Pennington-based psychologist Lise Deguire has written an autobiographical account of her disfigurement by fire and the effects it had on her life and family. In her own words, she opens her painful, yet hopeful, story:
I was “Case Number One.” I never knew my lawyer presented my sad story to the U.S. Senate. It wasn’t until I was 54, trolling the internet, when I discovered my old photos, permanently enshrined in the 1971 Committee on Commerce hearings. These hearings, including my own case, eventually led to the landmark creation of the Consumer Product Safety Commission.
I am four years old in this photo, half-naked and burned all over. I am propped up into a sitting position. My hair, which had been honey blond and bouncy with waves, sprawls in a dark, stringy mess. My chest is completely covered with tight, raw bands of scars. My right arm, also constricted by scars, is attached to my torso by contractures. My left wrist contracts in as well. You can seem my tiny right ear and my nose unscarred, still sweet and untouched. The lower half of my face, however, is obliterated. My mouth gapes wide open because I have no lower lip to close it with. Fire has devoured my lip, chin, and neck. The remaining skin tightly draws my face down into my chest, like a reverse facelift, preventing any emotional expression.
A black band in the photo covers my eyes to keep me from being recognized. If you could see my eyes, though, I would have been trying to smile as best I could. I was a “Good Girl,” and I aimed to please. Efforts were made to keep my tiny face in profile and to hide my eyes. But burn scarring is as unique as finger prints; no two burned people get burned exactly the same way. It is clearly me. This was one of several stunning revelations I uncovered as I began to investigate the fire that nearly killed me a half-century ago.
After “the accident” my parents hired an attorney, Edward Swartz. He fought our case against the company National Distillers, manufactures of Solox, which my mother had poured on the coals while barbecuing during our vacation in New Hampshire. Solox was found to be liable because it did not place a safety valve called a “flashback arrestor” on the Solox can. This half-cent part would have prevented the flames from shooting up the stream of solvent into the can and exploding into a fiery bomb.
This is the story that I was told throughout my childhood and was my explanation to everyone about how I got burned. My parents said that the accident was caused by “lighter fluid” which wasn’t canned properly, leading to the explosion, which injured my mother and me. The company was negligent and indifferent about their product being packaged unsafely. In this family story, my mother was blameless for the fire. My injuries were entirely due to Solox and it corporate greed.
When I was 54 — the 50th anniversary of the fire — I extricated the yellow file my father had labeled “the accident” and read it through again. This time, however, something previously unnoticed caught my eye: an article from a local newspaper about my family winning the settlement against Solox. In the article, Solox was described as a “household” solvent, not a lighter fluid.
My face furrowed. I stared at this article, which I had read so many times before, wondering for the first time about Solox. Solox had to have been a lighter fluid. It wasn’t a household solvent. Who would pour a household solvent on a barbecue? Why would my mother do that?
Solox is no longer manufactured but was a product that had been around for decades. I found photos of Solox on the internet and could read its label: “Solox. Denatured Alcohol Solvent. Shellac thinner, alcohol solvent, clean aid,” and then: “Warning: Flammable, vapor harmful.” The warning was underscored on the back of the Solox can, where it said, in all caps: “CAUTION; FLAMMABLE MIXTURE. DO NOT USE NEAR FIRE OR FLAME.”
Given all these warnings labels, I don’t know how my family even had a case against Solox, let alone won the settlement. According to the small article I read, the warning label about Solox being flammable had been removed. My best guess is that my mother misused the product, and she was at fault for that, but the lack of the flashback-arrestor cap still made the company liable. Also, there were all the devastating photos of this four-year-old girl who was tragically disfigured, which would make a jury sympathetic, regardless of my mother’s culpability. So, Solox settled the case with my family and paid us off.
After I learned about Solox being a household solvent and not a lighter fluid, I tried to call Mr. Swartz. I wanted him to help me understand how we ever won this case at all, given that my mother had misused the product. I learned that Edward Swartz had died. However, I was able to connect with brother, James, who is also an attorney and works in the same law firm.
I identified myself. ‘Hi, my name is Lise Deguire and your brother won a case for me from a fire back in 1967. I’m looking for some information.”
“Are you the Flashback Girl?” he asked immediately.
“Um, I guess I might be,” I said, completely shocked. Flashback Girl? He told me he remembered me well and had lectured many times about my case. He said my case had “changed everything” in the field of product liability and consumer safety.
It moves me to know that my case helped others to be better protected by industry and led to safer products for other Americans.
Also I have come to love my new given superhero name: Flashback Girl.
With my new name came a new task: It was time to share my true superhero origins. I do have an amazing story to tell, and it only starts with my quirky name. I have endured fire, abandonment, medical torture, negligence, and the death of my entire family, Yet, like Batman and Wolverine, I survived trauma after trauma, strong and resilient. As a psychologist, I now spend my life guiding others toward health and wholeness. How did get there? Can my superhero life inspire others to keep going? How can we all survive what seems insurmountable?
That is the story of this book.
Flashback Girl: Lessons on Resilience from a Burn Survivor by Lise Deguire, 276 pages, $14, Dr. Lise Deguire, L.L.C., Available on Amazon.
For more information, visit www.lisedeguire.com.
