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| From Ashes
I Arose To Live Again |
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| This Page Is Dedicated To Those Who Have
Walked This Path And To Those Who Have Devoted Their Lives To Healing |
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| One Of The Healers Dr. Ross Tilley, son of a local general practitioner, was born in Bowmanville, Ontario. In 1935, he opened his private practice at Toronto Western and Wellesley hospitals. When WWII began in 1939, Dr. Tilley was one of only four plastic surgeons in Canada. A member of the Canadian Army Medical Corps Militia, he immediately went on active duty, transferring to the new RCAF Medical Branch shortly after its formation. He was posted at RCAF Headquarters in the United Kingdom in 1941 as Principal Medical Officer. In 1942, Dr. Tilley was transferred to the Queen Victoria Hospital in East Grinstead in Sussex which was the centre for the treatment of burned Commonwealth airmen. Increasing Canadian casualties resulted in the Royal Canadian Engineers building a separate wing solely for the treatment of Canadian airmen, of which Dr. Tilley was a leader in getting it built where he and his colleagues treated hundreds, mostly Canadian, for the rest of the war and several years later. The airmen rose to the occasion by forming "The Guinea Pig Club", after one of them said "We're nothing but a bunch of damn guinea pigs." WWII technology had created many different ways of killing and disfiguring. The members of this club were in the latter group and their terrible injuries allowed surgeons like Dr. Tilley to do groundbreaking operations. The members, using black humour, divided themselves into two catagories, "mashed" (those who suffered broken bones) and "fried" (those who were burned). One club member later recalled that the first treasurer was chosen because he was wheelchair-bound and couldn't abscond with the funds; the secretary because he had no hands and so couldn't take meeting minutes. Dr. Tilley proudly served as the club's president until his death in 1988. Realizing that the men not only needed physical help, but emotions had to be repaired too, Dr. Tilley and other doctors at the hospital arranged a town meeting in East Grinstead. They told the residents that they were going to encourage the badly burned pilots to socialize in town. They warned the townspeople that they were going to see some troubling sights, such as men without eyelids and badly scarred faces, but asked them not to stop and stare. An offer to buy the pilots a drink and talking to them would be a huge aid in helping them to recover. The people listened and soon wounded men in their uniforms became pub regulars around the town. Some married local women. The residents became active in the participation of the healing. The pilots called East Grinstead "the town that never stared". Dr. Tilley's achievements in England helped immensely to bring modern plastic surgery to Canada. He and his colleagues had to literally put their patients back together, rebuilding horribly battered feet, hands and faces. One of his first steps would be to attempt to rebuild his patient's ears as without them "How could a man hold his glasses on?" Dr Tilley was made an Officer of the Order of the British Empire in 1944. He was promoted to group captain that year and he held this rank on discharge from the service in 1945. On his return to Canada he carried on a very busy practice in Toronto and Kingston, Ontario. He was the first to teach plastic surgery at Queen’s University in Kingston, Ontario. Dr Tilley was a charter member and a past president of the Canadian Society of Plastic Surgeons. He campaigned for many years for the development of burn treatment facilities in the Toronto area. His dream was fulfilled when the Ross Tilley Burn Centre opened at The Wellesley Hospital in 1984. In 1982, he was made a Member of the Order of Canada in honour of his many contributions to Canadian plastic surgery. Quiet, mild-mannered, having great skill, Dr. Tilley will be remembered always by his "Guinea Pigs" and their families as the man who helped them to regain their lives. |
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| Dr. Ross Tilley at East Grinstead, England |
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| My
