"It doesn't always happen to the other guy. You might not be as lucky as I was."

Chuck Teigen, who farmed near Rugby, North Dakota, is a soft-spoken man. In other circumstances, you probably wouldn't see him speaking before school groups, audiences of hundreds, or even on the Oprah Show. The horrific events of 20 July 1998 changed Chuck's life, and the lives of all those close to him. Now he's a man with several missions: farm safety, coping with disaster, and reminding people to take time for each other.

The facts are stark. While mowing a ditch, Chuck lost his balance as his tractor clipped a culvert, and fell in front of the sickle bar on his mower. His right arm was severed at the wrist, and his left arm diagonally from his wrist up was left dangling by a shred. His right leg below the knee was broken and mangled.

Chuck was alone when the accident happened. "I had almost finished, and I told my son Patrick he could go home." He takes comfort that he has no one to blame for what happened except himself. "My old tractor needed a new seat. It would have cost $200, and I decided not to spend the money."

Chuck had recently bought a used mower, and was using it for the second time. As he hit the culvert, half-standing because of the bad seat, he lost his balance. In that split second, he didn't know if he could trust the power takeoff shield on the unfamiliar equipment. "I thought I could jump over the cutter bar. Later, the lady who sold me the mower told me that the shield was new. It would have protected me, if I had relied on it. I just didn't know my equipment."

Chuck was also in a hurry. He had worked all day at his job as Certified Nursing Assistant in the local hospital's Alzheimer unit, and wanted to pack in some farming before dark. "I was in too much of a hurry."

An EMT and First Responder, Chuck knew what to do, and he also knew how deadly serious his injuries were. He stayed conscious through the whole ordeal, and he prayed. "'God, I need help,' I prayed. I knew I could bleed to death or die of shock."

The tractor and mower went on down the ditch. Chuck lay flat on his back to keep shock from setting in. His leg was massively damaged, but there was no arterial bleeding because it was bent back in an unnatural way, kinking the artery like a garden hose. His real fear was his right wrist, spouting blood six feet in the air. As he lay there and waited for the tractor to stall, the bleeding slowed and quit.

When the tractor stopped and it was quiet, he started to shout. On their nearby farm, Andy and DeAnne Fedje heard him, but weren't sure what they were hearing. Andy and his son Jason, age 9, jumped in the pickup to investigate. "I guess it was about ten minutes after the accident," Chuck remembers. "I'm not sure, because I didn't have a wrist left for my watch."

As much as he needed their help, Chuck was dismayed that young Jason saw his terrible injuries. "It was one of his biggest concerns," Chuck's wife Joyce says. "After his surgery, he called Jason from the hospital and thanked him for his help." DeAnne Fedje told the Teigens later that when they finally came home, their other son Chris, age 7, came down the hall, his pockets bulging with Bandaids. "He told DeAnne that he was on his way to help Chuck," Joyce says. "Caring starts so young."

Lying in the ditch, but conscious, calm and in control, Chuck told Andy to call the sheriff in Rugby rather than 911, which on Andy's cell phone could have zoned into another area and wasted precious minutes. "I told him to tell them it was a triple amputation, and to get the helicopter in the air from Minot. I can't really take any credit for this. I felt a peaceful power."

On Chuck's advice, Andy raced home for sheets and ice and dropped off Jason. DeAnne returned with him, carrying a new container for the severed hand they had to find. Desperate for ice, she called nearby neighbors. She learned that they had been enjoying a family party and, to her relief, had a whole cooler of ice.

About this time, Joyce arrived on a four-wheeler. She had heard a strange sound-"like a wounded animal''--and set off to locate it. When she first saw Chuck, sitting up in the ditch, Joyce wasn't immediately aware of his injuries. When she got a good look at him, Joyce credits her husband with keeping her calm. "His first words to me were, 'Honey, we're out of farming!' Then he told me to find his hand."

DeAnne found the hand, wrapped it in a sheet, and packed it in ice. About this time, the paramedics from Rugby arrived, followed shortly by the ambulance. Back home, Patrick had answered the emergency call. "The dispatcher told him there had been a bad accident in our area, and asked if Chuck could respond," Joyce says. "They didn't know it was Chuck." Patrick immediately drove to alert his dad, and came across the horror of his own father so badly injured.

"We got the call from our sons on our two-way radio," says Rita Tiegen, Chuck's sister-in-law. Jim Teigen, a Dakota Growers shareholder, is Chuck's older brother. "I've never seen such a look on Jim's face before. He paled immediately, then drove like a madman," she says.

Jim was sure the culprit was the old tractor. "I figured it had overturned, and Chuck was under it, so I was looking for the tractor."

