- Mark Hardeman, 63, Cheltenham, Vic was working on a project in the garage when he had a nail gun accident
- The metal ricocheted off the wood and incredibly hit Mark’s heart
- Luckily help arrived and Mark survived the terrible ordeal
Here Mark tells his story in his own words.
Pulling on my work boots, I headed out to my garage with a nail gun in hand.
It was November 2023, and I’d spent the morning out at work sites.
A builder by trade, I was keen to get construction underway on a wall frame for my next client, then I’d knock off for the day.
Working steadily for 30 minutes, the thump of the nail gun rang out.
STORY CONTINUES BELOW
It was a nice afternoon, so I left the garage door open, pausing my work to wave at my neighbour Meabh who was returning home with her two boys from school pickup.
As the boys ran inside, she waved from her car.
Turning back to my frame, I fired another nail.
But instead of sinking into the timber, the nail caught on a knot in the wood, and I watched in horror as the sharp metal ricocheted off the panel and into my chest.
Ahh, I yelled out, staggering backwards in agonising pain.
Looking down, I could only see the head of the 7.5cm nail sticking out of my shirt.
The nail has pierced my heart, I realised, horrified.
Trying to stem my panic, I worked to steady my breathing as I lowered myself to the garage floor.
It felt like a giant hand was squeezing my chest, crushing the air out of my lungs.
I need help, I thought.
While the pressure inside me kept mounting – it felt like an elephant was sitting on me – I fought to remain conscious.
Through the fog of pain, I heard footsteps.
Suddenly, Meabh’s face swam into vision.
‘Call an ambulance,’ I choked out.
‘Help’s coming. I’ll stay with you,’ she replied.
To my surprise, my son James, then 23, arrived home minutes later. He’d been let off work an hour early and had spotted me lying in the garage.
Seeing the state I was in, he took the phone from my neighbour, calmly communicating with the emergency services.
‘You’re going to be okay, Dad,’ he promised.
The wail of sirens was the last thing I heard as I succumbed to the pain and blacked out.
When I woke in hospital, James was by my side. My wife Kym, then 58, and sons Matthew, 30, and Adam, 28, were there too.
‘I’m so glad you’re alright,’ James said as he filled me in on what had happened.
He explained I’d begun convulsing, and foam was spilling from my mouth as I fought to stay alive.
The paramedics had arrived in 15 minutes, their eyes wide as they took in the nail pulsing ominously with each beat of my heart.
En route to The Alfred Hospital, Melbourne, my lungs were decompressed twice to relieve the pressure in my chest.
When I arrived, I was rushed into surgery to have the nail removed from my heart. I was then placed in an induced coma for eight days to recover.
Doctors told me the nail had embedded itself 75 millimetres deep into my heart’s right ventricle.
Doctors told me the nail had embedded itself 75 millimetres deep into my heart
You’re lucky you survived,’ they said.
After another three days in the ICU, I was discharged.
Returning home, I was filled with gratitude for my second chance at life.
Once I finally saw Meabh again, I thanked her for being so brave and jumping in to help.
‘You saved me,’ I said.
‘I’m glad you’re on the mend,’ she replied.
Kym and the boys doted on me while I recovered.
And thankfully, my clients understood that I needed time off to heal.
But by December, I was struggling to breathe, and alarm bells were ringing in my head.
Returning to my GP in January, I was sent for scans of my heart and they showed my tricuspid and mitral valves were damaged.
Doctors believe I could have had this from birth so it was unrelated to my accident.
But if I hadn’t been hit with the nail, it’s unlikely I would’ve discovered it!
‘You could have a stroke within six months if we don’t operate,’ the doctors warned me.
I was shocked. Getting shot by a nail in my heart had literally saved my life.
That March, I was back in hospital for my second open-heart surgery, this time to repair the damaged valves.
Once again doctors cut open my chest and, though the operation was successful, my heart’s rhythm faltered, leading to the implantation of a pacemaker.
I needed another five days in hospital to recover, with my sons and Kym by my side every step of the way.
Today, I’m fighting fit.
In August I was able to meet with the paramedics who helped save my life the day of the accident.
It was so emotional – without them I wouldn’t be around for my boys, or to grow old with Kym.
Now, I’m taking each day as it comes and I’m back at work.
These days, I take extra care when using the nail gun, always firing the machine straight on, instead of from the side, as I did that day in my garage.
I feel thankful and have so much to live for – Kym and I have plans to travel to Europe this year.
I truly feel like I am the luckiest man alive.
