This is not an easy piece to write. Whenever you hear of a tragedy one always thinks “that will never happen to me,” but the truth is we can never really know that.

I can’t even remember what I was doing on the fateful day. It was a Saturday. The 7th of May 2011. I know the kids and I had been out for most of the day and we had just come home. I found my husband Richard still working to complete a job for the following week. We had many an argument about the fact he worked so many weekends. I huffed again and asked how much longer he was going to be. I remember those words as clear as day… “I just want to cut one more thing quick.”

The back door was open and it seemed quiet outside. I then heard shouting at the back door.

“Babe, we need to go to the hospital!”

In the few seconds it took me to get to the back door, I had thought to myself, what now? How many times had we already been? Then I heard “ I’ve cut my fingers off.”

I thought he was joking. He does have quite the sick sense of humour. I got to the back door and to my horror I saw him standing there holding this mangled, mashed piece of meat. I wanted to scream! I swallowed the panic. I told him to go around the house to the car. I shouted down the passage for the girls to get their stuff together we had to go to the hospital. I grabbed my bag, the keys and on the way to the front door, I grabbed a towel out the linen cupboard for him to wrap his hand in so the kids wouldn’t see.

Too late, they both walked out the front door as Richard came round corner. I didn’t have the luxury of consoling them for the horror they had seen and I bundled them into the car. I tried to drive reasonably, knowing how much pain he must be in, but also trying to be as quick as I could. I just kept thinking to myself; don’t cry, you can’t cry, you have to keep it together. I kept wondering, is this a dream? Has this really happened? Is it really as bad as it looked? Can they fix it?

As stated above, Richard has quite the weird sense of humour. When we got to the hospital he took charge of the emergency room, telling the doctors and nurses what and how to do everything. I had to go and fill in all the forms in the waiting room. The girls were in a state so I arranged for them to go to their father. I phoned my sister to tell her what happened and that we were at the hospital. Thank goodness she rushed right over and the moment I saw her, all the wheels came off. I sobbed and cried. This could not be happening.

I still didn’t know exactly how bad it was. The ER doctor was not forthcoming and Richard was as calm as cucumber. This made me think, ok, it can’t be that bad. Some surgery and they will put the fingers he could save back and fix up the rest. He’ll be fine. Then I saw the X-rays. I still remember standing there staring at the film on the light box on the wall thinking, that can’t possibly be Richard’s hand. There’s nothing left. It’s all gone. What the fuck now??? He’s right handed. How is he ever going to work again? How is he going to get dressed? How is going to get washed and look after himself with only one hand? The panic set in full force. I cried and sobbed some more. Why is this happening to us? What have we done to deserve this? How am I going to handle living with an invalid? My whole life turned upside down.

We got through surgery and the following day, Sunday I took him home. It was quite funny because he was panicking about the job he had to finish for a client on the Tuesday. He was cracking jokes and pacing around his workshop. He was determined not to let this get in his way. Personally I think it was all denial that got him through those first few weeks (and lots of drugs!).

So, he showered himself, dressed himself, brushed his own teeth and finished that job all with his left hand. I am not sure how many times I went to the pharmacy to collect pain meds, take him to the doctor for the checkups, all the while thinking, I can’t believe this is happening. Every time I thought about it I burst into tears. I felt so helpless. I also felt a bit responsible, because if I hadn’t pushed for him to get finished on that Saturday, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

I am very lucky that Richard kept his spirits up. He was inspired from the beginning to find a solution to his handless problem. Within the first month he had made some gadgets that he donated to the Occupational Therapists office, that assist one handed people to do up their own buttons. He spent hours scouring the internet on how to tie your shoe laces with one hand. There were also many hours trying to look at prosthetics and see what was available for finger amputees.

We made jokes to try and take the severity out of the situation. I begged him to take time off to recuperate but he went back to work. He didn’t sleep much, which made me not sleep well, which then in turn made me more emotional and weepy. I used to go sit in the loo at work and just cry silent tears. I would do the same thing at home so no one would see how upset I was by this whole thing.

