by Pitt, Turia
How are you my crazy little brother? Today Michael bought me some inspirational clothing; for example a shirt with ‘Believe you can do it’ on the front. So believing I could do it, I tried to walk on uneven ground and I stumbled, failing to catch my steps and I fell but Michael caught me. I was ten centimetres away from the ground. Michael really saved the day but unfortunately he caught me on the sorest part of my chest which resulted in your sister and your Mum yelling at him. But we all had a laugh after it, Mum the most; Mum always laughs the most.
So Christmas! How awesome it’s going to be! I can’t wait to see Genji and Angela’s place, and you two of course. Also pretty keen to see the presents you guys got me (hehehe). The best presents would be a big kiss from my brothers, Toriki and Heimanu.
Love you, infinitely.
Sissy
Christmas Day 2011 arrived and Michael and Célestine helped prepare Turia for her big day ‘out’. She had to wear her compression garments but Célestine put her in a colourful long-sleeved top. They arrived at Genji and Angela’s; John and the boys were already there waiting for the big arrival. With Michael and Célestine supporting her and John pushing from the rear they helped Turia up the stairs while the others stood at the top cheering her on. When she finally arrived she cried – this time from happiness.
After an hour Michael drove her back to hospital. Another milestone achieved; the next step was to get Turia well enough to go home.
Turia’s hands were slow to heal and she had limited movement with them but she continually challenged herself to learn ways to compensate for other movements. Occupational therapy involved working at a variety of activities, such as carrying rings, pegs and fine motor puzzles, all of which were aimed at helping tighten the pincer grip she had with the remaining fingers on her left hand. Frank, her physiotherapist, put her through a regimen of exercises and stretches to strengthen her muscles and movements.
Turia gradually became involved in taking off the dressings on her chest and moisturising the areas she could reach on her legs and torso and as the weeks went by she became more adept at other activities, such as collecting linen and making her bed and moving things around the room. Occupational therapists had made a special long-handled spoon so Turia could feed herself but she found eating even three mouthfuls a challenge and a frustration.
Friday 3 February 2012 was a big day at the Burns Unit. The nursing staff and everyone else who had come to know the gutsy Turia during her five-month stay, and her struggle to survive, popped in to say goodbye and wish her well. Michael and Célestine then helped Turia into the little blue car for the drive from the hospital to a local rehabilitation centre. Her discharge papers included wound and scar management plans, physiotherapy and occupational therapy instructions and a set of compression garments, including three black face masks. She weighed 45 kilograms and her 178-centimetre frame was stooped like an old woman’s – exactly as Professor Maitz had warned Michael all those weeks earlier – but she was out!
THIRTEEN
THE ORGANISER’S RESPONSE
OVER THE MONTHS OF TURIA’S FIGHT FOR LIFE IN HOSPITAL, Michael and the Pitt family became increasingly bewildered by what they saw as a completely insensitive response by RacingthePlanet to the tragedy. In a one-page letter addressed to the ‘Dear Family of Turia Pitt’ and dated 10 September 2011 – one week after the event – Mary Gadams wrote of her ‘deep concern’ for Turia’s injuries. Everyone at RacingthePlanet was ‘shocked’ that it could have happened and had Turia ‘constantly’ in their ‘thoughts and prayers’.
Given the serious nature of Turia’s medical condition, the letter continued, Mary Gadams had asked RtP’s medical director for the race, Dr Brandee Waite, to be the channel of communications with the family in case they wished to make contact with RtP. At the same time it had been internally reviewing all the events surrounding the tragedy to make sure it could explain as ‘accurately as possible’ how Turia came to be injured.
The letter went on to say that contrary to the tone of many of the press reports in Australia, RtP had undertaken ‘comprehensive management and risk assessment’ planning for the event and put proper risk and emergency procedures in place. The letter stated that in all its discussions in the run-up to the event ‘not a single mention was made to us, or warning given, that scattered grass fires which are common in the Kimberley at this time of the year had the potential to flare up and pose a hazard to the event’.
She listed all the precautions they had taken and added that while she was devastated that none of them had stopped the tragedy from happening, ‘at least we were able to get help to Turia as soon as possible given the rugged nature of the terrain’.
That comment in particular incensed Michael; how could anyone think four hours was ‘as soon as possible’?
The RtP owner said she knew the family’s focus would be on Turia’s recovery but offered to come to Sydney any time to meet them and discuss what had happened; she gave a contact number. (Kate’s family got a similar letter.)
After this Michael received several phone calls from Brandee Waite, who had returned to the United States, asking for updates. After not checking his email for a couple of days he found he had two consecutive emails from Dr Waite informing him that Mary Gadams wanted to do a 60 Minutes story on the ‘amazing recovery effort’.
Michael’s return email expressed his extreme disappointment about the way RtP was handling matters: Turia was fighting for her life and they wanted to do a 60 Minutes story! He said he no longer wanted to hear from Waite because he thought attention was being taken away from Turia. Dr Waite said she understood and would pass on his disappointment to Mary.
