? How am I going to bathe and shampoo him?” she asked. Thoughts like those kept her up at nights.

A Tzu Chi volunteer helps a family member put on an isolation gown at Far Eastern Memorial Hospital in New Taipei City. Photo by Yang Shun-bin

What it’s like to be burned

On July 18, over four thousand Tzu Chi volunteers gathered in 25 branch offices to take a lesson on burns via video conferencing. Du Xiu-xiu (杜秀秀), a manager at the Sunshine Social Welfare Foundation, talked to the volunteers about serving burn patients and the psychological journey of such patients. According to their website, the Sunshine Foundation provides “professional services for burn survivors and people with facial disfigurement in the hope of helping them live their lives with confidence.”

“Burn victims fear not just fire, but also water. If water gets into a burn wound, the pain is beyond what ordinary people can possibly imagine.

“When burn victims stand up, blood rushes to their lower extremities, making them feel like tens of thousands of ants are nibbling on their legs. Therefore they’ll keep fidgeting or running in place in small steps. Passersby may find such behavior weird.

“Burn patients are less energetic, so they may need to sit in priority seats on public transportation, raising eyebrows. As a result, they often get hurt psychologically after their physical injuries.”

Scar contractures, pressure garments, and physical rehabilitation splints were among the unfamiliar terms I noted down during Du’s talk. While copying down those terms, I pondered the daunting challenges facing a burn patient. If I hadn’t come to the talk, I wouldn’t have been able to imagine the difficulties that lie ahead of burn victims on their long and arduous road back into society.

Come to think of it, burn survivors have always lived among us, but we seem to rarely see them. Is it because we mentally block them out, or because they avoid public appearances? Do our prejudices or sincere but inappropriate expressions of care stand in the way of their recovery and reintegration?

Mental reconstruction

Families of 13 victims, including five victims themselves, visited the Guandu Tzu Chi Complex on September 9. They met with Master Cheng Yen to share with her what they had been through since the explosion more than two months earlier.

Some of the victims from those 13 families had already been discharged from their hospitals; others had been moved out of the ICUs into regular wards. Some were still in the ICUs, fighting for their lives.

One of the families had two children burned in the explosion. Their daughter had died and her younger brother was still in the ICU. He kept asking about how his older sister was doing, but his mother could not tell him the truth. Their father was overly sad. He earns a livelihood by making and selling tea seed oil. To assuage his sadness, volunteers ordered tea seed oil from him to encourage him to return to his work so that he could have something else on which to focus.

A young man had to have his legs amputated below the knees to save his life. His right hand was also amputated later to fend off infection. His father had accompanied him at the hospital every day. He said in tears, “We’re just ordinary parents. We never thought something like this would happen to us, and we really don’t know how to handle it.”

He had never expected his son to be rich, he said. He had just hoped that he would be safe and well. Now that this tragedy had struck, he didn’t know how his son, only 22, should face his future. “My mind is in a turmoil, but I know I have to pull myself together and face the challenge ahead,” he said. “In fact, my son has been cheering me up. He’s told me not to pull a long face. I pray that he may keep his only hand. Even just a few fingers would be good.”

His wife said to the victims and family members there, “Cherish what you’ve got and seriously follow the rehabilitation regimen. If it hurts when you do the rehab, just think of my son.” Though her son was in a dire situation, he had kept up his desire to live. When his intubation tube was removed a month after the accident and he took his first sip of water, he exclaimed, “This is divine!” She admired his optimism and his strong thirst to live.

A victim who had been discharged from hospital said, “On the day of the explosion, I experienced fun, terror, unconsciousness, and shock. But today, I feel loved.” At one point he worried that he would not make it, but he urged himself to hang in there because he knew how much his mother was afraid of losing him. “I didn’t have the right to be weak.”

Every step in his treatment—wound cleaning, skin grafting, hydrotherapy, dressing changing, and physical rehabilitation—caused him excruciating pain, but he never groaned or cried. He did not want to inflict any more pain on those who cared about him. Not only that, he always said bravely to his therapists, “No problem. Please proceed.”

He told himself to get well no matter what. “I want to be a good son, and I want to live for my friends who died in the explosion.”

After hearing the stories of the 13 families, the Master said, “Our children are injured, but all of us feel the pain. I hope that our volunteers can continue to accompany them. I also hope that no mental scars will be left in the minds of these young people.”

Medical workers at Taipei Tzu Chi Hospital race against the clock to save lives. The hospital admitted 13 burn victims from the disaster at the Formosa Fun Coast water park.

Amazing outcomes

According to the National Health Insurance Administration in the Ministry of Health and Welfare, the 499 explosion victims, on average, suffered burns over 44 percent of their total body surface area (TBSA). According to the medical literature, a patient whose burns cover more than 40 percent of his or her TBSA has a mortality rate of 50 percent. However, by late September, 70 percent of the explosion victims had been discharged from hospital. The medical care providers at the hospitals have done a good job, and they deserve credit. Dr. Lin Chin-lon (林俊龍), CEO of the Tzu Chi medical mission, indicated that many medical professionals in other countries described those results as miraculous. He praised the caregivers for their professionalism and dedication. “They may have set a world record in burn care,” he said.

The medical professionals have done a good job, but the courage of many patients also merits recognition.

My heart was heavy when I first interviewed some burn patients. I worried about their future. But as I spent more time with them, their hard work in rehab touched me deeply. Their tenacity radiated a life force that was deeply moving and full of hope.

As Du Xiu-xiu of the Sunshine Foundation pointed out, returning home marks the beginning of new travails and challenges for the burn patients. They have to come to terms with the new conditions of their bodies; they have to accept the fact that they may not have as much control over their bodies as before; and they need to learn to deal with people’s furtive glances.

As they learn to live in their new reality, our society at large should also learn not to slap labels on them. Even with all the support they can get, it is hard enough for them to live their new lives. Trying to empathize with them and accept them as they are is one of the best gifts we can give these burn patients.