Two weeks ago, machines were breathing for him.
Today, he’s talking about going home.
Let that sink in.
SHREVEPORT, La. — Fourteen days.
That’s all it’s been.
Fourteen days since injured lineman Hunter Alexander was on a ventilator, fighting to survive a catastrophic electrical injury that nearly ended his life.
Fourteen days since his family didn’t know if they would ever hear his voice again.
And now?
He’s talking about going home.
The shift feels almost unreal.
A Milestone No One Dared to Say Out Loud
This morning, Hunter’s dad shared an update that hit supporters like a wave of relief:
Doctors are adjusting Hunter’s pain medications — not because his condition is worsening, but because they’re preparing him to manage pain outside the hospital.
Outside.
The word carries weight.
Just two weeks ago, conversations revolved around survival, stabilization, and whether his body could withstand the trauma.
Today, the focus is transitioning toward discharge planning.
It’s a milestone that once felt impossible.
“I was sitting in the cafeteria this morning looking at pictures,” his dad wrote.
“A lot has happened in two weeks. Some truly miraculous changes. Lots of prayers heard and answered.”
Those words don’t come lightly from a father who has stood beside ICU monitors, watched surgical doors close, and braced for outcomes no parent should ever face.
From Critical to Courageous
When Hunter was first admitted after his near-electrocution during the ice storm, the outlook was uncertain at best.
Electrical trauma of that magnitude doesn’t just burn — it devastates muscle, nerves, and blood vessels in ways that unfold over days and weeks.
He required a ventilator.
He endured multiple surgeries.
His hands and arms became the center of a battle to preserve tissue and prevent amputation.
There were moments when the future felt narrow.
Moments when hope felt fragile.
And yet, here he stands — alive, alert, and beginning to imagine life beyond hospital walls.
The Fight Isn’t Over — But It’s Moving Forward
No one is pretending the hard part is finished.
Surgery number six is expected next week.
Skin grafting is likely.
Healing will be slow, painful, and demanding.
The nerve pain hasn’t disappeared.
The road ahead is still steep.
But something fundamental has changed.
The fight is no longer about whether he will survive.
It’s about how he will rebuild.
And that shift alone is monumental.
All His Limbs. All His Grit.
Right now, one truth towers above everything else:
Hunter survived.
And as of today, he still has all his limbs.
For a man who faced the terrifying possibility of losing his hands — the very tools of his trade, the symbols of his independence — that fact carries enormous emotional weight.
It doesn’t guarantee the future.
But it represents a victory that once seemed uncertain.
Two Weeks That Changed Everything
It’s hard to comprehend how quickly life can shift.
Two weeks ago:
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A ventilator was doing the breathing.
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Survival was the only goal.
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Doctors were fighting minute by minute.
Today:
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Pain medication is being adjusted for outpatient life.
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Discharge plans are being discussed.
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The conversation includes “home.”
The same hospital walls that once held fear now hold cautious excitement.
And the air feels different.
A Father Reflecting on the Miracle
Hunter’s dad captured the emotional weight of this transformation in a way no headline could:
Looking back at photos from just days ago, he saw a story that unfolded faster than anyone expected.
Some moments were terrifying.
Some moments felt divine.
But all of them led here — to a young man who beat odds that once loomed over him like a storm cloud.
The Next Chapter Begins
Going home doesn’t mean healed.
It means transitioning.
It means managing pain differently.
It means more surgeries.
More appointments.
More rehabilitation.
It means learning to navigate a body that has been through war.
But it also means something powerful:
It means the hospital is no longer the only battlefield.
Hunter’s next chapter will be written outside ICU walls.
Outside operating rooms.
Outside constant monitor alarms.
And that alone feels like a miracle.
A Community That Carried Him Here
This moment didn’t happen in isolation.
It happened with:
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Doctors who refused to give up.
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Nurses who watched every pulse.
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Family members who prayed through exhaustion.
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Linemen brothers who showed up relentlessly.
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Strangers who sent messages, meals, and encouragement.
It happened because hope was stubborn.
And so was Hunter.
The Question Now
As Hunter prepares to take this massive step forward, his family has one simple request:
Keep him lifted.
Because home is the beginning of a different kind of challenge.
And the surgeries aren’t done yet.
The pain isn’t done yet.
The rebuilding has just begun.
👉 What do you want Hunter to know as he takes this huge step forward?
What would you tell a man who survived the unimaginable and is now walking toward a future he once wasn’t sure he’d see?
Drop your words below.
Because this isn’t just discharge planning.
It’s a second chance.
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