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Hello There!
Amputee Stories Part Two
Antony Smith
Hi!, Well here goes. I am a 24 year old amputee of about 6 months. I was injured in a motorcycle accident by a woman who failed to yield at stop sign. Well actually she stopped (why she even bothered I still don't know) then without so much as a glance to the left or right and with impeccable timing, floored the gas pedal just as I entered the intersection. Not a damn thing I could do. After the impact I took a little flight through the air and landed on my head (good thing I had that 300$ helmet on). Skidded abit on that with a few bounces then slid on my left shoulder abit (good thing I had that 500$ leather jacket). Finally when I came to a stop I was MAD AS HELL (If I had a gun probably would have shot whomever had hit me on sight). When I went to get up I was told to stay down by a man who witnessed the accident because I might have a back injury.
Thats when I noticed the strange sensation coming from somewhere down my left leg. After that all kinds of people showed up. I told one of them to call my wife (not even married a year yet). After all she was only about 1/3 of a mile away because I had just left for work. She showed up just after they loaded me on the ambulance. Luckily for me the nearest hospital was 1/2 mile away. Talk about your quick response time. They immediatley took me to Shock Trauma in Baltimore (A learning hospital). For the next two weeks I became the Human guinea pig. Finally when parts of my foot were turning funny shade of green and my fever was still nearing 106 degrees they decided we had better amputate before he dies. Did I mention the pain of them trying to "save the foot" was pure hell three times a day like clockwork. Even with all that Morphine and several other pain medications having them rip off muscle and skin tissue was very painful. The first day the Orthopedic told me 80% chance of losing the foot. After about a week I had had enough but they hadn't they were going to save that foot even if it killed me.
To tell you the truth I didn't want the amputation but when they told me they were going to have to do it I was scared, relieved, angry, and about 100 other emotions all at once. My wife who was with me every day all day saw to it that I got to talk to the amputee liason there. Her name is Dee and she was very helpful and imformative (Her husband is an amputee). She saw to it that I got to talk to Doug Burguine, the prothetist who works out of the hospital, He was very helpful as well. The information I had recieved from these two people was very helpful. Suddenly the idea of the amputation was not as bad as laying there in pain any longer. The surgeon who did the amputation did some really good work. I was no longer in pain untill I got home, when the morphine wore off then the percoset ran out and the healing began.
Still the pain was not as bad as having the foot like it was. Then I just layed there awhile (weeks) healing. Thats how I got this computer life insurance gave me 8000$ for losing the leg (how nice of them) which paid the bills and bought me this computer (I should gone for the gold and spent a whole lot more) After Doug(the prothetist finally got me fitted) I headed back to work Part time at first and within about a month I was full time again. I am a printers apprentice so I get to load lots of paper into presses, climb all over the presses, and do general acrobatics, all day long while I am on my feet. Boy am I tired when I get home (wife doesn't like this). I am doing okay with it now but buisness is slow, don't know what I am going to do when they want me there 12 hours a day 8 is definitly enough .
Well thats about it I guess. I am your typical victim of a motorcycle accident who has lived and recieved the dreaded amputation but I am still alive and trying to keep my life pieced together long enough to get into college (so I can get the proverbial better job) This isn't as easy as it looks. Takes a lot of patience and determination on both my and my wifes part (sometimes she has trouble with this) (ow! she hit me) (see what I mean). For a LBK of 6 months I think I have done pretty good but the future scares the hell out of me. Now how much was that brand new motorcycle I wanted????
Tim Cottrell
I am a LHD as a result of being crushed under a gravel truck whilst cycling to a meeting Aug/94. In Nov/94, after I had been moved from ICU to the regular ward of the hospital, the doctor who had coordinated the preparation of an emergency operating team as I was rushed to the hospital in the ambulance came up to my room to talk with me. Essentially, he came to ask me why I survived. He told me that when I came in they took a look and all thought: "OK we'll do what we can, but this guy's a write-off." Needless to say I put the kibosh on that thought, although it took I don't know how many trips to the O.R. every day for two weeks and then every other day for the 3rd, and 42 units of blood. (As an aside, as you can see from my e-mail address, I work for the B.C. government. A week after the accident word went out that the Red Cross needed more blood. A friend of mine in government sent out an e-mail asking people to help me out and donate blood, and over 300 people answered the call. I am still incredibly moved by that.)
