by Ronda Marie

Created on: May 29, 2008

I was born in 1976. By the time I turned six months old my father was on his way to a new

life that did not include my mother, me or my older brother and sister. I don't know the

facts of my parent's relationship, but only what each has interpreted as their truth. They

divorced in November of 1976. However, on January 31, 1980, just 10 days after my fourth

birthday, my life would change forever and not until today did I realize just how much. We

can learn to live our lives or we can lie down and die. I chose to live mine.

In January of 1980 my mother left for work and I was in the care of my older siblings.

My brother and sister had been responsible for me most of the time because Mom worked two

jobs to support all of us on her own. On this particular evening, my sister had been invited

to a friend's birthday party. My sister, only being thirteen, decided that she would just

take me along to the party. The mother of the birthday girl was serving up soup and

sandwiches before cake and ice cream. While she prepared the meal we had goodie bags and

played games. However, my sister had asked me to throw away my candy wrappers in the

kitchen. As a four year old does, I went running through the house and into the kitchen and

suddenly I felt a burning sensation and I remember hearing everyone screaming different

things. The mother had tripped over me and dumped the entire pot of boiling chicken broth

over my body. She panicked and ripped my clothes from my body in an attempt to remove the

boiling broth from my skin. What she did not realize is that my skin had adhered to the

clothing and she tore my skin off with my clothing. Her hands looked as if they had melted

she had been burned too. People were covering me with freezing cold towels and in seconds

the ambulance arrived. My mother was phoned and arrived at the house approximately the same

time as the ambulance. My mother and my brother, who was being treated for shock, went along

in the ambulance with me. The first hospital I was rushed to treated me for shock and told

my mother I had sustained 1st degree burns. They placed me in a bed of ice, and explained

to my mother that they were going to send me home after my temperature was stable. My mother

argued that she would not take me home in that condition and after finally they arranged for

transport to a children's hospital. As I awaited the ambulance I could feel burning and I

will never forget the smell of my own burnt flesh. When I arrived at the children's

hospital, my parents were

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