Texas Anchor Seriously Burned in Fire
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It was a very scary moment for KBTX (Bryan, Texas) Anchor Kathleen Witte.
Witte was badly burned in a fire that she started in her condo. Her injuries are bad enough, that she won't be on the air for weeks.
She posted what happened to her Facebook page:
Hi! Kathleen here. Wanted to let y’all know why you won’t be seeing me on First News at Four and News 3 at Six for the next couple of weeks.
Late Sunday evening, there was a small fire in my home. I’d rather not go into too much detail, but the bare bonesis that I made a poor decision with a candle, fell asleep for a few minutes, and woke up to find the candle wax itself on fire—not just the wick. At the time, I didn’t know that wax on fire is like grease on fire: it must be put out by suffocation, not water. Ignorant to this fact, and not thinking the situation through, I swiftly and rather confidently tossed a glass-full of water on the burning candle jar.
The fire and flaming wax exploded onto me. It was, quite easily,the most terrifying moment of my life. The trauma of what happened…well, I’ve talked and even joked about it a lot since that night, but I’ll admit to you now that I’m struggling to type this with dry eyes. Didn’t expect that. Anyway, I suffered first- and second-degree burns on my face, and second- and third-degree burns on my hands, shoulder, chest, leg, and hip. A fire extinguisher and well-timed command to stop, drop and roll helped save me (and my entire condo complex) from a worse fate.
I was rushed to CHI St. Joseph Health’s emergency room. I was in a panic. I was in more pain than I’ve ever known possible. I looked like a Halloween costume with singed hair, wild eyes and a body splotchy with burns. I lost my voice for two days due to the screaming. It’s a blur, but I’ll never forget the calming and knowledgeable nature of the medical team. A team of nurses and doctors quickly managed my pain, x-rayed my lungs for possible smoke damage (there was none, thank goodness) and just as quickly recognized that I needed more specialized care than was available at St. Joe's facility.
It was decided that I would be flown by medical helicopter to the burn unit at Memorial Hermann in Houston. A crappy side-note is that I have a diagnosed phobia of flying, so here’s a shout-out to the team on the helicopter for talking me through the 40-minute ride down south. My journalist’s nature is to ask persistent probing personal questions when I’m under duress, so boy did I get to know that flight team well.
When I arrived at the burn unit, I was, of course, remarkably well taken care of. Y’all…the nurses. Look, the doctors who treated me were unsurprisingly incredible, but the folks in the trenches who changed my bandages, cleaned my wounds, brought me endless blankets, and just, well, listened to me as I cried through the pain—they’re whom I’ll remember. If you have a nurse in your life, take a moment to thank her or him on my behalf.
I spent three nights and three days in the burn unit at Memorial Hermann. During that time, two teams of friends made the drive from BCS to visit me, bringing me care packages, gentle hugs, and laughter that I desperately needed. A couple of friends (family, really) cleaned my condo and the firedamage as well as they could without a contractor. My parents made and answered a dozen phone calls a day to check on my health, physical and mental—and only because I demanded they not get on a plane. I received countless texts, calls, and messages from people who found out what happened. (Fun fact: I responded to them all using only my pinky, the one un-bandaged finger at the time. It’s a new skill that I hope never to have to utilize again.)
Deep breath. I want to talk about KBTX. When I stumbled upon this job two and a half years ago, I knew the workplace atmosphere was special. What I didn’t know, and have slowly learned, is that it is a family. It’s a not a company line,y’all. Yikes, here I go getting teary-eyed again talking about them. Most of the friends who made the drive from BCS to visit me were KBTXers. The ones who couldn’t make it sent flowers, cards, and non-hospital food (blessing of blessings). They responded to my emails with “Quit working! Get healthy!” when my new Typing Pinky couldn’t resist checking my work account. They assured me that my presence in the newsroom was missed, but that they would unflinchingly cover my duties as long as needed. Mostly, they let me know that I am loved in this town that I have adopted as my home.
Finally, and most significantly, here’s to the person in my life who has been by my side since stop, drop and roll. The person who was strong when I forgot how, smiled when I couldn't find mine—and reminded me when I needed it that, indeed, I still knew how to be strong and how to smile. This person has participated in every gruesome and plain awful part of the healing process and somehow keeps coming back for more. This trauma will deeply affect me for, well, forever, but this person has helped me see through the pain and to the beauty of the perspective it’s brought me. I am thankful in a way I can never fully express.
As for my recovery, it will be a long road, but I will reach the end of it. I just found out that I’m cleared to avoid surgery or skin grafts. I can breathe easier now. The doctors say my face will heal first, likely without any scarring. The rest of my wounds should close up within the next two weeks. There will be scarring there, but I can’t find it in me to care. My skin will be raw, pink, and extremely sensitive to sun for up to year. Look forward to me bringing hats and thick sunscreen back in style.
I know this community well enough to know that this post will inspire many thoughts and prayers my way. Thank you. Thank you for all of them. They’re helping—I’m healing. I will, however, ask you to spare a few for the burn victims who aren’t nearly as lucky as I am. Nothing could have put my own injuries in perspective as spending three days next to the burn ICU full of ventilators, amputations, and lonely faces.
Goodness. This has been a long post about what will, eventually, be some discolored skin and a scary story. I’m realizing that I could be accused of seeking attention, and maybe I am, so here’s how I’ll use it:
I’ve led a fairly charmed life, as many of us have. It’s made me feel invincible in a way. Every day I report on tragedies big and small, locally and across the globe, yet somehow I never imagine that I will end up in those unfortunate shoes. I don’t mean this as a scare tactic, I just mean—Lock your doors. Wear your seat belt. Learn and practice basic fire safety.Et cetera, et cetera. I believe that we are in the hands of something greater, meaning that we are not always in control; that said, when we are given the knowledge and opportunity to protect our earthly selves, we must take the care and responsibility to do so.
I am human, therefore I will fail daily at this pledge, but this is me saying I won’t take it for granted anymore: my health, my safety, my privileges, nor my loved ones.
Thank you to everyone for your care and support during this week and the weeks to come. With everything I am, I am grateful.
P.S. I’ve included photos of the good and the bad—for balance or something. These are the flowers sent to the burn unit from friends and KBTX family (also pictured because I didn’t know how to crop them out: my bandaged yet happily healing hands) and this is the icky aftermath of the candle fire in my kitchen. Here’s to home insurance!
