Survivor of Texas Bonfire Tragedy Says He Remembers Everything

John Comstock sat a little unsteadily Thursday in his hospital chair, readying for his new life, yet reeling from the memories of the Nov. 18 bonfire collapse.<br><br>He said he remembers everything about

Friday, February 4th 2000, 12:00 am

By: News On 6

John Comstock sat a little unsteadily Thursday in his hospital chair, readying for his new life, yet reeling from the memories of the Nov. 18 bonfire collapse.

He said he remembers everything about that day.

He was wiring logs together on the fourth tier when the 60-foot stack collapsed.

"It was pretty fast," Comstock said. "It just shook once and then I just grabbed a log and rode it down. There's not much else you could do. When you're 55 feet up in the air, you can't really just jump."

Twelve people died and 26 others were injured in the accident, which remains under investigation. Comstock was the last person pulled out alive. Comstock said he felt hot and impatient and suffered searing pain throughout the seven hours he waited to be rescued. His body was buried beneath the logs with only his left arm visible to rescuers.

"They were trying to talk to me and I was like murmuring because the log I rode down was actually on my head," he said. "Then, when the emergency people got there and they put a tag on me, I didn't know what it meant. I thought, 'Are they going to sacrifice you to save five other people?'" When rescue workers found Comstock alive amid the debris, they asked for his blood type, then asked if he knew his phone number. He used the fingers of his left hand to signal his mother's phone number.

Comstock said upon reflection, he appreciates the cheer he heard from the crowd as he was freed from the stack.

"But at the time, I was just more thankful to be out of there after being trapped for so long," he said.

Comstock, a freshman at A&M, said he plans to return to the school next fall. For now, his mother says she wants to get her 19-year-old son closer to their Richardson home.

"I'm just looking forward to going to rehab and getting well and being able to have a full recovery," he said. "This has been a long road already." Comstock said he just wants a change of scenery. He said he misses his friends, his freedom and sleeping on his stomach.

He spends his days talking on the telephone, visiting with friends and watching television. Wheel of Fortune and Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? are his favorites. "You get so bored, but you just have to sit through it sometimes," he said. "And now that my friends know they can visit me, I get a full load every night. I enjoy that."

After 70 days in critical condition at the College Station Medical Center, Comstock's condition was upgraded last week to serious. Comstock remains in the intensive care unit, but more out of familiarity and comfort than necessity, hospital officials have said.

Weeks ago, doctors and family members feared he would not survive. Much of Comstock's body was crushed. He has had several surgeries for internal injuries and was on kidney dialysis and a breathing machine for many weeks. Part of his left leg was amputated and his broken right wrist remains wrapped in bandages.

Now he can sit upright in a chair for an hour twice a day, but he does not have enough strength in his back and abdomen for longer periods of time. "It's hard to sit up because my back's not real strong," he said. "And I don't have any meat left on my butt."

His mother, Dixie Edwards, said she is encouraged that his appetite is improving. Comstock's weight dropped from 165 to 98 pounds after the accident. A week ago, he was back up to 125, he said.

"I can eat pretty much what I want as long as I chew it real well," he said. Comstock has temporarily lost voluntary use of his right wrist, his dominant arm, but he said once the fracture heals, he will begin therapy for it.

"I have full range of motion there, but I just can't move it," he said. "Those nerves are asleep. It's just going to take time for that to heal." Comstock said he is feeling stronger and more healthy with each day. "It gets easier day by day," he said. "We have good days and bad days." Comstock was heavily sedated during much of the first several weeks. He said being weaned from the medication was "a double-edged sword, because now I feel all that pain."

But he said now that he is fully alert, he is beginning to take stock of his good fortune. His mother, who has been living in a motor home nearby, has been at his side from the first day.

"She's been my saving life force, let me just say that," he said, his voice cracking with emotion. "I don't know what I'd do without her."

Edwards said it has been hard to shift her focus from her 12-year-old daughter, Laura, who is in Richardson with her stepfather. Both come to visit on the weekends.

