I don’t
wantmy
injury
tochange
whoI am
MUM
M
WORDS:
NIAMH
BURNS,
CHARLOTTE
NESBIT.
PHOTOS:
CATERS
NEWS
AGENCY
I’mthemum I alwayswas
- butlife’schangedforever
BrittneySullivan, 32
FLUKE ACCIDENT
6
T
he reflection in the
bathroom mirror was
still a bleary one, as
I let out a tired yawn.
Just then, my girls
Makennah, then 8,
and Presley Monroe, 5, chased
each other across the hallway.
‘Slow down, guys,’ I croaked,
flicking on my curling tongs.
My youngest James Walker,
then 1, was in his bed. It was
the usual hectic, weekday
morning in our mad house.
My husband David, 36, and
I both juggled full-time jobs
with looking after the kids.
Life was busy – but Iwouldn’t have changed it
for the world.
And, on this cold January
day in 2018, David had left
for work extra early at 6am.
By 7.30am, I’d got the kids up.
Now I just had to curl my
hair before doing the school
run and heading to my
office job.
Picking up the curling
tongs, I wrapped a chunk of
my long, brown hair around
the red-hot metal.
Despite being a tired mum,
I took pride in my appearance,
and always made an effortwith my hair and make-up.
I also had to keep an eye
on my health.
I’d been diagnosed with
epilepsy in April 2013.
I took daily medication to try
to keep seizures under control.
We’d told the kids.
‘Mummy is
healthy,’ I’d told
them. ‘But if you
see her having
a seizure, call
an ambulance,
then Daddy.’
Fifteen minutes
later, my hair
hung in thick,
shiny brunette
waves and my
reflection was
looking much better.
‘Nearly done,’
I mumbled, grabbing the
last section of hair.
The girls were still playing,
the baby sleeping.
But, just as I’d wrappedmy hair around the sizzling-
hot tongs, I suddenly collapsed.
I don’t remember hitting the
bathroom floor, only waking up,
hours later, feeling hazy and
confused – then searing pain
swept across my face.
‘Argh!’ I cried, in agony,
holding my cheek
in my hands.
Then I realised
that I couldn’t
open my left
eye... And I was
in Parkland
Memorial
Hospital, in Dallas.
My mum
Angie, 54,
was sitting by
my bedside.
‘What happened, Mum?’ I
gasped to her, close to tears.
‘You had an epileptic fit,’ she
gently explained.
‘You have burns on your face.’
I listened aghast, as she
explained I’d collapsed and
landed on my red-hot tongs.
Face first.
And, as I’d fitted, the
urning irons pressed
gainst the left side
f my face.
They’d melted the flesh off
my cheek and my eyelid.
Luckily, Makennah
had heard me scream.
She’d dashed over, rolled
me off the tongs and onto
my side. Then she’d phoned
her ‘Gigi’ – my mum – and
old her brother and sister
t was all OK.
My dad James, 50, had
ooked after the kids, while
Mum took me to hospital.
Sobbing, I tried to
process the news.
‘I need to see my face,’
I told Mum, demanding
she get me a mirror.
Mum nodded and passed
My journeyof transformation