Spoiler Alert: I Lived

Death by an Antique Murano Chandelier: An Obituary Fit for The Antiques Diva (But Not Today)

and

Jul 13, 2025

If you’ve been following me on social media—@tomaclarkhaines or @theantiquesdiva—you might have noticed I have been silent this past month. I’d like to say I was on a purposeful social media detox… But in reality, I just couldn’t easily type and haven´t been feeling well.

Between navigating Trump’s tariffs and—wait for it—uhm, cutting off my thumb on a broken Murano chandelier, life has been turbulent.

Miraculously, my Russian handyman was onsite when it happened. And this man has seen some things.

While I stood there holding my thumb and hand together, he calmly fashioned a tourniquet out of electrical tape on my forearm to stop the squirting blood spraypainting my driveway.

Then he poured half a bottle of tequila (from his toolbox!) over my hand, cracked a tray to set my thumb on ice—and offered me a margarita. His wife is Mexican.

While I was eerily calm—read as: in shock—he drank the rest of the bottle, offering me a swig now and then as we waited 45 minutes for an ambulance to arrive at my house in the Tuscan hills.

It happened at the #ChiantiClubHouse, my home in Tuscany—on a dirt road, in the middle of an olive grove, nestled among vineyards nearly an hour south of Florence.

Once the ambulance finally made it to my dirt road, it flew past my house.

But my 8-year-old English neighbor Angus—like a scene from a film—hopped on his bicycle and chased it.

Sadly, the ambulance was moving too fast. It ended up at the top of my hill, at my friend Laura’s house. (She owns Ancora del Chianti Bed & Breakfast.)

The ambulance crew asked her, “Do you know the Chianti Club House?”

She yelped, “Toma!!”

And raced down the hill in her car.

By the time the drivers arrived, my house looked like a crime scene. Even with the tourniquet, blood was everywhere.

The ambulance drivers were a regular Laurel and Hardy, and of course, they didn´t speak a word of English.

They arrived casa mia to find:
Me.
My partially severed thumb.
My Russian handyman.
The Italian winemaker who lives next door who had come over to see what the commotion was all about.
My English neighbor Emily who happens to be a sommelier.
Her 8-year-old son.
My two cats dancing around stressed by the smells and the scenario.
And an empty bottle of tequila.

It was dramatic. To say the least.

And honestly? If my handyman hadn’t been there, I could have died.

So yes, I’m joking about the whole ordeal (Almost) Death by an Antique Murano Chandelier —but it was terrifying - and it is why I have been awol from substack and social media as of the last month.

Spoiler alert: I lived.

Emergency surgery. Yadda yadda yadda. My thumb is mostly functional again. Fine motor skills are still limited at the moment —but really, did I ever have them? I can’t hook a bra or hold a fork properly in my left hand yet, but the pain is undercontrol.

Thankfully, I’m right-handed and surprisingly adept at doing most things one-handed.

Plus, I am really learning to delegate. I cooked a dinner for 10 with a friend operating as a sous chef doing all the chopping.

Long story short: the doctors say it will fully heal with a little physical therapy—and a lot of patience. The P Word. The bane of my existence. Patience. My least favorite word in the English language.

So what did I learn?

That slowing down isn’t failure—it’s survival.

That help shows up in the most unexpected forms.

That although I was alone in the barn when it happened, that I am not really ever alone. And clearly, it wasn´t my day to die.

That sometimes the most beautiful things—like Murano glass—are also the sharpest. Broken Murano Glass can cut like a surgical knife. It didnt even bleed for the first 30 seconds. Of course then came the plasma.

That I am going to a scar.
And I am a little vain. The thought of my hand looking like a duck foot kind of stresses me out.

That you can be a strong, independent woman… and still need someone to hold your hand (or your thumb).

That you don't always have to do everything yourself.

I’ve been tired. Significant blood loss and trauma to the body will do that to you. I am a diet to rebuild hemoglobin. But—my cats had kittens, and they’ve been keeping me company.

You may not know that I breed British Long Hair kittens every 2 years with the veternarians help. The littlist one is struggling - he needs extra milk - and I have been bottle feeding him.

Sadly I had to miss my Corsica vacation with my colleagues Danielle and Jean Pierre due to my hand but I am still hoping to go to Norway on a cruise with a friend soon.

I have been thinking about what is next for me personally and professionally. I will be annoucing a few cooking course vacations (combined with antiques) scheduled for the end of this year and next year in both Italy and France. #Watchthisspace and email me toma@antiquesdiva.com if you want on the wait list.

I’ll be back to my regular weekly posting schedule starting this week.

Meanwhile you need to know I have a NEW PODCAST and substack - Inspirations from the Silk Road coming this September.

Impressions from the Silk Road: A Scientist. A Tastemaker. A Journey Between Worlds. When Venetian physicist Alessandro Codello bicyled from Venice to China, he captured 100 impressions of the Silk Road. Now, antiques expert Toma Clark Haines brings his journey to English readers—layered with metaphor, memory, and the emotional texture of travel. He Said. She Said. Two voices. One road. A conversation between logic and longing, history and humanity. This isn’t just about where we go—it’s about who we become.

Subscribe to follow the journey.

But In the meantime before my next post, I’d love to know: What questions would you like me to answer in upcoming issues of the Business of Antiques?

XOXO,
Forever,
Toma