Five Seconds in Hell

My life was changed this past summer. I was at my cousin's house helping him with yard work, including chopping a lot of wood. My uncle and I loaded up the back of the tractor and carried about three trees-­worth of branches, limbs, and scruff to use for a fire. As we were finishing about 8:30 or so, the sky grew dark. I took it upon myself to start the bon­fire, so that we could see what we were doing (we wouldn't want anyone to get hurt chopping wood with an ax in the dark or anything). While my uncle went to do something else, I tried to find something with which to start the fire. I asked my cousin if he had any lighter fluid that I could use to start the fire, and he said, "No:'

"Well, what about gasoline?" I said, and he showed me two five-gallon jugs of gas. Both being full, I grabbed one and went toward the brush pile. I poured about four gallons out onto, around, and almost everywhere there was wood. Finishing, I made a little gas trail on the ground, so that I could just stand back and light it.

The ambu­lance person­nel and the doctors told me that, because of the humidity, the four gal­lons of gas had spread about twenty gallons of fumes into the air all around me. Standing about ten feet away from the fifteen-foot pile, I leaned forward with the lighter. All of a sudden everything was on fire. The explosion went thirty feet into the sky and all around me. I don't remember turning around-just running away from the fire with flames eating away at both my legs and arm. As I ran out of the two-thousand-degree bon­fire, the flames engulfed the ground in front of me about fifteen feet faster than I could get out of the flames.

There was no earth, no sky, no weeds or grass around me anymore-just fire. All I could see around me was fire. As I screamed at the top of my lungs, I could feel the fire eating away at my flesh. I can't really explain how it felt or what I saw in those eternal five or ten seconds, but I praise God that I am alive and didn't trip over something or give up because of the pain (going through my mind at the time) or burn my face. I can't understand any other way except that God put His hand over my face and the rest of my body. Only the eyelashes on my right eye were singed together.

Finally, I broke out of the fire, after running about a hundred yards. I looked down at my legs and arm to see smoke coming off them. I heard my uncle and cousins screaming to jump into the pool; so I took off my T-shirt and hat. I couldn't unbutton my shorts because the button was red hot at the time; so I pulled them off and jumped in. When I fell head­first into the four-foot-deep pool, I felt relief for a split second by God's mercy. Then it hit me again-all of the agonizing pain (that my body could not handle any other way except to shake uncontrollably) tore through my body with intense force. As I came to the surface, the only words out of my mouth were, "I can't believe I did that. I can't believe I did that. Oh, God, what's happening to me? Please, help me! Please, please, please God!"

I never really concentrated on any of the faces surrounding me, able only to listen to people screaming out com­mands and directions. "Take off your sneakers before your feet swell up:' I heard as the pool water faded into and out of focus. Two large, sickening pieces of skin floated in front of me as I made my way out of the pool. All I could smell was gas, and all I could feel was fire.

My uncle brought me a blanket to put around myself as we made our way to the car. Since we were out in rural New York, and the volunteer ambulance would take more time to get to us than it would for us to get to it, we drove. The ride to the ambulance made me realize how small and worthless my life had become in a matter of seconds. Yes, this is the part where my life passed before my eyes. My uncle kept yelling, more likely out of fear than anger. Then everything went black. . . totally black. I shook uncontrollably still and couldn't see anything.

For the first time in my life, I honestly felt that I was going to die. "What about my family-who will tell them what really happened or that I love them-just one last time? School, friends-what about them? I miss them bad enough being away for the summer, and now I won't be able to look at them again. More important, my church and all the people that have prayed for me and been by my side through all of the problems over the years. . . too many things to do, Lord-let me take just one last breath without pain, and then I will be ready to come home:'

All of the people that I had a chance to witness to that I left behind-how irresponsible and stupid of me. I had my chance to live sold-out and look what I have accomplished barely any­thing! "Please, God, give me one more chance, and I will make a difference. I will live the way I ought to live, the way that I promised to live for You so many years ago. God, please- I beg of You-show me Your mercy one more time:'

The next thing I saw was the pavement in the parking lot of the Bergen Vol­unteer Ambulance Department. The ambulance crew carted me into the ambulance and strapped me to the gurney. Being only volunteers, they had no medication and hardly any supplies to help with the burning that pulsated through my body. Only paper towels and purified water cov­ered my body for the next twenty-five minutes. Being strapped to that bed felt like days, days of pain. But it was only five seconds of Hell; how could it have been so painful? What about those that are burning in Hell right

now-the lost family and friends that have been there for the past five min­utes, five days, five years?

I was burned on July 2, 1999, a Friday night, with second- and third-degree burns on twenty-five percent of my body. I praise God that He took me in His hands to sleep that night, for the next twenty-three days of pain were waiting for me with open arms. The nights were filled with all kinds of terror and pain as nightmares flooded my head. The doctor's only comfort was that it was the medication that was making me see and hear things throughout the night.

On July 26, I underwent skin-grafting surgery. Two six-inch by twelve-inch rectangles of skin were shaved from my upper thighs and replaced onto my ankles and calves that morning. When I woke up later that day, I could not believe the new pain that found my body and that I had to endure for the next week or so. Slowly, over time, I could withstand the pain, but then something else waited to attack my body: itching!

To this day, I still can't stand the itch­ing, but I thank God that this is the only thing I have to live with now. In my morning showers I have to scrub and trim the loose skin from my legs, so that it does not get infected or grow back deformed. I must keep them out of any kind of sun or even heat for twelve to eighteen months.

The doctor assured me that there is no reason why I couldn't live a perfectly normal life from now on, but he was wrong. My life will never be the same. I got a taste of what Hell is really like, and the two thousand degrees that melted away my flesh was nothing compared to the eternal torment that most of this world must regrettably face. The burden that God has given me is something for which I am grate­ful and willing to use throughout the rest of my life. I thank God it was just my legs and not my soul.

Written by Jesse Loiacono, '01 Pensacola Christian College senior.