- Brandon was on the roof fixing a leak when his wife Eleni Ford, 31, asked him to come down before there was an accident.
- Brandon was on his way down when he slipped from the roof and landed on his feet, causing his right leg to snap in half.
- After 18 months of agony and sustaining 28 fractures, Brandon was forced to give up his leg.
Here Brandon Ford,32, from Queensland tells his own story in his own words.
Smoothing the sealant on the roof, I admired my handiwork.
Good as new, I smiled.
It was September 2023 and, while my wife Eleni, then 29, was inside with our girls, Lylah, four, and Elouise, two, I was patching a roof leak.
Just then, Eleni came to check on me. ‘Can you get down from there,’ she called out. ‘I don’t want to spend Father’s Day in the emergency room with you tomorrow!’
She was right. As an electrician, I knew the importance of wearing a safety harness when working on a roof, but that Saturday morning I’d been in such a rush, I’d forgotten to gear up.
As I began to make my way back down, I spotted a patch of mould on our tin roof.
I’ll give it a quick blast, I thought, reaching for the hose that I’d brought up from the garage to clean off the muddy footsteps I’d left across the roof.
But as I leant over to pick it up, I slipped 15 metres across the slope of the tinned roof, cutting myself in multiple spots.
Then tumbling straight off the edge, I plunged three metres down onto my front yard.
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Narrowly missing Eleni, who was standing just a metre from where I fell, I landed upright on my feet.
I made it, I thought, triumphantly.
But almost instantaneously, I heard a sickening snap as my right ankle collapsed beneath me, causing me to fall on my back.
‘Oh my god!’ Eleni screamed, pointing out the unnatural angle of my ankle, which was sticking out to the side.
In shock, I couldn’t feel any pain.
But when I lifted my leg, my foot flopped around like jelly.
Horrified, Eleni raced inside to call an ambulance.
When paramedics arrived, they gave me pain relief and sedatives before bandaging me up and rushing me to hospital.
The girls stayed home with their grandad, while Eleni followed.
Arriving at Princess Alexandra Hospital, an X-ray revealed that I’d suffered 28 fractures to my tibia – the shin bone.
The impact of my fall was so severe it’d cracked my fibula – calf bone – horizontally and vertically.
The following day I underwent surgery to have an external fixator – like a metal scaffold – placed outside my leg and pinned to the bone, to hold it together.
Over the next four weeks, I underwent 12 surgeries, where my leg was regularly washed out to clean it, and I contracted compartment syndrome – a painful build-up of pressure.
Once the pressure finally eased, surgeons worked for six hours, using 32 screws and four metal plates to piece my bones back together.
Finally, I was sent home in October on crutches.
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But two weeks later, I was rushed back to the hospital, after I contracted an infection and sepsis.
Put on regular wound care and antibiotics until the sepsis dissolved, I was then allowed to go back home.
Determined to regain some independence, although I was still in pain, I returned to light duties at work.
In June 2024 I had some of the screws and plates removed from my leg. But after a few months passed, in September, I developed an infection in my shin bone, which left me bedridden for months.
By now, it’d been a year since my accident, and I felt like I’d been betrayed by my own body.
Will I ever be able to run around with the girls or do things I love, like wake-boarding again? I fretted.
So, when a doctor suggested I have my leg amputated, at first it felt like I was succumbing to my injury, instead of fighting to save my leg.
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‘If you continue to have more surgeries on your leg, there won’t be much left to save,’ my doctor advised.
My leg had held me back for too long and, desperate to return to being the hands-on husband and father I’d been, I agreed to the amputation. I also wanted the pain to be gone.
We sat our girls down and I gently explained, ‘Daddy has a bad leg, so the doctors are going to take it away and give me a robot leg.’
‘That’s so cool, Daddy,’ Elouise said.
Finally, in February this year, after 18 months of agony, my right leg was amputated below the knee.
Stealing a glance at my missing leg for the first time after surgery was bittersweet.
I was glad to no longer be in pain, but I knew it would take time to adjust.
I was released from the hospital in a wheelchair.
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Then in June I was fitted for a prosthetic limb.
I was so excited to finally stand on two feet after so long.
Taking a few steps with my new prosthetic, at first the pain was unbearable, but I was determined to persevere.
With my new leg I was soon able to do 100 laps of the room. Everyone there, including Eleni and my mum, cheered me on so proudly.
Now more than two years on from my ordeal, I’m so glad to be with Eleni, and our girls, Lylah, now six, and Elouise, four.
I advise anyone who is working on their roof to wear a harness to prevent themselves from falling and getting injured.
Better yet, if it’s a risky job, leave it to the professionals.
It’s been tough, but I’m determined to keep pushing forward, one step at a time.
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