

36 hours after that I was at Ottawa General Hospital watching as a surgeon stripped skin and sliced blisters from my fingers. For the next 2 weeks I received daily treatment in a hyperbaric-oxygen chamber.
Back in England I allowed the damaged tissue to slowly heal in readiness for the end-knuckles of the thumb and each finger to be amputated. I took penicillin for 4 months to keep gangrene out of the open cracks, where the damaged but live flesh met the dead and blackened finger-ends.
By the end of June I was able to saw the dead finger-ends off with a fret-saw. This helped the new stump areas heal in readiness for final surgery by an expert plastic surgeon.
Back in England

I suppose, over 26 years of polar travel, the frostbite odds were always narrowing. This time they caught up with me, which was a shame because everything was looking good, the gear was excellent and I felt fit for the job.
There is of course, never any point in crying over spilt milk - the key is to learn from failures and then to keep going.

Part 5