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'Brandon's heros' lauded for rescue 10 years later
By ROBERT FARLEY, Times Staff Writer Four minutes, Teresa Veach says for effect. That's how long it took between the time they discovered the fire in her Palm Harbor home to the moment she saw a firefighter gently carry her unconscious 4-year-old son, Brandon Wolf, out. That was 10 years ago this week.
They show the black-stained closet where Brandon huddled under some clothes as the 1,200-degree fire he accidentally set with a lighter raged on the other side of the door. There are also lots of before-and-after photographs. Before the ear reconstruction and after. Before the nose reconstruction and after. The fire caused third-degree burns on 60 percent of Brandon's body, from the missing portion of his left heel to the scars that run up the left side of his face. He was on a ventilator for six weeks. He nearly died several times. But there are happier pictures in the stack, too. There's the picture of Brandon standing ramrod straight in a crisp suit, smiling widely, for his elementary school graduation. There are snapshots of Brandon at the playground. There's another of him as a Little Leaguer, bat propped over his shoulder. Another shows him snowboarding this winter as part of a getaway for burn victims. Still another shows him making an angel in the snow in Cincinnati, where he goes to the Shriner's hospital for most of his operations. Milestones like these make Teresa Veach think of the Palm Harbor firefighters who risked their lives to save her son. "Without them, I wouldn't have these pictures," she said. "I wouldn't have had these moments." As a way to show her thanks, Mrs. Veach decided to have a pizza party for the firefighters Friday. Brandon said he looked forward to giving a hug to Mark Wood, the firefighter who found him in the closet and carried him to safety. "They gave me my son," Mrs. Veach said. "How can you forget that?" The fireThe Saturday morning of March 28, 1992, was to be a day of celebration. The Veaches' daughter, Amber, who had had cardiac surgery at 3 months old and nearly died, was now a week shy of her first birthday. Mrs. Veach was outside when she heard a "whoosh." She thought the water heater was going to explode. They hustled three of their children out and yelled for Brandon, but could not find him. She figured he probably went somewhere to play. Then they discovered his door was locked and they knew he was inside. Ken Veach, in his underwear and slippers, kicked the door in. A flash of fire shot out, knocking him off his feet. He tried to crawl around to find Brandon, but the smoke was so thick he could hardly see. Pictures were literally melting down the wall. And the closet appeared to be breathing in and out. Firefighters Frank Lowman, Mark Wood and Keith Maciuba were the first to arrive on the scene. Maciuba and Wood went inside to assess the situation. There appeared to be fire burning over their heads, Wood said, and they realized the ceiling had fallen. Inside Brandon's room, they felt around through insulation that covered the room up to their knees. Wood opened the closet door. Even though everything in the bedroom was completely charred, nothing in the closet was burned. He reached around and under a pile of clothes, he felt Brandon. He scooped him up and carried him outside, unconscious. Outside, firefighter John Robinson told Mrs. Veach, "He's not breathing yet, but he will be." It took 32 minutes to resuscitate him. But Brandon's struggle was far from over. In all, 60 percent of his Brandon's body was covered with third-degree burns -- not from flames, but from the heat radiating through the closet's metal door. He lost his left ear and the tips of three fingers on his left hand. After six weeks on a ventilator and 2 1/2 months in the hospital, Brandon came home. For two years, Brandon had to wear a transparent plastic mask that covered his face, to help minimize the scarring. His mother helped him to stretch for three hours a day because the skin grafts would tighten at night. Because the skin from skin grafts doesn't grow, he has had to go back for operation after operation as he gets older. His ear, little more than a nub after the fire, was reconstructed in October using part of Brandon's rib. The day before surgeries they try to make good memories. They go downtown, or to the zoo, or one of Brandon's favorite restaurants like Ruby Tuesday. Recovery is always difficult. Sometimes even more difficult are the stares and the name-calling Brandon occasionally encounters in public and at school. It hurts, Brandon said. And sometimes it makes him mad. Sometimes his mother has had to pick him up from school because he was crying so hard, she said. Those are the hardest days. But he likes where he is at school now, Seven Springs Middle School. Most of the kids there know him. They are used to seeing his burns. Brandon, a seventh-grader, is in two regular classes for the first time. Previously, he had been in "self-contained" classes to protect him from other children's taunts. In many other ways, as well, he is a normal teenager. He likes to skateboard and play video games. And he makes a point to befriend outsiders, Mrs. Veach said. "Everybody needs somebody to play with," he shrugs. There are days when Brandon curses his fate, his mother said, when he will yell, "I hate my face! I hate my burns!" But as the surgeries become more constructive, she said, he has smiled more. None was bigger than the smile that came when he first saw his new ear in October. "Everything melted away in that smile," Mrs. Veach said. The fire has changed everyone in the family, she said, especially her. "For two whole years, I was mad," she said. "I was mad at God. But it's okay. As long as I can have him here. I can't complain too much. "There's times I wonder if I did the right thing keeping him alive," she said. Then she looks over at her son and smiles. "I love you more than all the Gummi Bears in the world," she says. "I love you more than all the dirt in the world," he shoots back. "I'm so glad to have you every day of my life, you know that," she says, hugging him. "We've come a long way in 10 years," said Ken Veach. Veach, who has a computer-related job at LifePath Hospice in Tampa, suffered first- and second-degree burns on his hands, knees and face in the 1992 fire. The fire also damaged his eyes, so that he must wear sunglasses 90 percent of the day. But while Mr. Veach's scars have largely disappeared, Brandon has many more surgeries ahead of him. He'll need surgery on his feet and nose when he's 16. "I'll be driving when I'm 16," Brandon adds. On Friday, Brandon pulled on a T-shirt that read "9-11, in memory of our heroes" and packed into a car with his family to head south to Palm Harbor. They brought pizzas and a cake that read "We love Brandon's heroes, PHFD." Brandon entered the fire station with his mother, headed straight for Wood and silently hugged him. Then he hugged Maciuba. "You guys are so wonderful," Mrs. Veach said. "It's hard to believe it's been 10 years," Maciuba said. "Brandon, you really look good," Wood said. "You're healthy and tall." Mrs. Veach said they had the firefighters to thank for that. Many firefighters would have given up, she said "The thought of giving up . . . it never happened," Wood said. "People need to know there are heroes out there," Mrs. Veach said. Wood agrees, but he's not so sure it's him. "To call me a hero, that's a heavy mantle to carry," Wood said. "To me, the hero was Brandon. We all walked away. He has to live with all this forever."
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