They came to the cluster of people and cars, and ran from the pickup. "I never did get close to Chuck," Rita says. "He told the paramedics, 'Keep Rita away. She'll faint.'" All the while the paramedics and ambulance crew were preparing Chuck for transport, he kept giving his brother instructions about spraying the field for weeds, and other chores he had planned for the next few days

Joyce's worst moment came when the ambulance headed for Highway 2, where the helicopter from Minot's Trinity Hospital had landed. "That was the hardest. He was out of sight, and I couldn't fix it or take care of him." Joyce and Patrick, driven by Jim, made a fast trip to Minot.

Trinity's ER crew worked to stabilize Chuck, and sent a call to Minneapolis to find the most appropriate hospital to handle trauma of the magnitude that Chuck's injuries presented. Fairview-University Hospital, a tertiary-care teaching hospital, responded. Matthew Putnam, M.D., orthopedic microsurgeon on staff, called a half dozen surgeons and had the largest OR prepared with microscopes. When Chuck arrived, seven surgeons, 30 nurses, and one anesthesiologist went right to work. Ten and a half hours of surgery followed.

"From the time Andy found me, I never thought of death," Chuck says. Everyone else did, though, including Dr. Putnam. "That next morning, Dr. Putnam told me everything he had done. He also told me that they were taking me back to surgery on Friday to change the dressing on my leg. He told me that with all the ground-in dirt and grass in my leg, he was pretty sure he'd be amputating it at the right knee."

It was grim news. "The neighbors started a prayer chain that Monday night of the accident," Joyce says. "DeAnne called the neighbors and our friends at St. Anselm's and it was unceasing prayer."

On Friday morning in the OR, Dr. Putnam removed the bandages and saw, to his amazement and relief, that Chuck's leg was pink and clean, with no sign of infection. "He had put antibiotic beads in there during the first surgery, and they worked," Chuck says. "Everyone on that medical team told me later that they knew that God was watching over all of us. Nice to know they felt that way, too."

Amazingly, Chuck was out of the hospital three weeks after his accident, and at home in a hospital bed in the living room. In a farming tradition as time-honored as it is touching, Jim and the neighbors harvested Chuck's crops, did the haying, and took care of his livestock. Knowing how busy Jim was, the neighbors helped him, too. "They were such a help to us all," Jim says.

Over thirty trips to Minnesota and four more surgeries later, Chuck is now able to drive his car, and perform large motor skills. The more intricate movements are beyond his abilities now and he doesn't plan to farm again. As the nerves in his right arm have begun their slow regrowth, Chuck feels phantom pains. "Sometimes it feels like a vice is squeezing my hand, and at other times, like a dead weight at the end of my arm." Right now he has about 10 percent motion in his right hand, and 30 percent motion in his left hand. His right leg has a rod inserted for stabilization, and he walks with hardly a limp.

As he considered his plans for the rest of his life, one taken up so totally with farming and livestock, Chuck had his own personal revelation about quitting a way of life he loves. "I tell farm groups that there is life after farming. Because you can't make it farming, whether because of accident or the economy, that doesn't mean you're a failure. Where would we be if our ancestors in Norway or Germany hadn't quit back there and started over here? And we honor them for doing that." Joyce has her own take on the subject. "I married the farmer, not the farm."

This year, Chuck has been speaking in classrooms, to youth groups, farming associations, to anyone who will listen, about farm safety. "I tell farmers to slow down and not do anything automatically," he says. "They need to know the consequences, and listen to this advice. Kids really identify with this, when I speak to them."

He remembers one presentation where a farmer told him about an experience he had while baling weeds. "The baler jammed and he was kicking it to free it. He said that his son ran up with a fence post and handed it to him. 'Dad, use this to push it in. It's safer,' his boy told him. Kids are concerned about their parents."

Chuck also reminds his audiences to thank their caregivers. "I always cry at this point," he confesses with a little smile. "There I was in the hospital, thanking all the doctors and nurses, and then I realized that I hadn't thanked Joyce or my own kids for their support and help. I mean, Joyce never left my side. I want children and adults to know that it's okay to tell people you love them. In fact, I give everyone that homework assignment."

No one--not Chuck or Joyce and their three children, or Jim, Rita and their children-is the same after the events of July 20, 1998. Chuck continues his recovery, and he and Joyce have to explore options beyond farming. Even more aware now of the importance of prompt medical attention in a rural setting, Rita took an EMT course last winter and is now a First Responder.

While nothing seems the same, the things that are most important to the Teigens have never changed: the love of family members for each other, faith in a merciful God, and strength in neighbors. They've added one more, an urgent warning: Be careful out there. Farming is dangerous.