16. A night of celebration

 

New Years Eve, 2017, and we were enjoying a magical post-Christmas holiday in a European winter wonderland, in Nuremberg, Germany. We kicked things off with “Australian new year”, toasting each other with bubbles as the fireworks exploded over the Sydney Harbour Bridge. Detmar and Petra, our German friends, had planned an evening of celebrations, German style, and we were celebrating our good fortune to be there with them.

A drive along the busy motorway and into the mountains and Detmar parked the car just as darkness fell. Rugging up in our coats, scarves and gloves, we wandered along a candle lit path, through the trees, to reach a tiny village. We grabbed a warming Glühwein and found a spot to watch the parade of pilgrims leaving church after a 24-hour vigil, walking solemnly through the streets accompanied by hymns. The experience was quite mesmerising and we expressed our wonder in hushed tones, not wishing to break the magical spell.

From there we drove to our friends’ house in Groβenseebach to continue our celebrations. Their daughter, Claudia and her boyfriend James were already there. Detmar had prepared a special meal of celebratory fondue cooked at the table. We toasted our good fortune again as we settled in for a lovely night.

Just before 9 o’clock we joined Detmar at the table, where two fondue pots sat above bowls filled with ethanol, lit ready for us to cook. Many marinated meats and vegetables lined the table, and our mouths watered with anticipation. Feeling hungry, we grabbed our fondue forks and loaded up our food, however the pot in front of us appeared to have failed to ignite. Detmar tried to light it again. There was a loud explosion. Ethanol (and residual vapor) ignites easily and with volatility. Martin, James and I were thrown into the wall. I looked down and was shocked to discover that the front of my clothes was on fire. My fight or flight instinct kicked in as I struggled to pull my top over my head, screaming “I’m on fire!”. James, who was nearest to me, leaped up and helped me to roll in a rug to extinguish the flames, but quite a bit of damage had already been done – my chest, arms and face had been badly burned…

You can only imagine the chaos and confusion. The screaming, the crying, the helplessness of not knowing what to do. Everybody was trying to work out how to help me, while I cried in anguish and tried not to hyperventilate. But, even in this moment of utter devastation, good luck, or good fortune, was on my side…

A passerby, arriving for another party in the street, heard the commotion and ran in. He was first aid trained and able to render immediate assistance. Petra called the emergency services, and when a fire engine arrived one of the volunteers was also a doctor. He also gave advice and assistance, strongly suggesting to the ambulance, when it arrived, NOT to call the Nuremberg hospital, as they may direct us elsewhere on what is always a busy night, but to go straight there where they would have to admit me.

I barely remember the drive to the hospital, although I was conscious throughout the journey. Martin, who accompanied me, was terrified for me, even though (or perhaps because) the paramedic assured him I would live. The sirens blared and the lights flashed. Finally, we drove into the emergency entrance and I was wheeled upstairs.

Klinikum Nuremberg Nord is one of the largest hospitals in Europe and its specialist burns unit is well equipped and staffed, having been heavily financed by the United States at the end of the second world war. Some of their practices and medications are not available in other places around the world. The intensive care burns unit had been filled, but one patient with eye injuries was being moved to Munich for more specialised care, so there was a bed for me. I was quickly wheeled into treatment as I had third degree burns to 25% of my body.

Thank goodness, we had taken top class travel insurance! My face was wrapped in a special dressing which enhances skin growth and recovery. It costs over 1000 euros for a piece the size of a postage stamp. There were three very painful skin grafts taken from my leg and applied to my arms and chest. I was bathed in a special salt solution every few days to aid recovery. The level of care I received was second to none and the hospital bill alone was more than 100,000 Euros.

My limited knowledge of the German language could have been a barrier, but I was fortunate here too. My doctor, Andreas Blings, had spent a year’s internship in Concorde and Toowoomba hospitals, researching burns care in Australia, and he spoke perfect English. And a burns specialist nurse, Tatiana, was learning English and brought in her dictionary to help us communicate.

But healing from such a traumatic injury takes time, and I spent almost a month in that hospital. Kirsty cut short her holiday in Cambodia and flew over to be near and to support me, and she and Martin rented a small flat in the main town so that they were closer for visiting hours. She practiced her German by translating the menus each day and advising me on what to pick – some German food is not what I would choose so she and Martin would bring me treats each day.

As you can imagine, our German friends were devastated with what had happened, but one of the first things I said to them was “this is NOT going to spoil our friendship”. It was a terrible accident, but I would recover. Eventually, on Australia Day, I was considered well enough to travel. After a tearful farewell with Detmar and Petra, we were taken by limousine from Nuremberg to Frankfurt and flew business class home via Dubai. As the wheels hit the tarmac at Tullamarine, I cried with relief. Brett picked us up from the airport and drove us straight to the Alfred Hospital in Melbourne, where I was admitted. He was shocked when he saw me, but he also knew that I had received, and would continue to receive, the best of care.

Recovery was slow and often painful, but I reminded myself daily how fortunate I was — not only to have survived, but to have been cared for so well. Every medical expert, every visitor, every small act of kindness became part of my healing. My scars began to fade, but the gratitude I felt only deepened. The experience changed me, not just physically but in how I see the world. It taught me how fragile life can be, and how powerful love and kindness truly is.

Now, each New Year’s Eve when the fireworks light up the sky, I celebrate survival, friendship, and the good fortune that carried me through the fire. I raise my glass to resilience, love, and the quiet strength of being alive.