The Pitt family were further upset by a Christmas card sent to Turia signed by Mary Gadams and members of the RtP staff; did they really think Turia wanted a cheery Christmas wish? Even a bunch of flowers would have been more appropriate.
The next communication Michael had from the RtP owner was an email on 12 January 2012, saying that she had heard from Brandee Waite that Turia’s family no longer wanted to be contacted, which she thought was entirely understandable given their focus would be on providing support for Turia. She hoped the family had received her letter explaining what happened in the ‘tragic accident’. Mary Gadams asked Michael if he and Turia’s family would like to meet her to answer any additional questions they might have when she was visiting Australia in two weeks.
Michael responded with an email the following day:
Hi Mary
Ok I’ll start by the following, where has RacingthePlanet support been for Turia? Simple question. Turia received a Christmas card from you guys which really rubbed salt into our wounds! I will not vent anger towards you through words as it will not achieve anything. You must be a clever and professional person being the founder of RacingthePlanet. Therefore I would assume you are a reasonable person. However, where has your support, acknowledgement and responsibility been?
Circumstances would have been made easier if you were able to acknowledge what happened and taken some responsibility. I will meet with you if you are going to support Turia in her journey to recovery. However, if you are only going to try and explain to me what you guys did to prevent this from happening I am not interested. I am only presuming you will do this as there has been lack of support for Turia, so I could be wrong.
Turia has lost all fingers on her right hand, her elbows are fused and she cannot touch her face or feed herself. Turia is totally dependent!
If you are willing to help yes let’s meet up; if not, enjoy your time in Sydney.
Thanks
Turia’s Family and Michael Hoskin
Mary Gadams replied on 13 January saying she ‘completely understood’ that they didn’t want to meet to discuss the event itself but she wanted to get a clearer picture of any concerns they might have and that a meeting would be useful to get a clearer idea of ‘the issues would be useful’.
Michael responded on 19 January:
Mary Gadams’ response the same day was to ask if the meeting could be moved to Wednesday morning, as she was actually scheduled to arrive on Tuesday night, but she would be very glad to finally meet Turia’s family.
Michael’s response same day:
Turia’s family are in Sydney on Monday before heading back down the coast. So Monday would be best. We have a room organised at the burns unit where we can all discuss your support for Turia. Now I just want to make one thing clear – that you guys RacingthePlanet are willing to support and help Turia on her road to recovery? Because if you are not willing to help support her the meeting should not take place. So around 1pm?
Mary Gadams’ response the next day – 20 January – was that while she could not meet on the basis of Michael’s email, she still believed it would be helpful to meet with him, Turia’s doctors and her family. To get to Sydney by Monday, she would need to know by Friday to arrange flights.
Michael replied the same day:
It’s your call like I said if you are willing to help and support Turia come to the meeting; we will be waiting at the burns unit on Monday at 1pm.
Mary Gadams’ reply, still 20 January, was a plea for him to understand that she was not in a position to discuss ‘help and support’ for Turia at that meeting. But it would be helpful to get a clearer understanding of the ‘issues’ Turia faced.
Michael, calm by nature but now absolutely furious, wrote:
We ask for help and support. You have failed to do this so far, you fail to help and support us in the future. There will be no meeting. Have given you an idea of how Turia is – dependant!
Mary Gadams responded immediately that she was sorry that they would not be able to meet but perhaps ‘sometime in the future.’
And that was it.
Next Michael received an email from the RacingthePlanet owner on 9 February apologising for not being able to meet to discuss Turia’s injuries but advising him that RacingthePlanet still had Turia’s backpack, which had been given to them at the gorge where Turia was injured; where would he like it sent? The email concluded with a message wishing Turia ‘a speedy recovery’.
This email was almost the last straw for Michael. If he found the message that Mary Gadams wanted to return Turia’s backpack extremely insensitive, the last line – ‘a speedy recovery’ – was a total punch in the gut. Did these people have no idea at all? Didn’t anyone do their homework on severe burns victims and understand the fact that it would take years for Turia to live some sort of a normal life; that she would never, ever be the same again, both psychologically and physically.
Michael heard nothing more from Mary Gadams; that is until the push for a government inquiry into the event gathered momentum in late February 2012. Then, on 28 February, she sent a letter addressed to the ‘Dear Pitt Family’ regarding what she called the ‘extensive media commentary regarding the fire which seriously injured two competitors, Turia Pitt and Kate Sanderson’.
The letter set out in painstaking detail everything RacingthePlanet had done before and during the event to maintain the safety of the competitors – and presumably everyone else involved, such as staff and volunteers, although they weren’t mentioned.
However, as the subsequent inquiry found, many of the claims made in this letter – of precautions taken, communications and time lines involved in the rescue – were misleading or just plain wrong.
Michael and the Pitt family did not respond.
RacingthePlanet was to get all the real information of how Turia, Kate and the others sustained their injuries at the inquiry.
