Shredder accident survivor's fight for life

Chris Fromont

Chris Fromont does not remember much of Wednesday, February 22.

He remembers going to work for Manawatu Waste at New Plymouth's refuse transfer station. He remembers being stuck in the industrial shredding machine they used to mulch trees and green waste. He remembers being rushed to hospital in the ambulance, and the watery faces of family and friends as he lay in his Taranaki hospital bed in the days to come. And he remembers the pain, excruciating pain, as he lay trapped. But that is all Chris remembers about the day he lost his legs and an arm.

For wife Anne and brother Stephen, the memories are clearer. They were there as, for two hours, a doctor and emergency service staff worked to free Chris from the machine. As Chris lay trapped, bleeding and conscious, the doctor amputated Chris's legs just above the knees, and an arm. Doctors are calling him "the miracle man": in that shredder, he lost more blood than any normal man can lose without dying. And Chris talked and joked throughout.

But neither Chris, Anne nor Stephen can talk about the accident in any detail. It is too fresh, too painful.

"We couldn't go anywhere near him, we just had to wait. It hurts when I think about it. I can't really talk about it. It was hard, but nothing compared to what Chris himself went through," says Stephen.

Former employees have said maintenance levels at Manawatu Waste were dangerous and the shredder was poorly managed, and Chris himself told his family the machine was always jamming. Health and Safety Taranaki says it is nearing the end of its investigation into the horrific accident, and all waste shredders and crushing machines are being examined as a result.
One Wellington shredder has already been shut down.

But Chris and his family do not want to speculate any more. They are focusing on one thing: the future.

"The first stage was survival. The second is rehabilitation. The third is independence and living a normal life again. And I will," says Chris, with a conviction that makes you forget any other possibility. After all, he survived against the odds, and doctors say his progress has been nothing short of amazing.

With five painful operations to clean and dress his wounds over, Chris is now in rehab, spending an hour and a half every morning in physiotherapy.

"My progress has been pretty amazing, from the intensive care unit to the ward to rehab in less than two months. I'm a naturally fit person. I think that has helped."

He must now learn again things he used to take for granted - the practicalities of losing three limbs go beyond the ability to walk, drive and grasp. Balance had to be re-learned, and just sitting upright on his own was hard work. He got the wobbles, smiles Chris.

His limbs - he lost both legs above the knee, his left arm below the elbow - are bandaged tight to round them into shape for the prosthetics Chris hopes to get in the next month. There is no pain any more, he says. Sometimes he even forgets what he has lost: Known as "phantom limb syndrome", at first he'd feel pain in toes that were no longer there, try to scratch an arm that didn't exist any more.

Grief and emotional pain rises up now and then. Anne fights back tears when she takes her mind back to that Wednesday. But she too takes solace in the positive. She has seen a strength in her husband, and in herself, she never knew was there.

"I've always known he was very strong - we've had some good head-to-heads over the years. He's quite opinionated. But now I think he's a lot stronger than I thought he was. I'm going to rethink my debating strategies," she says with a rare smile. "He's been quite amazing. I haven't seen him get down much at all. Maybe he does, but not when I'm around. He's trying to be three months down the track now. He's really impatient."

The family keep things light, with Chris' brothers taking the opportunity to "poke the borax" at their youngest sibling. They joke about who's going to get Chris' shoes and smuggle beer into the ward. They reckon he deserves a few cold ones, says Stephen, who says the tragedy has brought the family closer.

The couple have been overwhelmed by the public support, receiving box-loads of letters from well-wishers. Chris has not seen them all yet - there's too many to bring in. One woman, a complete stranger, turned up on their doorstep and offered to do chores and even brought round a pink halter and leash for their kitten, Pinot, that the couple got three days before Chris' accident. It is this goodness in people that buoys Chris.

"There's been times when I think, why did this happen to me? But I haven't really let myself delve into the hard part of coping. I believe in a supreme being, and family and friends and the generosity of others gives me inner strength."

The next few weeks will bring more change. Anne and Chris have bought a new house, a one-storey Lockwood more suitable for Chris' needs and close to shops and cafes. Now able to go home for a day at a time, Chris is looking forward to getting an electric wheelchair, and within a month he hopes to be measured up for prosthetic limbs.

It will be hard, says Chris, but there is no reason why he can't go back to life as normal. He takes inspiration from the likes of double-amputee and mountaineer Mark Inglis. And after all, he's the miracle man.

"I can move around and be independent. I'm quite positive about it. I will look for another job, I want to go to cafes, cook dinner and get back to normal life. None of it should be any different.

"I've got to look at the future now. I can't look back."

A trust fund for Chris has been set up to help provide financial assistance in what is expected to be a long rehabilitation. Donations can be made to the Chris Fromont Trust at any branch of the BNZ or via electronic transfer to BNZ account number 020708 0094778 83.