"Through the hard times, through the bad times, it's been hard for her to see her brother in that kind of condition and not know what's going to happen," she said. "But she's done real well. She's had to do a lot of growing up overnight, making her own arrangements for basketball practices and games and things."

Comstock said he feels grateful to the doctors, nurses, lab technicians and respiratory therapist, "who have been working real hard to keep me going." But he and his mother said the deluge of support from Aggies and well-wishers worldwide has been a mixed blessing.

"At first, it's kind of amazing and you feel real special," he said. "But sometimes you wonder about it, do you really want to be a celebrity?" Edwards has sifted through the hundreds of gifts and cards that have arrived at the hospital for her son.

"I'm one of those people that nothing goes to waste," she said. "I sent the flowers to the geriatric unit and Ed, my husband, had his indulgence of the brownies and cookies. Everything else we've saved except for a couple of things we've given away. One of these days, we'll go through it and he'll realize how much there is."

For example, she said, a teddy bear went to the daughter of a doctor who was working when Comstock arrived. The girl, who has leukemia, spent Christmas in the hospital.

"Everyone has just been wonderful," she said. "People are always asking and I always say just give him a prayer. That's all he needs and that certainly has been a comfort."

Comstock and his mother have been reluctant to recount the tragedy.

Edwards said Thursday she first heard of the early-morning collapse around 6 a.m., when a friend called to tell her Comstock was the only one unaccounted for from his dorm.

"Of course I went through my 'mother thing' you do where you yell and scream and jump up and down because you think your kid's dead," she said. At 7 a.m., a minister in College Station called to tell her Comstock was OK and that he was with him at the stack.

She watched on television as Comstock was pulled from the debris. "For an hour and a half, I did my jumping and screaming, feeling absolutely elated. Then I thought, 'What do I have to do next?'" she said. "I took care of business and then we left and came here. I've been here ever since." Seventy-eight days later, Comstock said he would not work on building another Bonfire.

"Not up on stack, on the wiring," he said. "I don't know if I'd really want to go to a cut, either. I'd just watch it burn because I already did all my work for that."

He watched a videotape of the game between A&M and the University of Texas, which A&M's annual Bonfire precedes. The Texas band played Amazing Grace, which Comstock considered a nice touch.

"It was pretty nice that they included the memorial as well, and had the maroon ribbon in the end zone and stuff," he said.

The night before the game, thousands attended a candlelight vigil at the Bonfire site, then walked to Kyle Field for a yell practice.

Edwards said Comstock considers A&M his only option for college.

"If I had my way, I'd say, 'You're going to stay right here at home and you're going to have tutors for the next three years. Don't move,'" she said. "But I know that's not realistic.

"That's the hardest part, letting go," she said. "Especially after all this." Comstock already has requested a room at his old dorm, Moses Hall, and he's learning to master his new laptop computer, which was donated by an A&M
campus organization. He said he has written a few letters to friends and intends to take online classes to catch up at school.

When Comstock returns to A&M, he wants to live in his old dormitory. Malon Southerland, vice president for student affairs, told him that would not be a problem, he said.

"That's where he lived and he wants to go back there," Southerland said. "I think the connection with his friends and getting back into studying and being at the university will be a positive thing.

"His willpower has been an inspiration for thousands of people through all this, and what he plans to do is completely awesome," he said. "We look forward to having him back. That will be a great day."

Stephanie Cumpton, director of intensive care, said Comstock kept his manners throughout the ordeal.

"Everybody was talking about how intelligent he was and how polite he was," she said. "He came into the emergency room saying, 'Yes ma'am,' 'No ma'am' and sometimes he'd say, 'Would you hurry, ma'am?'"

Nurses told his mother that as Comstock was being examined, he said, "If I don't make it, tell my family I love them."

Edwards hugged Comstock Thursday and called him "my little miracle."

"He came into the world two and half months early, weighed 2 1/2 pounds and he hasn't stopped fighting since," she said.