FOURTEEN
MY LIFE AFTER
GOING INTO THE HOSPITAL IN KUNUNURRA IS THE LAST THING I remember before waking up semi-conscious in ICU at Concord Hospital. I was heavily drugged and very confused. That day when Michael first saw me in the ICU and spoke to me and I apparently twice turned my face and looked at him – I don’t remember that. I remember little about my weeks in ICU. I thought I was living in Tahiti and Michael was not only my partner but also my doctor and we had a child. Every day I’d ask the doctors or nurses what happened because I would forget. Sometimes I would get flashbacks of the fire but I couldn’t quite get a grasp of what happened.
When I first woke up with a tracheotomy, my only means of communication was to point and nod and shake my head to commands. It was beyond frustrating; it was hopeless. No one ever really knew what I wanted. My first real means of communicating was when my family eventually brought in a whiteboard and strapped a texta to my hand and I would write words on it. As bad as it was, it was an improvement, and I was able to write things like ‘pain’, ‘drink’, ‘What happened?’ Once, when I was heavily sedated, I asked if I was in a mental institution. Another time I asked if I was in prison.
After the tracheotomy was removed I was able to talk but my voice was a whisper. The first thing I asked for was a sip of Coke – my mouth was as dry as the desert. The Coke tasted so amazing I just kept asking for more and more; I was fantasising about swimming in a pool of Coke and being able to drink as much as I wanted. I then asked for some fresh juice, and more and more of that too. I drank nearly two litres. It was the first time I had consumed liquid by mouth for weeks and my body was not ready for such a large amount of fluid; so of course I spewed.
Being able to talk again meant I was able to tell my family a little of what happened; I told them about the fire and how we were trapped but in the end I didn’t speak much about it at all. I don’t think my family really understood what had happened to me. But as I was still very frail in hospital, they didn’t ask me a lot of questions. I tried to tell Genji but I just got too emotional.
Once I moved into the Burns Unit I began to realise how bad I was and I wanted to die. Michael would come in and say, ‘Aren’t you happy that you’re alive?’ And I would think, Fuck no; I wish I was dead.
It was hard for me because Michael and my family were all so happy that I was still here but I could not feel this at all. What did I have to live for? My feelings of wanting to die continued for a long time, even after I left hospital. The first time I felt really happy to be alive was when I took part in the Sydney City2Surf with my friends and family in August 2012.
When I had the tracheotomy in, I couldn’t speak. It was intensely painful when the nurses rolled me over to change the sheets or my dressings but I couldn’t utter a sound to let them know they were hurting me; I could only cry.
I remember once looking at the little cleaner busily mopping the floor and I would have done anything to swap places with him; I was so intensely jealous of his life. Before the fire my life was just great – a great job, a great partner, a great family. I thought about all the things Michael and I used to do in Kununurra – camping, lying in the warm night air looking up at the stars, rock climbing, jumping into waterholes – all sorts of crazy stuff. I cried a lot.
My hands were bandaged for a couple of months; even though I was still heavily sedated and no one had yet told me my fingers were gone, when I lifted my right hand with its bulky dressing where my long fingers once were, I knew deep down there was something wrong. When the doctors told me they had amputated my fingers I cried the tears of overwhelming loss.
The first time I saw my face was terrible. I had been asking and asking about my face and everyone was saying I looked a bit different; that I’d just lost my nose but the doctors would fix it up. When Michael and Mum fed me, the food would fall between my lip and teeth and I didn’t know what my lips looked like. I asked Dad to bring my iPad in and that’s when I saw my reflection – my whole face had b
een grafted. It wasn’t my face staring back at me. I burst into tears and cried for at least an hour – I could not stop.
I guess I had taken my good looks for granted; I used to think girls who cared about their appearance were vain so I was disappointed with myself for caring so much. I had always identified myself as a sporty, active girl who happened to have good looks as well. And there I was, bedridden with even my looks destroyed. How could I still be me?
Things like surfing and running were totally beyond my reach when I could barely walk 5 metres. After that I avoided looking in mirrors or at anything that might show my reflection. I was also very pissed off because I thought everyone had lied to me when they said it would be fine, that I just looked a bit different. Although obviously it wouldn’t be fair to be angry with them because what could they say – ‘Yeah, you look pretty fucking ugly’? Of course no one is going to say that.
In hospital I was a skinhead but my hair grew back and that helped. I avoided my reflection for a very long time – perhaps a year – until my psychologist suggested that perhaps it was time I started accepting the new Turia. Now I am comfortable with my appearance as I remind myself that it will only get better.
There were quite a few other confronting hurdles ahead of me, especially during those first few months in hospital. One of them was the first time Mum saw me struggling painfully to walk; I was taking little shuffling steps in big boots along the corridor, supported by all these people, and when Mum saw me she cried. Until then I had never seen Mum cry about what had happened to me; Mum rarely cries – I have only seen her cry a handful of times in my life. That was the first time and only time I had seen her cry over what had happened to me. It always makes me emotional to think about that day; if my super-positive mum was crying then – reality set in – things must be pretty dismal.
Seeing my legs for the first time was hard to handle too because I’d always had great legs. The nurse took the dressings off my legs and I remember they stank – even I could smell it. I looked at my legs and they were a bloody mess. I felt repulsed just looking at them; what would other people think if even I found them disgusting? Although my feet weren’t burnt, they were still bad – covered in scabs – and my toes were black.