June 22--Dayia Jones was 9 when her legs were scalded by hot water that spilled after the lid came off a cup as her mother drove away from a fast food restaurant.
The scars were more than just physical for the Naperville resident, who is now 15. She worried about how other kids would treat her because of her burned upper thighs.
"I had these scars on my legs. I thought, 'This is not cute. People are not going to want to talk to me,'" she said.
Dayia was wrong. Taking part in the "I Am Me" camp for burn survivors showed her how to cope. The camp for ages 8 to 16 runs through Friday in Inglesideand is marking its 25th year.
About 65 campers will participate this year in the camp overseen by the nonprofit Illinois Fire Safety Alliance, which is based in Mount Prospect. But as Philip Zaleski, executive director of the alliance, pointed out, hundreds of children suffer scald, chemical and flame burns every year in Illinois. Scalds, like those suffered by Dayia, are among the most common.
"When you think burn you think fire, but scalds are a pretty significant number," Zaleski said.
Of this year's campers, 30 percent were injured by scalds, 30 percent were injured by playing with matches or otherwise starting a fire, 10 percent were hurt by gas explosions, 10 percent by fireworks and 20 percent were injured in house fires.
The fire alliance provides education about fire and burn safety. Zaleski said too few people know about the dangers of scalding, which can come from hot water or steam and can result from something as simple as opening a bag of microwave popcorn.
The Chicago-based American Burn Association reports that more than 500,000 people a year in the U.S and Canada suffer burns that require medical treatment. About half of those are scalds.
The National Scald Prevention Campaign, which is made up of five national fire prevention organizations, is on a mission to raise awareness of the dangers of scalds. In 2013, it reported an estimated 68,536 scald injuries associated with consumer household appliances such as stoves, coffee makers, tableware, cookware and bathtubs were seen in hospital emergency rooms in the U.S. About 23 percent, or 15,588 of those, occurred to children 4 and younger.
While house fires are still a concern, Zaleski said there is good news on the fire prevention front. The number of house fires has decreased in recent decades.
There were an estimated 487,500 structure fires reported to fire departments in 2013, a substantial decrease from the peak number of 1,098,000 in 1979, according to the National Fire Protection Association.
The camp tracks the type of burns, because it wants to provide services to meet campers' needs. Besides typical camp activities, children also participate in the Challenger Program, which promotes character development by challenging campers to accept and demonstrate positive values. They engage in journaling and therapeutic activities to reflect on their lives before and after they were burned and to further the healing process.
"You're never bored when you're there," Dayia said. "You get to be with your friends. We have a special bond that I don't think anyone can break."
About 65 volunteers organize and work at the camp at the 300-acre YMCA Camp Duncan. They include current and former firefighters, nurses, teachers and adults and older teens and adults who once were campers.
Terry Pluta, 70, of Elmhurst, is a volunteer and retired Northlake firefighter who was part of a group who established the first camp of about 40 participants. Before that, children were sent to a burn camp in Colorado.
"We've had 90 participants some years. Right now, we're down to (a number) in the 60s. It changes every year," said Pluta, who helps set up the camp and makes sure the kids have water and snacks and that activities run smoothly. He sees a different side of the story.
"Being a (former) firefighter, we treat injuries on the scene," he said. "Now I get to see the other side of the burns -- how their lives can change. I get to feel like I had a little something to do with that."
The camp's facilities have been improved over the years. Pluta recalls having to run out and buy 50 fans during the first year, but now all cabins have central air and the gravel roads are paved.
The cost for each child is about $2,200 and is covered through contributions.
"I am completely blown away by the way people give up more than a week of their lives to this. It's just amazing," Zaleski said.
Volunteers like Pluta, who work behind the scenes, get special praise.
"They're probably the tiredest and most sweatiest people out there," Zaleski said. "They don't get a lot of time to sit back and watch the kids have fun, but they know it's happening."
Forty percent of the volunteers are former campers, such as Allyson Barry of Plano. The 28-year-old suffered second- and third-degree burns on her legs, feet, arms, stomach and face when she was in an apartment fire as a 6-month-old in Texas.
Attending the camp helped me "learn how to talk about my scars and step out of my comfort zone," she said.
She appreciated that counselors never pushed campers to talk about their injuries or how they occurred until they were ready. She tries to do the same now as a counselor.
"Some of the kids may have horrific stories and may not be willing to talk about it," said Barry, who is married and has a 10-month-old daughter. While she has grown more comfortable with her scars, she acknowledges she didn't wear shorts until she was in her 20s, except at camp.
That's because, at camp, "no one paid attention. No one ever stared. They acted like nobody is different. Because nobody is different."
Like Barry, Dayia, who is a sophomore at Metea Valley High School in Aurora, said she has been empowered by the camp and hopes that she, too, can be a counselor one day.
"I feel like this camp has given me and my friends our own special super power," she said. "No one stops us from being happy. We make each other happy."
Her mother, Valicia Timmons, of Naperville, agreed that being part of "I Am Me" has changed her daughter's outlook.
"She knows now she's not in this circle alone. There are other people who've been burned," Timmons said.
amannion@tribpub.com
