On September 30, 1999, at 10:35 AM, Hisashi Ouchi and Masato Shinohara, did not yet realize it, but they had just been sentenced to death by a loud crack and the appearance of an eerie blue glow. The blue glow was the Cherenkov Light, which appears around radioactive material when it achieves criticality. They had accidentally created a self-sustaining nuclear reaction, accompanied by the release of a massive quantity of neutrons.
A Slow Death was originally published in Japanese in 2002 and credited to Iwanami Shoten. This English edition is credited to the entire news team that documented the 83-day ordeal of Mr. Ouchi and the medical team that worked tirelessly, and against all hope, to save him.
Japan's Worst Nuclear Accident
When Ouchi and Shinohara added a seventh bucket of uranium solution to an improperly shaped tank at the JCO Tokaimura Plant, it set of an alarm and prompted their supervisor in the next room to holler, "run for your lives!" It was already too late. Ouchi retreated to a nearby changing room where he immediately vomited and lost consciousness.
Ouchi was transferred to a hospital where began an excruciating ordeal. He had received a dose of radiation several times greater than that known to be 100% fatal. He couldn't simply be left to die. The medical team had an obligation to the patient and to his family to do their best.
Heroically Futile Treatment
A team of doctors, specialist, radiation experts, nurses and technicians accepted the challenge of treating Mr. Ouchi. It wasn't long before they were in uncharted territory. There were no reference manuals for treatment of such a massive dose of neutrons.
Ouchi's chromosomes were shattered. His skin sloughed off. His intestines hemorrhaged blood. His immune system was destroyed. Tremendous quantities of painkillers, antifungals, and other drugs were administered. A stem cell transplant gave fleeting hope, but the decline was slow and inevitable.
A Miracle Resulting in Death
Eventually the medical team did harbor doubts about what they were doing. Was it worth it? Was Mr. Ouchi in pain? What would he want them to do? How must his family feel to see him with his raw flesh and fluids leaking from the surface of his body?
No one expected Mr. Ouchi to live more than a few weeks. No one else who had ever been exposed to that much radiation had. It is a testament to his will to live and the Japanese desire to "do their best" under the worst of circumstances. After 83 days, days documented in gruesome yet respectful technical detail (with photographs), it finally ended for Mr. Ouchi.
A Slow Death stands as reminder of the terrible consequences of radiation exposure. It is a call, a demand really, for us to always balance the desire for technical achievement with humility and respect for the power of the atomic nucleus.
References
NHK-TV "Tokaimura Criticality Accident" Crew. A Slow Death. New York, NY: Vertical, 2008.
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