By Alex Fees, KSDK-TV, June 30, 3006

It's a story Dorman Bazzell, 45, and his daughter, Abbie, 20, will be talking about for the rest of their lives.

On May 19, Dorman was working in his garage on a wood working project, while his daughter slept in. His wife and other child were out.

Suddenly, Abbie was awakened by the screams of her father.

"I hear him," said Abbie, "and I run up the stairs, and see him standing there, holding, well, what was left of his arm. And I’m just like, ''Oh my gosh!''"

Abbie was not prepared for what she saw. While using a circular saw, Dorman had accidentally severed his left hand and wrist. While Dorman was in the atrium, the appendage remained on the floor, in the corner of the garage.

Dorman described what happened.

"My left hand is here, holding down on the piece of wood. And I'm cutting, this way, away from my hand. The saw kicks back. When the saw kicks back, I pushed forward, and I think when I pushed forward, my left hand came across, this way, in front of the saw," he recalled.

"When an accident like this, occurs," said Bazzell, "there's almost a disbelief that it, actually, happened. Not to be too graphic, but I’m looking at my arm, and realizing my hand is over here, and I’m thinking, ''Well, that’s really weird, how did that happen?'' Then there's the next second, where you immediately grab it, you realize what has happened."

Abbie is studying nursing at Maryville University. As a result of her studies, she knew to put a tourniquet on her father's forearm, and have him lay on his back, with his hands and feet, in the air.

The hand was another question.

"I actually could not go, and pick up the hand, myself, in the garage," said Abbie. "He got up and grabbed it, for me. I grabbed the hand, and placed it in the bag, and then placed that in the ice."

By that time, Abbie was also on the phone with 911 technicians.

"When I called 911, they were like, ''You need to put it in a bag," she said. "And so I ran upstairs into my Mom’s room, grabbed her belt, put on a tourniquet. Then I ran in, grabbed an ice tray, ripped it out of the freezer, put it in this huge bucket, and just grabbed the hand, and put it in there."

Dr. Keith Brandt is a plastic and reconstructive surgeon at Barnes-Jewish Hospital and Washington University School of Medicine. He was part of a team the reattached Bazzell's hand, in a ten-hour operation.

Brandt was impressed with Abbie's quick thinking.

"It was very important. We are very proud of her for thinking. There is a limited amount of time, we have, to get these amputated parts, back on. And until the blood supply is restored, components are dying. So if you put it in a protective bag, and put that bag on slush ice, it'll help slow down the dying process," the doctor explained.

Brandt discussed the ten-hour operation, which he described as micro-surgical.

"Well, some of the components can be very straightforward, reattach the bones, and reattach the tendons. But the arteries, nerves, and veins are very small structures, and need to be put back together, very gingerly, so that’s done under a microscope," the doctor said.

Dr. Brandt said the early signs of recovery are good. He was asked how common a procedure like this is.

Brandt said, "A total hand replacement is actually very rare. We see one or two, a year. The fact that we were able to get the hand back on, and he has ten pink fingers, today, is a very good sign. Now he'll have to go through a lot of rehabilitation, because there were 24 tendons that had to be repaired."

He continued, "The nerves were injured, and they will have to regenerate back to the hand, and to the fingers, and that’ll actually take a matter of months, for that to occur."

"We hope that this will be what we call a ''helping hand,'' something that he can hold, and manipulate objects, while he uses his better hand to work on the object, while he's holding it with his injured hand," Dr. Brandt said.

NewsChannel 5 cameras went along, when Dorman went to physical therapy. That took place at the Milliken Hand Rehabilitation Center at Washington University.

There, we met occupational therapist Stacie Luter.

Luter said, "I feel like Dorman’s prognosis is very good, because of his motivation. And I told him this, from day-1. I’m really intrigued to work with him, because he comes in with goals, and says, ''This is what I want to be able to do.'' And because of that, he’ll do well."

Bazzell talks much, at physical therapy, about returning to his former hobbies of biking, running, and guitar playing. Luter was asked if she expects him to have success, in that regard.

"Absolutely," said Luter, "I think he’ll be playing the guitar, he’ll be gripping, he’ll be riding a bike, he’ll be pinching, and he’ll be doing anything and everything that he needs to."

For right now, though, Bazzell is in the early stages of rehab. He can "pinch," or at least make his thumb and index finger touch. But it’s the beginning of a new hobby, as a left-handed guitar player.

When he strummed the guitar strings, an amateurish, awkward sound emanated, that, clearly, Bazzell is not accustomed to. He reacted to mock applause, in the room.

Still, Dorman Bazzell is a determined man. He spoke of his career, as a computer consultant.

"I’ve learned to hunt and peck for keys, pretty good, right now. But in one year, I will be playing guitar, again, with this hand, at some level. I will be typing, with this hand, at some level. I will be riding my bike, again. I will be doing the things that I like to do."

"I think the only thing I can say to people who have prayed for me and supported me, is this-- sit tight. I’ll show you what can be done, in a year. You’ll be happy you supported me.

Meanwhile, Dorman’s daughter, Abbie, is receiving rewards for her actions. First of all, she just began a job at BJC, working on the floor where Dorman was patient.

"When he came home," said Abbie, "they said they were wanting to offer me a job, because of how well I took care of him."

Abbie is currently hoping to go into pediatric nursing. She was asked if she thought she could handle trauma.

"I do," said Abbie. "They’ve asked me to go into trauma, because they’ve said not a lot of people could have done that."

Abbie also wears a piece of jewelry around her neck, which serves as a token of her father’s appreciation. The necklace reads, "My Gentle Healer."

She received it, recently, upon her father’s return from a doctor’s appointment.

Abbie said, "When we came home, he gave it to me. As I opened up the bag, and it said, ''My Gentle Healer,'' it just... completely... I just broke down. It was like... the amazing thing I was able to do for my father, just really brought a tear to my eye. And that fact that I am his gentle healer, makes it, just... even better."

"Guts... just shear guts," said Dorman, when asked how he accounts for his daughter’s actions. "Abbie’s a pretty independent, strong-headed person. Abbie was here, and cared for me. She got me stabilized, and got me through that initial event."

It’s an event Dorman and his gentle healer will be talking about, for the rest of their lives.