- James Culatta, 18, is lucky to be alive after falling into a scalding hot spring
- The teen needed skin graphs for the burns that covered 50 per cent of his body
- Now he’s walking again, and performing on stage.
Here he tells his own story in his own words.
With the sun beating down on my skin, I wiped a bead of sweat from my eyes.
It was June 2024, and I was hiking near Topaz Mountain, Utah, US, with my uncle Joey, then 44, and cousin Naomi, 10.
We’d heard there were some hot springs nearby and were keen to explore.
My parents Richard, then 46, and Shaundra, 43, were not too far behind, as I eagerly forged ahead.
We’d only been walking for about 15 minutes on the gravel track when the ground suddenly gave way from under me.
I had no time to even call out to my family behind me as I plunged into a scalding hot spring.
Landing in 93-degree water and scorching mud, I felt like I was being cooked alive.
‘James!’ my cousin screamed as she ran up, her terrified face peering down at me.
Waist deep in mud and near-boiling water, I tried wading out of the five-metre-wide hole, but the ground was too unstable and I lost my footing.
Time felt like it was moving in slow motion, but only about 10 seconds had passed. Convinced that I was going to die, I summoned all my strength and managed to roll myself out of the hole.
‘Go get help!’ I cried to Naomi, as I got back up on my feet.
Relieved to be on solid land, I pulled off my shirt and shorts that were slick with hot mud, then lay on my back as shock set in.
Looking down at my hands, I was horrified to see that my skin had melted off.
It was hard to tell the extent of my burns through the mud covering me, but I knew it was bad.
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It felt like someone had peeled the skin off half my body.
Excruciating pain overwhelmed me as I fought to remain conscious.
Delirious, I barely registered when Mum and Dad rushed to my side, along with my uncle Joey and Naomi.
‘Hang in there,’ Dad said, a horrified look on his face. ‘You’re going to be okay,’ Mum soothed.
But with so much of my skin gone, I’d lost the ability to regulate my temperature.
It felt like I was being skinned alive
My uncle phoned emergency services and finally, after 45 agonising minutes, I heard the whirr of the chopper blades as help arrived.
After safely landing nearby, the paramedics raced over to stretcher me back to the aircraft.
I was grateful for the pain relief they provided.
As there wasn’t much room in the helicopter, Mum flew the 45 minutes to hospital with me, while Dad made the three-hour drive to meet
us there.
By the time we arrived, I was delirious with the pain. Doctors explained they’d need to scrub my burnt skin from the bottom half of my body to lessen my risk of infection.
They tried to be gentle, but it felt like I was being skinned alive.
I was intubated and sedated while they pumped me full of medication to fight infection. I hated the feeling of the tube but was just glad to be alive.
I had full thickness burns to 50 per cent of my body. A few days later I had major surgery, where doctors removed the dead skin and grafted over the burned areas using unaffected skin from my upper body.
The delicate procedure took five hours, and over 600 staples were used to hold the new skin in place.
But I knew my recovery was only just beginning.
My dressings were changed every few days, and for four weeks I stayed still to aid with my recovery. I was wrapped head to toe in bandages.
My family were my light in the darkness.
After four weeks, doctors had good news – my grafts had been successful. Next they had to remove the staples.
My parents held my hands as doctors manually pulled each one free.
It took about two weeks to get them all out. They did about 50 a day and then let me rest.
Peering down at my legs riddled with thick red and purple scars, it looked like they’d been put through a blender.
But it was progress.
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I started rehabilitation to re-learn how to stand and move, as my muscles had wasted away from lack of use.
Unable to even drink from a cup by myself, I felt helpless.
But I pushed through, determined to get my mobility back.
When I took my first steps after a month in bed, I could barely feel my legs.
Shuffling a few steps from my hospital bed felt like a marathon.
But it gave me a spark of hope.
In September 2024, after two months in intensive care, I was allowed to go home, where I continued with physical therapy.
Having loved to dance for as long as I can remember, I wanted nothing more than to be able to move normally again.
And when I heard that my school was going to be putting on a production of the musical Footloose, I knew I had to audition.
But I was still struggling to walk, let alone dance and sing on stage.
‘We know you can do it,’ my parents encouraged.
After auditioning, I couldn’t believe it when I found out I’d got the starring role as Ren McCormack.
The rehearsals were gruelling, but I pushed myself to complete every move.
Following months of rehearsing, in May 2025 I took to the stage – still wearing medical grade compression garments underneath my costume.
My family and members of my medical team were in the audience.
As I took my final bow at the end of the show, the whole crowd erupted in applause.
Now I’m focused on my studies at Utah Valley University.
I hope to become a physical therapist, and I recently volunteered at a camp for kids who, like me, had suffered burns.
I’ll need ongoing therapy, and will continue to have laser surgery on my legs and upper body every few months to break down the scar tissue and help my mobility.
With luck and hard work, I’ll be centre stage for years to come.
I feel grateful every day for everyone who helped me on this journey, and I’ll never again take for granted the ability to walk – or dance.
