Vol 114: Times like these
This past week, I’ve been both riveted and absolutely saddened by the wildfires sweeping across California. We’re now just barely three weeks into the new year and are already witnessing one of the worst natural disasters of our modern age. To date, more than 38,000 acres have burned and more than 12,000 structures have been destroyed, which in land mass is larger than the city of Paris. The ensuing days will be crucial. Exacerbated by wind-gusts of up to 100mph, the situation has been so bleak that firefighters were sent to help from as far away as Canada and Mexico. Pictures of the destruction starkly resemble those from war zones of yesteryear.
Initially at least 150,000 people had to evacuate their homes with another 166,000 people evacuated as the fires progressed. A curfew from 6pm to 6am is in effect for the Pacific Palisades and Eaton evacuated areas. Beyond that, more than half a million students are out of school and warnings have been issued for those who remain to not use tap water for drinking, bathing, cooking or hand washing. A tangible threat of mudslides now smolders. And although it hasn’t received any fair media coverage, it’s also worth mentioning that thousands upon thousands of all manner of wildlife have also lost their homes, their families and their lives.
As horrific as this already is, the aftermath will be equally catastrophic. Attention will be laser focused on the lingering smoke which has already damaged whatever crops remain and is likely to devastate California’s annual $58 million dollar wine industry. But that pales in comparison to the ensuing insurance crisis; a possible deluge of bureaucratic red-tape, pay-out avoidance and bankruptcy filings which will undoubtedly have ramifications that reverberate far beyond their borders. Given that most, if not all, local insurance carriers have a US home insurance affiliate, concerns are mounting that home insurance costs in The Bahamas may be indirectly, yet still deleteriously, affected.
Since the late 80’s, California lawmakers have imposed price controls on home insurance providers in an effort to make home insurance more affordable. After the wildfires in 2017 and 2018, however, there was a mass exodus of insurance providers from the state and the few providers who remain have either refused to write new policies or have canceled the policies of thousands more. Because of this, half a million Californians are dependent on state insurance (California Fair Plan) which only has a reserve of $377 million (with 5.75 billion in reinsurance to cover the plan’s losses). Damage in the Pacific Palisades alone is estimated to be over $30 billion. For financial comparison, that would equate to the damage inflicted to The Bahamas if we’d had 10 hurricane Dorians. By law, the insurance companies in California will have to cover the difference but there will be push-back.
Those are the bare statistics and financial realities – consequences of the fires that can be measured, counted, calculated and reported as facts. But the bare truths don’t begin to touch the emotional toll placed on the exhausted front-line workers or the displaced homeowners who’ve lost some or everything they own. Nor do those facts begin to explain the side effects of such horrific loss.
This is how Barbara Sternig, a writer now living in California, described this loss in an e-letter shared with former co-workers and colleagues at a national publication in the U.S. after she’d just gotten off the phone with a friend whose house had burned to the ground:
“In all, the city whose haunts and shortcuts and streets and history, whose eateries and memories and antics and denizens are part of my life and the lives of all of us, now altered into nightmare for thousands, with devastated square miles of unbelievable ruin.”
If the financial devastation, vanquished homes and loss of lifetime touchpoints are hard to comprehend in their totality, the most consequential ultimate loss in all of this is the loss of life. Twenty-nine people have died as a result of the wildfires and there are countless more families mourning their loss. In times like these it’s easy to forget that each one of those 29 people, like all of us, recently celebrated Christmas and toasted to the start of a new year with hope and eager anticipation. That hope is now ash.
So, given what’s happening to our US neighbors I wanted today’s column to discuss what happens medically when the human body is exposed to fire. It’s not hyperbole when I say that it’s infinitely more nightmarish than what you may imagine.
I revert to a previous column I wrote in September 2022 entitled ‘Almost flew west’. In it, I told the story of a man named AJ who had a fuel transport business. In 2017, he and his brother were transferring gas from one truck to another and, without warning, the delivery truck exploded. AJ’s brother was caught in the path of the explosion and his entire body became engulfed in flames in a fraction of a second. Although the fire was extinguished quickly, he died the following afternoon.
The pain of being burnt alive is so explosively intense that the human body almost immediately goes into shock. Before this, and within seconds of exposure, the lungs begin to drown from all the emitted carbon dioxide and you become hypoxic. Simultaneously, the skin is ripped apart and eventually melts, the muscles contract and all of the internal organs shrink before shutting down completely.
Almost immediately, the person’s blood literally begins to boil as body temperature rapidly spikes from a normal 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit to 212 degrees Fahrenheit. For context, wildfire temperatures exceed on average 1,472 degrees Fahrenheit. Although death is likely to occur in minutes, the body can continue to burn long after. This is because as subcutaneous fat melts and liquefies, it becomes a fuel source and the body continues to burn until only charred bones remain. Holocaust survivors who survived Nazi concentration camps recalled the smell of burning bodies and described it as an unforgettable and loathsome stench.
A slower, more agonizing death however is from extensive smoke inhalation. Beyond the initial damage sustained to the windpipe, breathing passages and lungs, the risk of developing cancer and heart disease increases exponentially. PM2.5 are fine particles in wildfire smoke that enter your lungs and bloodstream. For people with pre-existing heart and respiratory issues, the consequences can be dire.
There will be time, once the all-clear is given and the California wildfires have either been entirely extinguished or adequately contained, where pointing fingers will be appropriate. But in the long term, I believe that history will remember these wildfires as a tragedy of too little. Too little water, too little firefighters, too little maintenance of power lines, too little deforestation, too little irrigation and too little insurance companies to mitigate the financial crisis in its aftermath.
But as always, in times like these, there are often more than enough people willing to come together amid the rubble to re-build and help those affected move forward. That in its finest display is human nature. Those efforts will continue until another tragedy strikes and attention is diverted. This is the circle of history.
The start of a new year symbolizes a renewed opportunity to fulfill latent goals and forge deeper connections and memories with loved ones. The victims of the wildfire won’t get that opportunity and neither will the Bahamians who’ve died this year. So, it’s up to us, the living, to use this opportunity that a new year grants to work harder, climb higher and have more compassion. We owe it to those we’ve lost and more importantly we owe it to ourselves.
This is The KDK Report.
