The sun was warm that May afternoon, the smell of fresh-cut grass floating in the air. Six-year-old Dawson had just come home from school, his laughter carrying across the yard as he climbed onto his mother’s lap for a ride on the family’s lawn mower. He pointed at dandelions and talked about the clouds, the simple chatter of a child happy to be outside.
And then, in one single moment, everything changed.
His little hand slipped, reaching for balance, and the mower’s blades caught his thumb. The scream that followed tore through the quiet afternoon. His mom slammed the mower to a stop, scooped him up, and saw what no parent ever wants to see.
“Stay with me, baby, stay with me!” she cried, pressing her hand to his bleeding wrist, fumbling for the phone to call 911. Her voice shook as she repeated, “You’re going to be okay. Mommy’s right here.”
Paramedics arrived within minutes, wrapping Dawson’s hand, applying a tourniquet, rushing him into the ambulance. Through tears, his mother whispered over and over: “Hold on, sweetheart. We’re not losing you.”
At the first hospital, doctors shook their heads. The damage was too severe. His thumb was gone, his index and middle fingers mangled, the skin around his wrist stripped away. “We need to get him to Mott Children’s Hospital,” one doctor said firmly. “If anyone can help, it’s the team there.”
Hours later, Dawson arrived at Michigan Medicine’s C.S. Mott Children’s Hospital. That’s where he met Dr. Kevin Chung.
Kneeling down to the frightened little boy’s level, Dr. Chung smiled gently. “Dawson, we’re going to do something amazing,” he said softly. “We’re going to give you a new thumb. It will come from your toe. And with it, you’ll be able to play, to hold, to live like before.”
The words sounded impossible—but they carried hope.
The surgeries began. First, they attached Dawson’s hand to his abdomen so new skin could grow over the exposed bone. For weeks, his tiny hand was pressed against his stomach, an odd and painful sight, but essential for healing. He sat in a wheelchair, watching friends run outside, asking his mom, “Will I ever be able to play again?” She stroked his hair and whispered, “Yes, baby. This is just the beginning.”
Weeks later came the next stage: repairing what they could of his damaged fingers, preparing his hand for the transplant. And finally, the extraordinary moment—the day surgeons removed Dawson’s second toe from his right foot, reshaping it into a new thumb. They connected bone, nerves, tendons, and blood vessels with microscopic precision.
When Dawson first wiggled the new thumb, the room erupted. Nurses clapped. His mother wept. She kissed his forehead and whispered, “You’re my miracle.”
Recovery wasn’t easy. Physical therapy twice a week pushed him to his limits. He practiced holding spoons, zipping jackets, gripping game controllers. Some days he cried in frustration. But other days, his smile returned—especially the first time he used his new thumb to hold his brother’s hand.
Now seven, Dawson is back to playing soccer, running in the yard, laughing with friends. The thumb from his toe doesn’t look the same as the one he lost, but it gives him freedom, strength, and hope. Every time he moves it, every time he grips something new, it’s proof of resilience.
His story reminds us that accidents can take away, but love, medicine, and courage can give back even more. Sometimes, the impossible becomes reality. Sometimes, a toe really can become a thumb.