So I go down and cut the power (220V, of course) and proceed to pull the oven apart, getting (eventually) to the fan and detaching it. Many, many sharp edges and exposed electrical terminals in there.
Ok. So I "fix" the fan (this involved wrapping a piece of tape around the shaft to hold the plastic fan blade assembly in place), replace it, put everything back, button it all up, and power it up from the basement. Everything works. I'm a hero.
For about three days.
Then the fan starts to make the same noise again.
Back to the basement, cut the juice. Pull it apart. Repeat every step. More tape. Motor re-install. Put things back. Button up. Power up. Noise fixed.
This time the fix lasted about a week. Then... there's the noise again.
This time I'm peeved. No, I'm pissed. This is a key component of the story.
Go get my tools. Pull the damn thing apart. Go in to grab that damn fan... with the 220V still on.
Because I was so emotional, I forgot the crucial step of turning off the power.
I immediately contact two hot terminals. One contact point was on my left forearm, the other was on the back of my right wrist. I could see a flash. I knew I was a conductor. I knew I was in trouble. I saw my field of view begin to shrink, just like they say in textbooks. It was like my peripheral vision was going black, and the hole through which I was looking at my arms shoved into the oven was getting smaller and smaller. I didn't seem to be able to get my arms to pull out of the oven.
Finally, I gave a big yell, and with all my might (it seemed) pushed my way back away from the wall-mounted oven.
Burns on the back of my hand, and more burns - and a gash - on my left forearm. My wife is crying, and I'm shaking like a leaf.
I hired someone to work on the oven the next day, and have done so every time since.
Emotions. Emotions can get you killed.
I’m not even sharing my pathetic story after yours. :-)
Oh wow, that was scary just hearing about it!
Very true on that, almost tunnel vision.
Was working on a piece of equipment *hot* when the ground/return opened up.
Power circuit was being completed through me by the heat gun I was holding in the other hand.
Walked back away from the workbench until the heat gun unplugged breaking the circuit.
Could NOT let go of either the equipment or heat gun.
Good learning experience about just relying on one ground when working on something hot. :)
Similar story:
I was working on an amateur radio amplifier back in 1992. Unplugged it from the 220v power source but forgot to discharge the high voltage capacitors before working on it.
Took the covers off of it and reached inside to start cleaning up a blown (up) capacitor that made a big mess inside the amplifier.
My arm barely touched one of the coils in the amplifier. I remember my entire body "seizing up" then waking up some time later across the room with a bump on my head and a hole in the plaster (yes, plaster!) where my head hit and went through to the plaster lathing.
That's pretty much all I remember about the entire incident, although I think I did see a white flash. Not sure, but think I did.
Fast forward to today: I have yet another amateur radio amplifier (2,000 Watts) sitting on the bench that needs some work. It's been unplugged for two days now with the power switch turned on to drain the caps. I think I'll wait another day or two before reaching in and ..........
Got my finger and a plug into a socket when I was a kid in the fifties. My right arm stiffened and my teeth started grinding. The old man knocked me out of the socket with a wicker basket. Funny thing was I watched my father get thrown against the wall when he put his hand in an old Fada TV. Must have contacted a capacitor.
The man who saved my life at a critical time and gave me a job as an apprentice electrician, was electrocuted in front of me while trying to do something I was having trouble with, in a concrete bunker of a pumping station lined with 440 volt distribution boxes.
We measure it at 480 vac. It was like you could almost hear it. The electricity bridged an airgap to use him as a conductor until his legs gave way and he slumped away from the power.
He left behind a wife and four boys and me, devastated with my shame and lasting guilt. It should have been me.
He saved me from dying a young death, like that of several of my friends, but I couldn't/didn't save him. I couldn't get him off the electricity and I couldn't revive him with CPR.
If he hadn't saved me, maybe that husband and father, that truly great, selfless man, would still be here instead of me, a worthless, wretched, pathetic mess.
The rest of my close calls were done unto me, with little or no help on my part. Doing a quick count, the numbers look like I have been one of fate's favorite targets.
The last few years have been a trials and tribulations period and I've been trying to keep to myself lately until it moves on. Fortunately, the Son shines behind those dark clouds and stormy skies are clearing.