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Writer's pictureMooreHappyVibes

The Rise of the Phoenix, Part 1

This will be a two part, possibly three part series, written in honor of my awesome father, Kennth Charles Moore, better known as K.C. I should have written this one a long time ago, as he sets the precedent for any man who I have ever let into my life.


*take a big deep breath in*

*exhales*


There is nothing like a father’s love for his daughter, and that definitely rings true for my father. If you have had the opportunity to meet my dad and have a conversation with him, then most likely you look up to him, respect him, love him even. He is the most unconditionally loving human I have ever known, and he loves to a fault. He is the type of man that would, quite literally, give you the shirt off of his back.

My dad and I have a special bond, that he doesn’t really have with any of my other siblings. We both have a comeback story, though I think my dad‘s is much cooler than mine. You see he was born into an unstable family, alcoholic father, Japanese immigrant mother, and 5 siblings. He ended up being taken from his parents at a young age and spent most of his childhood growing up in a catholic orphanage, where the abuse ran rampant: sexual, physical, mental, emotional. He used to tell us stories about how the nuns thought of punishment with an “all for one and one for all“ mentality. So if one did something they would all be punished. This was the first test for my dad, his orphanage training taught him to be grateful for any blessings he received in life, whether big or small, taught him how to stick up for himself, and began to prepare him mentally and emotionally for the biggest test he would have to go through in the future. It also turned him into the biggest candy addict I've ever known, lol.


When my daddy left the orphanage he went to live with my grandmother in New York. She had since divorced my grandfather and remarried. My dad says when he was in New York it was super rough. I don’t think he lived in the best part of the city and the walk to school could be dangerous. He’s told us about a time or two when he was beat up by some of the local gangs while he was on the subway. Right before dad started college he acquired a job at a slaughter house in Plattsburgh NY. He says he was living there while he worked for the family when he received a phone call from my uncle with the news of his mother’s passing. My dad doesn’t really seem like he had a serious emotional connection with his mom, but when he talks about her, you can hear how proud she seemed to be of him. He was always a straight arrow and kept his nose in his books and my grandmother always encouraged him to finish school and go to college.


Right before my father started college he moved home to Louisiana and got a job at an oil refinery. He did the dirty work of cleaning out the petroleum tanks, crawling in and out of man holes all day long. On August 4, 1981, my dad's life would change forever. He was positioning a man way with jet nozzles attached to it, which he says they had to use a crane to lift it because it was too heavy. Fumes from the tank caused the engine to backfire causing the tank to blow up internally forcing the flames 🔥 to rush out through the manhole with enough force to throw him in the air. He was covered with crude oil which had to burn off of him first, and his hard hat that he was wearing was thrown off, he lost his shirt to the flames and his pants and fruit of the loom under wear melted to his legs. He said he thanks God for them otherwise I literally wouldn't be here to tell the story. 😳 My dad's re-counts of the incident are insane. He told us he was thrown back about 20 feet and knocked unconscious, he doesn't know how long he was out, but when he came to, he says he crouched like a boxer to protect his eyes and face, until something physically picked him up, pointed his body in the right direction, and told him to run. I imagine that's the fastest my dad has ever run, literally running for his life to escape the scorching flames. Once he was out of the fire, he said a person from the tank farm told him that no one came to rescue him, that he was on his own out there, no other man was there, and so that was the day he truly learned that there was a God, that he must have had a guardian angel out there, guiding him through the flames.


He suffered a 65% TBSA, with 50% /50% 2nd and 3rd degree burns respectively. He underwent several cosmetic surgical procedures to preserve what tissue he had left, including his both of his hands, sans pinkies (thanks to a world-renowned hand surgeon at the time). He received several autografts, to the face, arms, forearms, hands, and back. He went through occupational therapy during the recovery phase and was inspired to become an occupational therapist himself. That is a whole other story in itself, his journey to occupational therapy, maybe Ill share at the beginning of the next blog post. I don't think many people know this about my daddy, but he was married at the time of his incident and the woman he was married to decided to leave him, I guess she couldn't handle being with someone who had suffered such a terrible fate. It is true what they say, incidents such as these really do test the strength of a relationship and how much someone truly cares about you. My dad doesn't ever talk ill of her, but I imagine at the time he was deeply wounded by her decision to abandon their relationship at such a dark time in his life... That's okay though, his burn incident really demonstrated his resilience, and just like the phoenix, he was born again from the ashes. He didn't let it set him back from doing all of the things he wanted to do with his life to be successful, and to this day, he does not wear his scars. I have several friends who haven't even realized my dad has skin grafting, 1) bc it's some of the best skin grafting I've ever seen, and 2) because my dad truly doesn't walk around wearing his incident on his sleeve. I wanted to become an occupational therapist because I wanted to be just like my father, and I think one of biggest goals in life was to make him proud, because he has worked hard to provide for every need and want that me, or my siblings, could have ever asked for. Also, funny side note in relation to my dad‘s skin grafts. His cheeks were grafted using an autograft from his bum. So if he ever tells you “kiss my butt“ he will point to his face! 😂 It's been 39 years, and boy are we grateful for my dad's biggest miracle.


I made sure to land a clinical placement in a burn center when I was in OT school. I wanted to complete one so that I could understand the gravity of my dad's situation. That was without a doubt some of the hardest weeks of my life, but I will tell you, nothing would make me change my decision to go there and see what my dad really had to endure, the physical and emotional pain that being burned causes, the havoc it wreaks on the body. It gave me a true appreciation for his life, for his presence, for everything he has done since, and will do. He is for sure, without a doubt, my hero.


My dad's catch phrase is "orphanage trained, burn tested, and death certified" So far you know about him being orphanage trained and burn tested, come back next week to read about my dad's waterloo, and why our father-daughter relationship has made it so hard to find a man to fill those shoes.


Hope you all have an amazing Sunday!


Until Next Time,


xoxo


SLG.













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