- Arden was helping his dad on their family farm when he became trapped in a moving tractor auger
- Acting quickly, Arden’s dad Dan managed to free him before paramedics rushed him to hospital
- After three weeks in hospital and months of recovery, Arden is back on his feet, working as a primary school teacher and preparing for his first Ironman
Here Arden Coy, 23, from Logan Village, Qld, tells his story in his own words
Pulling on my high-vis T-shirt, footy shorts and boots, I wandered into the kitchen.
‘Ready when you are,’ my dad, Dan, then 53, smiled.
It was September 2025, and I was giving Dad a hand on our farm before heading off to my footy grand finals that afternoon.
The plan was to use the tractor auger to put in a new fence, by drilling holes along a length of the perimeter that separated us from our neighbours.
A four-acre property, we had a bunch of chickens, and Dad was prepping the new spot for some sheep.
‘It won’t take long,’ Dad assured me.
Driving out to the far end of our property, we parked the tractor before Dad demonstrated how to use the machine. I’d only done the job once before.
‘Keep your hands away from this part,’ he said, pointing out the sharp metal blades of the two-metre-long drill bit connected to the tractor.
As Dad fired up the machine, I got to work squaring up the fence line with a measuring tape and piece of rope, to ensure our holes were dug in a straight line before we put the posts in.
When I called out ‘ready’, Dad moved the machine into place and started drilling the hole.
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The ground we were working on was so hard, the auger’s drill bit struggled against it.
After four hours in the hot sun, we were on our 30th and final hole, when I lined up the drill and signalled to Dad to fire up the engine.
As the drill chewed through the earth, I placed my hand over the top and pushed down to try to help speed things along.
Suddenly, I felt my shirt tighten around me, and it started pulling me in towards the spinning drill.
As the machine buried its way into the earth with speed, I was yanked off my feet.
Then it spun me around and around, screwing me, legs first, into the earth below.
‘Help!’ I screamed to Dad, who switched off the machine and rushed to my side.
It’d all happened so fast, there was no time to react.
Now, I was buried waist deep in the ground, my armpits, torso, hips and pelvis tangled around the blade after the drill had chewed through my body.
The length of rope that I’d been using to measure the fence line had also wrapped itself tightly around me, and it was cutting off my circulation.
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‘Hang in there, mate. I’ve got you,’ Dad soothed.
Taking a pocket knife from his pants, he looked into my eyes.
‘Hold still,’ he instructed.
Terrified of what was to come, I squeezed my eyes shut.
With every swipe of Dad’s blade, I felt a layer of pressure release from my torso, as Dad freed me from the rope.
Then, in a desperate effort to save me, Dad used the blade to slice through my clothes and skin, until I was free from the grips of the blade.
Lifting my legs free of the hole, Dad placed me gently on the ground, before removing his shirt to apply pressure to the wounds on my lower abdomen.
Terrified of the sight of blood, I looked away as Dad worked on me.
‘You’re okay, mate,’ he reassured me, as I tried to block out the sound of my blood gushing onto the ground.
Dialling emergency, Dad followed the operator’s instructions, keeping me alert and breathing, before ringing my mum, Sam, then 52, who had been out at the time.
With the adrenaline wearing off, pain set in.
‘I love you, Dad,’ I cried scared I’d bleed to death.
By the time ambos arrived six minutes later, the pain was excruciating.
They raced me to Princess Alexandra hospital, with Dad by my side.
There a team of surgeons was waiting.
Then everything went black as I was placed into an induced coma.
When I woke in recovery three days later, Dad, Mum, my sisters Grace, 18, and Kat, 10, and girlfriend, Lottie, 21, were at my bedside.
‘Thank God you’re okay,’ my parents said.
To save my life, surgeons had worked for 16 hours to clean my wounds and stitch me back together.
The left side of my lower abdomen had been shredded into ribbons, and I had deep slashes to my left armpit, knee and foot.
Over the following days, surgeons took skin and muscle from my upper left thigh and grafted it across my abdomen.
I needed over 200 stitches and a few bags of blood.
‘We missed you, mate,’ my friend Lachlan said when he visited me in hospital.
While I hadn’t made it to the game the day of my accident, amazingly my mates went on to win the grand final in my honour.
Getting a little stronger each day, I began working with a physio and occupational therapist learning to sit up and walk again.
Rallying around, family and mates visited me in hospital, bringing home-cooked meals, board games and sweet treats.
After three weeks in hospital, I got the green light to continue recovering at home.
A year on from my accident, I’m back on my feet, working as a primary school teacher and hoping to get back on the footy field.
This November I’m even taking part in my first Ironman event, raising money for Movember.
I’ve since been reunited with the first responders who saved my life.
‘Thank you for everything,’ I told them, wrapping them in a hug.
I’ll never take another day for granted!
To support Arden’s Ironman visit movember.com/m/15531174?mc=1
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