I came out of a drug coma about 5 weeks after the accident, and shortly thereafter the MRP (Most Responsible Physician) of my case told me that the main nerve for my left leg (the sciatic) was toast, and that I had the choice of keeping a useless leg and having significant skin and muscle grafts taken from my back and shoulder to patch the gaping holes around my hip, or lose the leg and use its skin to re-construct my left buttock. Even in my drug stupor the choice seemed obvious, and I told them to take the leg (which was causing me nothing but pain anyway). I have never regretted that decision.
But I digress. That emergency room doctor asked if I was religious, to which I answered a firm and definite NO. In fact, one of the social workers assigned to my case told me, just before I went in for 8 hrs. of surgery to amputate the leg, that (whether or not I wanted to hear it) "God was with me", which really upset me. It was probably one of the worst things anyone could say to me, because it made me think that my surviving this operation (which was still not out of the question even 9 weeks after the accident) was out of my hands, and in those of some arbitrary deity whose track record with humanity to date has been nothing short of abysmal (profoundly wretched in the way only an omnipotent being could be). I still get steamed when I think about it today. Christ!
The reason I survived, to me, is that I had been lucky (ironically) to have been diagnosed with seminoma (the same type of cancer that ballplayer John Kruk had) a year earlier, and while that type of cancer has the highest recovery rate, it still carries with it tremendous trauma. While I was on the wait list to get radiotherapy, I reviewed and re-assessed my life many times, and came each time to the conclusion that I would not change a thing because it all got me to where I am now: the world's lovliest and most thoughtful woman for a spouse and the two most wonderful kids one could imagine. To me, these are things that aren't just worth living for, they are reasons to fight to live, with every fibre of my being.
I've a good friend whose job has recently taken a turn for the worse, and he has looked back over the last ten years he has spent to get him there, and decided it has been a waste. If this had been me, I probably wouldn't have survived that accident.
Greg Johnson
I am a RAK since 1968 when the land mine I was standing on had the poor manners to make itself known. I am married (going on 27 years) with two grown (?) boys. For those not into doing the math, We were married 6 months after I left the army. My wife and I were engaged prior to my going to Viet Nam and she saw no reason why my amputation should change our plans. As I recall we did discuss it though. I gave her an out if she wanted. One of her families' friend did counsel her against marring me as he thought that when I got older she would have to take the trash out. 27 years later, I'm still taking out the trash. For the past 25 years, I have beeen employed at Vandenberg AFB, playing with missiles. (Thank goodness for the hang fire last week or I never could have made it thru all the mail). Teaching is a hobby of mine, I have been teaching night classes at the local college for the past 12 years.
David Grunwald
I've been a subscriber to the list since shortly after the list began in October 1994, but this is my first posting. I don't pretend to have much wisdom or advice, but what the hay, you never know.
I am a writer who has written infrequently on disability issues. While in the Peace Corps in Sierra Leone in 1965 I was in a Mobylette accident and banged up my right knee a bit. The following year, after completing my two years as a history teacher at Sierra Leone Grammar in Freetown, I was drafted and wound up a medic. While at Fort Sam my knee started to stiffen, but when I went on sick call all I got was APC, so, being young and foolish, I decided the best thing was just to put up with it and get out of there. Fortunately, I was posted to the other war, the Cold War in Germany, and found myself a medic attached to an artillary unit in Baumholder. Well, my knee wasn't getting better, so while on manuevers in Graffenwher (sp ?) I went on sick call again. I was told I had arthritis and was given a couple of hundred APC's by a Chinese doctor. Back in Baumholder, I went on sick call again. This time I was seen by an orthopod and was put in hospital right away. A month later, I was medevaced to Letterman in San Francisco. I had a bone tumor, but it turned out to be benign and within a few months I was back to being a TAB, assigned to the hospital paper, The Fog Horn, writing on everything from the hospital laundry to three-track skiing. But at the same time I had an education in how the Army treated its patients, particularly those wounded in Vietnam, who came home missing an arm or a leg. The Army, by in large, did its best, the medical care often first-rate, but the tendency was to treat the ailment, the wound, the injury, and not the patient. People tended to fall through the cracks and were left to shift for themselves. (And from reading between the lines that still appears to be the way the medical community deals with its patients.)
About fifteen years ago or so I wrote a piece about my experiences at Letterman, which was well received by the editors at Playboy and elsewhere, but was felt to be too raw to be published. Och well, when I can locate a copy -- we recently moved, so it will take some time -- maybe I'll scan it in and post it.
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this page was last updated12/22/04
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