There was nothing I could DO!

We talked. A lot. Which I think helped to try and get through the anger to the acceptance stage. I was so angry. How could this possibly be happening to us? All the medical expenses. How could this possibly be happening to us? We’re the good guys. We are always the ones helping everyone else. Why did this happen? So, so angry. If Rich wasn’t going to be able to work, how was I going to be the breadwinner and look after the family? That wasn’t what I signed up for… More and more anger. Who the hell did the universe think it was? Doing this to us. How dare it! Lots and lots of anger!

Then I started wondering, what could possibly be the lesson that we are supposed to learn out of this? How do you turn a tragedy into a positive influence? I still don’t have all the answers but I kept thinking that there is always someone out there worse off than us. We will get through this. We will find a way. I couldn’t believe that Richard remained so calm about the whole thing. I know he is a rational and practical thinker, so am I, but in situations like this that goes out the window and you generally become a bundle of emotion.

When I look back, I see how Richard protected the kids and I from his situation. He did not ask for help no matter how many times I offered it. Yes he complained about the pain and the weird sensations and things, but he never made a big deal out of it. He kept it to a minimal. As much as he still doesn’t ask for help, I try to remember that every day is a struggle for him. So I put toothpaste on his toothbrush. I try to remember to open the new milk just before the old one is finished. I buy everything for the bathroom in pump action bottles and bought him a long loofah to help wash his back. How do you squeeze out a face cloth with one hand? We had to change his mouse to operate left handed. Everyone says it’s not so bad having to do that, but I have tried on numerous occasions to work my mouse left handed and after 15 minutes I am so frustrated I want to throw the thing across the room. Now Rich doesn’t have a choice.

I can’t begin to imagine what it has been like for Richard. For 42 years he was right handed and in a split second he had to become left handed. We tracked down left handed scissors. He had to relearn to do EVERYTHING! Those things that come naturally that we don’t even think about, flipping the switch on the kettle, opening the fridge, taking something out the door of the fridge. The jugs with handles I turn the other way around now for him. Peeling potatoes became a whole new challenge. Chopping and cutting, stirring his coffee, turning on the taps, eating dinner with a knife and a fork. Initially I had to cut up his meat; I now scoop out his gem squash. Driving was also fun.

I am sobbing as I write this, because I cannot believe we have come so far after such a terrible tragedy! Every day is a challenge by itself, but we are ok.

When we hold hands now, I am used to curling my fingers around the flat part of his hand where there are no fingers, and I’m getting used to the fact that his fingers can’t hold me back.

The hardest part now is watching the frustration with his tools. How he battles to use a screwdriver. He cannot use a hammer. Most of his machinery has the power button in an awkward place so he cannot use his left hand. Not to mention then safety is compromised when you’re leaning over your machines to use your other hand to operate it. Rich is a perfectionist so now it takes him 5 times longer to do something as he expects the same quality from himself even tho’ all of him is not there anymore. The frustrating this for me, is there is nothing I can do. I cannot fix it. I cannot take the pain away (of which he is still suffering terribly). I cannot grow him new fingers. I cannot buy him a prosthetic because there aren’t any available and those that are, are so exorbitantly priced.

One morning when I got up, Richard was very excited. He had been on line all night and found a video of a guy who made a mechanical hand. He told me that he thinks this might be the answer or at least the right path to the answer. He was going to email this guy and see what he said. I felt good that he had a new lease again. He was excited.

And so the positive and frustrating journey of developing fingers began. Ivan in Bellingham, USA and Richard in Johannesburg, South Africa. We set up Skype and the two of them met on line. Tons of emails, pictures and chats later, we have a few prototypes between the two of them. Now comes the difficult part. We need to get Ivan to SA so the two of them can be in the same place at the same time and refine this prototype. We need money to be able to bring Ivan here and purchase the materials they need to make this finger a proper functioning one. The best news about this is that we are not planning to patent this design but to give it away once it’s working. We will publish it on the web for anyone who is sitting with this disability and they will just need to purchase the material to make the finger.