In a quiet hospital corridor, a young man with bandaged arms and IV lines trailing behind him moved forward one careful step at a time. To a stranger, it might have looked like an ordinary moment of recovery. But for those who understand what Hunter Alexander has endured, it was something far greater—a hard-earned victory in a battle that is far from finished.
Hunter, a 24-year-old lineman, remains under intensive medical care after suffering severe electrical burn injuries to his arm and hand while restoring power. In the first terrifying hours after the accident, doctors feared he might lose the use of his hands—or worse. Today, he is still here. Still walking. Still smiling, even as another major surgery approaches.
Doctors say his pain is being managed with intravenous Tylenol and other high-strength medications. While the immediate crisis has passed, electrical injuries are notoriously complex. Surgeons have already removed sections of damaged muscle from his left forearm and tissue from his right thumb to halt the spread of tissue death.
Looking at recent photos of Hunter, it’s difficult to reconcile them with how close he came to losing everything.
And yet, amid IV lines, dressings, and constant monitoring, Hunter experienced a day that may seem small to the outside world—but means everything after trauma.
He stood on his own. He walked the hospital halls. He even made a careful loop outside, feeling fresh air on his face for the first time since the accident. The pain was still there. The injuries were still real. But so was his determination.
For a brief moment, when several fellow linemen came to visit, Hunter looked like himself again—not a patient defined by burns and surgeries, but a young man who climbed into a bucket truck to bring power back to strangers, paying a life-altering price for doing his job.
“He smiled,” his family shared. “And for a second, everything felt normal.”
His father, Daren Alexander, has remained by his side throughout the ordeal, marking each small milestone with equal parts gratitude and concern. Occupational therapists have begun gently checking Hunter’s fingers and introducing early exercises as doctors continue their fight to preserve function. Every movement matters. Every response is closely watched.
One quiet but meaningful step forward came when Hunter’s central line was removed—a sign his condition has stabilized enough to reduce invasive monitoring. In a recovery measured in inches, it was a moment worth celebrating.
Hunter even found the strength to give a heartfelt shoutout to his nurse, Megan, whose steady care helped carry him through the darkest moments. It was a reminder that even in pain, gratitude still finds a way to surface.
But the road ahead remains daunting.
A fourth surgery is scheduled for tomorrow. Surgeons will perform another irrigation and debridement, carefully cleaning damaged areas to prevent infection and assess what tissue can be saved. Skin grafting may follow—a sign of progress, but one that carries new challenges.
Electrocution injuries are unpredictable. Damage often continues beneath the surface long after the initial shock, forcing surgeons to balance aggressive treatment with careful preservation. Every decision carries weight. Every operation may shape the rest of Hunter’s life.
“This fight isn’t over,” his family says. “Not even close.”
Still, days like today matter.
After injuries that could have taken his arms, his future—even his life—Hunter remains standing. Still walking hospital corridors, bandages wrapped tight. Still pushing forward through relentless pain. Still showing the quiet resilience that defined him long before this accident.
As Wednesday’s surgery approaches, loved ones are asking for prayers—for healing, for steady hands in the operating room, and for strength through the long recovery ahead. The emotional toll of repeated surgeries and uncertainty weighs heavily, even on the strongest hearts.
Hunter’s story is more than survival. It is about the unseen cost carried by those who work dangerous jobs to keep communities running. It is about families who wait in hospital rooms, measuring hope in heartbeats and hallway walks. And it is about the fragile line between loss and recovery—a line Hunter continues to walk with courage.
Tonight, as he prepares for surgery number four, one simple question remains:
What would you want Hunter to know as he keeps fighting forward?