Back to news

Burn camp allows kids to just be normal

10 June 2011

Burn camp allows kids to just be normal

Cincinnati.com
Written by John Johnston
June 10, 2011

OREGONIA - Before plunging into the pool at YMCA Camp Kern, a tall, athletic 14-year-old from Missouri explains why he's so happy to be here.

"It's just the feeling of being normal," says Joel Stokes, wearing a hat and T-shirt that conceal some of his scars, but not those on his arms. "Everybody's the same."

Burns are the common bond among the 45 young people ages 9 to 16 who've spent this week at Camp Kern, the host for Camp Ytiliba ("ability" spelled backward). The campers, who are from 17 states, have been treated at Shriners Hospitals for Children - Cincinnati, the pediatric burn center that sponsors the camp, which ends today.

• Audio slideshow: A look inside Camp Ytiliba

All their expenses, including transportation to and from the Warren County camp, are paid by donors.

Like many summer camps, this one, held since 1990, features fishing, archery, swimming, rafting and canoeing. It also offers camaraderie for children who have endured more than their share of physical and emotional pain.

"Here, they're just a kid," says Katie Schabell of Alexandria, a child life specialist at the hospital and one of 14 camp counselors, all but one of whom are hospital employees. "They don't worry about their burn injuries. They don't worry about their appearance. They get to hang out with other kids who've been through the same thing."

Some have small scars that are easily concealed. Others are missing fingers or ears. Some were burned over most of their body.

Joel, from the small Missouri town of Weaubleau, was just a year old when he slipped unnoticed out of his crib and grabbed the cord to a deep fryer. Hot grease scalded 30 percent of his body, including his head, chest and arms.

He removes his ever-present hat to show that after four head surgeries, he's sporting hair, although it's patchy. Both his arms are heavily scarred.

In public places, "A lot of people are almost afraid to talk to you or get near you," he says. "They think there's something wrong with you. It might be a skin disease, for all they know."

He and other campers don't shy away from discussing their injuries with new acquaintances.

"People ask what happened to me all the time," says Atarah Dickinson, a 16-year-old from Buffalo. "I don't mind talking about it. I would rather you ask me than to stare and whisper."

She was 5 years old when fire broke out in her bedroom. Trying to escape, she jumped from a top bunk bed into flames. Her mother rescued her, but more than 90 percent of the girl's body was burned. She's had about a dozen surgeries.

"I think she's coping very well," her father, Aterah Dickinson, says by phone. "The biggest thing we've been trying to instill in her is self-esteem, because it will get to a point in her life where people won't be so nice because she's not a kid anymore."

Schabell says the healing of young burn patients involves more than treating their physical wounds. Emotionally, some children struggle when they return home. Shriners Hospital arranges for children to go on a community outing before they are discharged, and the staff also helps ease their transition back to school.

The burn camp, she says, is another way to help ensure that children's emotional needs are being met.

Although there are no formal therapy sessions, informally the children learn much from fellow campers and counselors, as well as four junior counselors who also are burn survivors.

At night, after lights out, Schabell sees flashlights flicker on in the girls' part of the bunkhouse. "They're telling stories about boys," she says, "and about burns."

Says Hannah Wilson, 20, a junior counselor from Taylor Mill: "They can talk and ask questions: How did you deal with this? What can I do to make this transition better? How can I be more comfortable in my own skin?"

Three years ago, Wilson was watching a Fourth of July fireworks show on her street when an 8-inch mortar shell wedged between her right hip and the ground. It exploded, threw her three feet into the air, and caused third-degree burns on her hip and second-degree burns on her calves and right hand.

She spent two weeks at Shriners Hospital; in December she had her eighth - and she hopes final - surgery.

For a time, she avoided wearing a bathing suit because of her scars. But she got over that.

Her message to campers: "If (people) like you for you, that's awesome. If they judge you by what you look like on the outside, that's their problem, not yours."

She says she admires campers such as 14-year-old Danny Happy who, despite having injuries far worse than hers, maintain a great attitude.

Almost four years ago, an airplane crashed into Danny's Sanford, Fla., home. Five people died, including his 4-year-old sister. Danny suffered second- and third-degree burns over 95 percent of his body.

He was airlifted from a Florida hospital to Shriners Hospital in Cincinnati, where he spent eight months. He now lives in Clifton, and continues to be treated at the hospital on an outpatient basis.

After a morning of team relay races and swimming, a break for lunch, and an introduction to horseback riding, Danny and several other campers and counselors gather in the camp's Elk Lodge to concoct a recipe for a chili cook-off.

The gregarious teen offers a running commentary as he samples spices, until a pinch of red pepper sends him scrambling for a water bottle.

"That packs a punch!" he says between gulps.

It's his third year at burn camp.

"I just like hanging out with friends," he says later, on his way to archery. "It's kind of cool to talk to people who've gotten burned. Some people feel like they're the only one."

And for some, feelings of isolation might start to take hold again today as campers say goodbye to friends and venture back into a society that places heavy emphasis on appearance. Joel Stokes, who will head back home to Missouri, says it shouldn't be that way.

"We're no different than anybody else. We're just people with scars. You just have to look through them and see the person."