Post-Traumatic Growth

There was blood everywhere. It poured from the mangled wound, raw and filthy, speckled with bits of plant matter. Throbbing pain. Shock. Pins and needles. My legs and back were covered in sandburs. The air smelled of iron, freshly-cut grass, and engine exhaust. There was sweat in my eyes. Is this a dream? Wake up. It wasn’t a dream. I wasn’t asleep. A puddle had formed in my gutted shoe and was spilling out to create a strange crimson mud. How did this happen? I had tripped and fallen backwards. Yes, but what tripped me? Shoelaces? No. The brick planter? Yes, that was it. Blood beaded and trailed from the abrasion left by the mortar as it raked down the back of my leg during my fall. That was the fulcrum. My leg was a seesaw with far too much weight on one end. The other end, my left foot, had shot into the spinning blade. Wait, how? Didn’t I push the mower away? No, the mower was pushed at the wrong angle and lifted, exposing the blade. It only took a second. It was an accident. The engine didn’t have enough time to stop before… that unforgettable chopping sound. Did I deserve this? No… I don’t know. Why did this happen to me? Karma? Stop. Still bleeding! Think! Only five seconds had passed. Then came the reactionary howl and cry for help.

Backstory

Over a couple of years, I had saved money so I could return to school and finally finish my undergrad. I changed universities looking for a fresh start and I felt like things were going pretty smoothly until a month into my first semester back. After completing that semester’s first chemistry exam, I needed to blow off some steam, so I decided to go home to mow the lawn. My roommate had asked me to hire someone to do it, but I thought I would save money by buying a mower and doing it myself. I was nearly finished with the job when I stepped backwards into a brick planter, fell over it, and cut off both my left big toe and a chunk of the same foot with the lawnmower.

The pictures are gruesome, which is why I won’t post them. Use your imagination. The play-by-play proves it was a freak accident, but freak accidents are hilarious to some and cringeworthy to others. It certainly is hilarious in hindsight, but in the moment it was the most horrifying thing I had experienced. Having worked in an ER and as an EMT, I had seen worse things, but those things had never happened to me. I had only observed and done my best to prevent further injury. Until September 16th, 2013, I had never really understood the pain and helplessness experienced by all those patients I had helped out of wrecked vehicles or seen on stretchers as they were wheeled into trauma rooms. Of the hundreds of thoughts going through my mind following my fall, two stood out: “It could be worse” and “Damage control.” I wasn’t going to die, but the tables had been turned. I had become the patient.

Ultimately, the toe wasn’t able to be salvaged, but the surgeon did an outstanding job fixing up the rest of the foot. Despite his marvelous work, he wasn’t able to isolate and club all of the relevant nerve endings, so it sometimes feels as though I never lost anything. Pain often shoots up my leg like a bolt of lightning, causing me to lurch. Strangers sometimes see it happen and incorrectly assume I’m tweaking, suffering from a mental disability, or both. My sleep is often filled with unexpected stabbing sensations. The worst is when my already absent toenail feels as though it’s being pried off backwards. I have to rub the scar for awhile to make that one go away. How cruel that a thing such as phantom pain should exist. It’s like seeing pictures of lost loved ones — constant reminders of those we will never again see in person. The more we focus on the pictures, the more we miss those we’ve lost. We can hide the artifacts of the deceased, but phantom pain arrives uninvited like a slap across the face. There is no warning that it’s coming and there are few surefire ways to control it, but when the pain abates, I miss the thing I’ve lost. Still, my pain is a minor annoyance compared to the agony experienced by those who have lost more. A toe is trivial, but its loss has given me a taste of what it means to lose a part of the body. It’s amazing that the loss of something so seemingly insignificant can have such a dramatic change on your perspective. More serious things could have happened to me on that day three years ago. I have so little to complain about. I was lucky.

In the days and weeks following my accident, I had this inexplicable feeling of excitement. I had an odd physical energy that seemed to radiate from deep in my chest. My doctor was surprised when I asked him to prescribe less effective painkillers. He told me to call immediately if I needed stronger drugs, but I never made that call. I felt fantastic. Granted, I didn’t walk without assistance for 7 months, but in all that time I developed this strange assertive optimism. I was hopeful, almost buoyant. After doing some research, I discovered that the thing I was experiencing was called post-traumatic growth. Until then, I had never heard of it, but its existence thrilled me. It reinforced the old adage: “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” Put a pin in that because I’m coming back to it…

Time for change

I recently had the pleasure of meeting a man who was wearing one of the most advanced prosthetic arms in existence. As fortunate as he may feel to have it, I’m certain that, if offered the choice, he would not hesitate to take a normal, healthy limb over his state-of-the-art prosthesis. It may be advanced, but he still has to focus on activating the mechanisms that move the fingers and wrist — movements the vast majority of us make without thinking. I may not have any prostheses, but the possibility of working with those who could benefit from them is something that excites me.

As I mentioned above, I can’t complain. We should all be complaining, however, as some of our Wounded Warriors are coming home only to be fitted with insulting rudiments, if anything. How effective is a hook compared to an artificial hand? How in all this time have we not found better solutions that everyone can benefit from? Every amputee in this country should be afforded the best treatment and the latest advancements in prosthetic research. More is required of us. If innovation is our goal, more will always be expected of us.

Here’s an interesting fact: The oldest prosthetic in existence was created sometime between 950 and 710 B.C. in Egypt. Interestingly enough, it’s an artificial big toe.

As fascinating as it is that such a device existed more than 2600 years ago, it’s an indictment on present-day medicine and prosthetics. I could have been fitted with a similar prosthesis following my accident, but I felt I didn’t need it. My mind may yet change, but the concept of the device hasn’t changed much at all. It’s literally ancient. After all this time, why hasn’t something better come along?

Change is coming…

In January 1982, rock climbing prodigy Hugh Herr and a fellow climber were disoriented by a blizzard on Mount Washington in New Hampshire. Both men were rescued after being stranded for several days, but they both incurred severe tissue damage from frostbite. They both had limbs amputated. In Herr’s case, he lost both legs. Despite his injuries, he experienced post-traumatic growth. What didn’t kill him made him stronger. Herr began building his own prosthetics. He created legs that supplemented his climbing practice. Following his return to the sport, he completed a degree in physics. From there, he earned his master’s in mechanical engineering from MIT and a PhD in biophysics from Harvard. He didn’t allow his physical circumstances to define him. Instead, they empowered him. In his 2014 TED Talk, he said, “I didn’t view my body as broken. I reasoned that a human being can never be broken. Technology is broken. Technology is inadequate.” [You can watch the full TED Talk at the end of this piece.]

Technology is finally showing the promise that Dr. Herr envisioned. In addition to his work in biomechatronics, 3D printing is enabling private citizens to design and build prosthetic hands for people of all ages. Technologies are being developed that connect the brain with prosthetics and limbs paralyzed due to nerve and spinal cord injuries. It’s not enough to have the most advanced wheelchairs when there are technologies that are helping people walk again.

Despite the present-day drama in the news, it truly is an exciting time to be alive. We have no excuse not to ensure that we are growing and becoming better human beings. We are not the sum of our circumstances, so we should always reach for excellence. We can always be better, even when we’re at our best.

I firmly believe the day will come when I no longer call myself Nine-Toed Mike, but until then, I’m going to push myself to be better than my best and to be optimistic in the face of adversity. It’s always the best time to be alive. I will fail time and again, but I will always get back up, standing on what’s left of my feet.

Let’s all try to be better than we were yesterday.

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