Like thousands of other teens, Nick Sabatino spent several hectic hours Tuesday morning getting dressed and ready for his first day back at West Leyden High School in Northlake.
But unlike most others, Sabatino did not go through this teenage morning ritual in the lonely hush of a darkened bedroom, dreading the beginning of the school year.
Instead, his family and a small group of well-wishers crowded the doorway of his room, watching as private duty nurse DeEtta Johnson helped Sabatino don clothes, adjusted his belt and combed his hair.
And so enthusiastic were they about his morning toilette, and return to school, an observer almost failed to notice Sabatino’s jagged facial scars and stiff attempts at walking.
But the scars, his bandaged legs, hands, chest and abdomen, are a graphic testimony to Sabatino’s strength and determination.
Little more than a year ago, doctors didn’t expect the badly burned and broken teen to live, much less walk or return to school.
On May 10, 1992, Mother’s Day, Sabatino was riding in a car driven by his best friend and classmate, Eugene Lampch, 17. The two were just south of Rockford, headed home, when the car hit a bridge abutment, overturned and exploded in a small ravine.
Sabatino, then 16, struggled unsuccessfully to free Lampch, despite broken bones, and in the process was burned over 90 percent of his body.
Medical personnel subsequently could only shake their heads when asked about his prognosis.
The teen proved them wrong.
Initially airlifted to the burn unit at Loyola Medical Center in Maywood, Sabatino was later taken to Shriners Children’s Hospital in Cincinnati, where he spent eight months enduring more than 25 surgeries and intensive physical therapy.
Returning home earlier this year, he was lauded during an appearance in the Illinois House in Springfield for his struggle to live and determination to pick up where he left off.
Always, Sabatino said, that determination focused on returning to school.
“I just kept telling the nurses, `I’m going to graduate with my class whether I have to crawl up onstage or someone has to carry me,’ ” he said. “It was the one thing I could do that was normal after everything that happened, and I needed to prove that it could be done.”
Ready to make good on his promise Tuesday, Sabatino shot a concerned glance out the window as the gray skies poured a steady stream of rain on his quiet Northlake street.
“What about my hair?” Sabatino asked Johnson, waving bandaged hands around his head and then at the rain with a worried motion.
“Your hair is fine, just leave it alone,” Johnson said, smiling as she helped him straighten his shirt. “You look great.”
“You do, Nicky,” agreed his mother, Aleta Cecilia, as his brothers Anthony Cecilia, 12, and Chris Sabatino, 22, and family friend State Rep. Bob Biggins nodded. “You really do.”
After a quick chat with his stepfather, Louis, on a speakerphone, and further reassurances, Sabatino walked carefully to the family dining room and sat down, refusing offers of breakfast.
“I’m too nervous,” he said.
Despite that nervousness, Sabatino said he was ready to throw himself into the school routine with a regular class schedule of English, chemistry, American History and a class called “Contemporary Problems,” followed by daily physical therapy sessions.
Unable to participate in many extracurricular activities, Sabatino said he hopes to join school theater productions this year as a light or sound director.
Some friends have admitted to being uncomfortable with Sabatino’s now-scarred appearance, but he said he is unafraid of stares or comments.
“Most people are nice, but if someone stares or says obnoxious things, I’ll just take it, because I’d rather be there in school than stuck in some hospital bed wasting away,” he said, adding that he hopes those who stare will ask about his appearance so he can explain it.
To pave the way, a representative of the Shriners Children’s Hospital will meet with West Leyden students, faculty and administrators this week to explain Sabatino’s condition and educate them about burn patients. Once that happens, Sabatino hopes he will be accepted with a minimum of fuss.
“I get a lot of attention because of the way I look, and it’s hard,” he said. “I used to be really shy, but now I can’t be. I learned that in the hospital.”
Sabatino has lost that shyness (“When you spend all that time in the hospital with everyone looking at your bare behind, you lose your dignity and your shyness,” Johnson said.).
Rarely dating before the accident, he has had two girlfriends since returning home and said he hopes to date more this year.
Having reached his goal of returning to school this week, Sabatino said he plans to graduate in May and study psychology at Northern Illinois University in De Kalb next fall.
His physical problems are far from resolved, however. Sabatino still must undergo three surgeries this year, and others in the future. The family already has incurred close to $1 million in medical expenses, and they expect to reach their insurance limit soon.
Insurance companies have been tussling with the family over bills, Aleta Cecilia said. Donations to a trust fund set up for Sabatino have been limited, overshadowed perhaps by more sensational cases.
Those who want to help can send donations to Northlake Bank, 26 W. North Ave., Northlake 60164.
Although Sabatino said he plans to regain as many of his physical capabilities as possible, no matter what happens financially, his shoulders slumped slightly as he added, “But I would give everything, everything if things could be the way they were.”
Suddenly, younger brother Anthony broke the mood by announcing the arrival of a District 212 station wagon to take Sabatino to school.
At the door to West Leyden, Sabatino brightened as he was greeted by friends, a teacher and guidance counselor Roger Roeing.
“Well,” Sabatino smiled, “here we go.”