Personal Story Baton Rouge, LA, 15 Feb 1997..... Some days a person really shouldn't get out of bed, but as my "bed" was in our Class B motorhome and we, my husband Ralph and I, were on our way to California for a couple of weeks of camping, I really had no choice. Ralph decided to head for the washroom before breakfast which, as it turned out, was fortunate he did. I began to prepare breakfast, filled the tea kettle to make coffee, lit the stove burner and well, that's when things began to go awry...badly. Having used propane both at home and camping, I had a strong respect of it. When I would light the burner in our motorhome, it was always on the count of three: (1) Turn on the burner; (2) Click the clicker; (3) Flame on, or if it failed, I would immediately turn the burner off, wait a few seconds, then retry. As I said things went awry. When the burner lit, instead of a small flame, a six inch high wave of flame, whooshed to the back of the stove, then back over me and on to the front of the vehicle. If Ralph hadn't been in the washroom, he would have been sitting at the front, trapped behind the table. Quickly, I walked through low flames along the floor to the sliding door, hoping my burned hands would be able to open it. It slid open, I jumped out, fell to the ground, rolling over and over. afraid the back of my clothes was on fire. Then I just began to scream LOUDLY! A matter of seconds later two residents came running, grabbed our fire extinguishers that were beside the open door, and began to try to knock down the fire. Ralph, hearing the commotion, came running out, didn't recognize me for a second or two because my bangs had been burned off, and then asked me "Tweetie, what can I do?". Still in my "rescue mode" (Mothers tend to have that built in, but usually call upon it to rescue kids and hubbys), I told him to get the water bottle in the cupboard accessed from outside and pour it over my arms and hands. I knew it was OK as it wasn't a grease fire. Later the Paramedic told us it was the best thing to do at that time. The cool water stopped the burns from becoming deeper. Fire trucks came wailing into the campground and shortly I was bundled into the ambulance to the hospital where a doctor had to cut off my wedding rings. My hands had quickly swollen. Then it was four days in the Burn Unit before we were taken by an Air Ambulance (a Lear jet, no less!) to Toronto, Ontario. I was admitted to The Ross Tilley Burn Unit which was then in Wellesley Hospital, but now is in Sunnybrook and Women's College Health Centre in Toronto. My life and my families' centred around this unit for the next 5 weeks. Ralph was able to stay in a Bed and Breakfast less than a five minutes' walk from my room. He would stay over ten hours a day with me and being I picked up one of those Super Bugs, he had wear gloves, gown and mask. I do not know how he stood it. My room was kept warm and sometimes due to my feeling very cold, he would turn on the overhead heat lamps. Dr. Joel Fish was my surgeon because I had to have grafts on my arms. I will always remember him coming into my room, a big smile on his face, and greeting me by saying "Hi Gorgeous!" Feeling anything but gorgeous, I did enjoy hearing the words. The nurses and staff in the Burn Unit did a wonderful job of not only caring for me, but for keeping my spirits up. My Angels. Besides the Super Bug, there were one or two bumps in the road to recovery, the worse being a pulmonary embolism, but meds took care of it, altho' it wasn't much fun trying to breath for awhile. Finally I was released. Our daughter Lou, who lives in Toronto, drove us home, a two hour trip. Then the real work began, therapists coming to our home four times a week. At one point, I nearly lost the use of my hands, but with son Scott manipulating them several times a day, they are nearly as good as new. It is over twelve years now, but I still exercise them. Time has eroded much of the memories of that "interesting" time in my life, but I will always remember how my family rallied around me. Ralph staying with me, tending to all my needs when we came home, son Jim easing the moments with his humour and taking over my job carving the Christmas turkey that year, Lou contacting a friend who is a paramedic stationed at Pearson Airport to let her know when we landed and calling us as we entered my hospital room, spending her lunch hour each day with us, Scott doing the cooking, laundry and becoming "The Thumb Police" when I wasn't exercising my fingers, and daughter-in-law Cindy who cooked Sunday dinners for us to give Scott a well-deserved break. Without my family rallying around, my journey would have been much more difficult. I am truly blessed. We continued camping in another Class B motorhome, starting in January, 1998. Needless to say, there is no propane in it or our home, but that is the only difference in our lives. Thanks to Dr. Fisher, and also to Dr. Tilley, my family and friends, today life is good. |
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| Ralph and Lucy
November 2004 |
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