From Wound to Restoration: A Visual Timeline of Healing
They say a picture is worth a thousand words. In this case, a picture is worth about a thousand stitches, a five-hour surgery, a 60-minute helicopter ride, and more pain than I can describe.
This page is a raw, unedited photo timeline of my hand’s healing process—capturing the slow, painful, miraculous work that God has been doing since the accident.
Warning: Some of these photos are not for the faint of heart—there are stitches, swelling, and plenty of evidence that table saws and human hands don’t mix well. If that kind of thing makes you queasy, you may want to scroll carefully.

My view from inside the SkyLife Air Ambulance on the night of my accident, en route to The Buncke Clinic for emergency surgery.

Moments after takeoff, wearing noise-canceling headphones and—thanks to some pretty great drugs—a big smile on my way to emergency surgery.

Me with my incredible flight nurse, Katelyn, who took care of me during my emergency airlift.

My hand in the full splint I wore for six weeks, immobilized to protect healing grafts and repairs after surgery.

Close-up of my healing hand at 10 days post-op, showing the four surgical pins stabilizing my fingers.

Two weeks post-op, showing the initial healing process with visible surgical pins, stitches, and scar tissue beginning to form.

Palm view of my injured hand at two weeks post-op, showing exposed grafts, stitches, and swelling.

The donor site on my forearm two weeks after surgery, where skin and blood vessels were harvested for grafting onto my middle finger.

My hand at 18 days post-op, showing exposed surgical pins, stitches, and skin graft healing.

The underside of my injured hand at 18 days post-op, showing healing skin grafts, stitches, and scarring.

Four weeks post-op, with surgical pins still in place and scars beginning to form.

A look at my healing palm at 28 days post-op, showing the grafted skin and early scar formation.

A closer look at my healing graft—and the black eschar that had formed over part of it— as well as the stitches at four weeks post-op.

Five and a half weeks post-op, showing peeling skin grafts and scar tissue formation.

A look at the top side of my healing hand at 39 days post-op, showing scarring, pins, and the foil stint on my pinky nailbed.

X-ray at 41 days post-op, showing four surgical pins stabilizing fractures, a break in the middle finger, and a shaved-down MCP joint in the index finger.
[Video] 46 Days Post-Op, just 3 days after the surgical pins came out. A small but hard-earned milestone—for the first time since the accident, I was able to pinch my index finger and thumb together. Slow progress, but progress nonetheless.

Nearly seven weeks post-op, with scar tissue forming and the damaged pinky nail beginning to regrow.

A side view of the healing hand at 48 days post-op, showing swelling-induced tightness and scar tissue buildup.

The palm side of the healing hand at 48 days post-op, with a darkened skin graft and scar tissue.

54 days into healing—scars fading, function improving, but still a long way to go.

The most painful (and thickest) scar I have—where the saw blade went through my index MCP joint.

The grafted skin and scars tell a story of both trauma and healing.

A close-up of the red granulation tissue forming in the new nail bed on my pinky.

Seven weeks post-op, using the fingers God saved to light the Advent Candle of Light that represents the Son He sent to save us all. A moment of worship, gratitude, and testimony to His faithfulness during Christmas Eve services at our church, Trinity Community Church.

The splint helps protect movement while encouraging recovery.

63 days post-op: Swelling has gone down, scars are forming, and healing continues.

99 days post-op: Scar tissue continues to thicken, swelling continues, and—although I still have no feeling in middle finger yet—function is slowly improving.
The Photo You Won’t See Here…
Believe it or not, I have a photo of my hand just minutes after it happened.
I am not posting it here. Not because I think you’d pass out. The real reason? My daughter, Sophia, reads this blog.
And that photo? It would haunt her dreams. Probably yours, too.
So, to protect her (and, let’s be real, you), I’m keeping it off the internet.
But if you’re the type who thrives on gore and medical oddities, here’s the deal: invite me to coffee, and I’ll show it to you. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.