A look at what could be…

Posted by: Nate
Posted: Tue, June 29 2010 at 9:49am

I was fortunate in late May to be able to be part of a trip of fellow biologists to a wonderful piece of property in southern Iowa.  As a private lands prairie biologist in Nebraska we aren’t often treated to vistas resplendent with oak savannahs.  For those who are unfamiliar an oak savannah it is a very rare and highly endangered habitat type that is the continuum between oak woodlands and tallgrass prairie.  What it ends up looking like is a sparse woodland with an abundant understory of grasses and prairie flowers.  The reason this habitat type is so endangered is that it is a fire maintained habitat – without fire these areas yield to trees and become oak woodlands. 

There is a growing conservation interest in oak savannahs throughout the Midwest as science begins to better understand this habitat type.  There are still a lot of questions to ask but there are many more answers available today than just a few years ago.  The questions we sought on our trek to southern Iowa were: what does it take to restore an oak savannah and how long before a landowner can see the results of their labors? 

In quest for this answer we sought out a tiny treasure near the town of Leon, Iowa; a gem called Timberhill Savannah.  The beauty of this property is incredible beyond belief; steep wooded draws and and creek channels lush with hundreds of species of grasses, sedges, and flowers galore.  It is an incredible place with an incredible story.  The landowners discovered, almost by accident, that the property they purchased back in the mid 80s was in fact a degraded bur oak savannah.  As time went on they got several pieces of advice from various people before deciding on their management strategy.  Much of it was conventional woodland management that would ultimately yield more woodlands.  A single voice gave them hope; suggesting burning and thinning to open the tree canopy and get more sunlight to the ground.  They dared to dream; wondering what could be. 

They began clearing some of the smaller understory trees, and most importantly, began an annual regimen of dormant season burning in the fall.  Little by little things began to change.  Shortly after they purchased the property they found 100 species of plants there.  As the years went on, as the natural processes were put back in place, they found more and more plants, many of them very rare.  Today they can count 460 species of plants on their property; almost all of them are native species, many of them are exceedingly rare, and it all combines for a beautiful sight.  So, we were able to discover a few answers: putting fire back on the landscape can indeed have an incredible effect on the land.  As we came to learn, the landowners worked for a decade before they began to see major changes – a span of time that most aren’t willing to commit to.  But it gives us cause for hope.

As I walk the prairies and woodlands of southeast Nebraska I pull out this kernel of knowledge now and then to consider what this area could look like if we took the time and put forth the effort. 
At this point you may be wondering what this has to do in relation to a C-Leg and amputees.  Well, I see an analogy to the story of this amazing habitat and my life.  I am a decade past the point where the real work began and I too have seen some very amazing results.  As I look back on the early days and all the hard work that I had to do just to get by, I smile.  My grin takes hold as I consider that I can now traipse the hills and valleys with my colleagues, participating in the discussions and hikes as we learn more about the landscapes of the Midwest.  I don’t have to be the stereotyped “handicapped guy” who always has to sit out of the physical parts of the job.  I jump right in with both feet and interact as a part of the team. 

I am thankful for the technology that allows me to participate in my life.  I know I have written about this in the past but I am constantly reminded of how much more difficult things could be and how I would have much greater challenges on a different prosthesis.  I also see other amputees who have reached the end of the capability given to them by their prosthesis.  They have hit the glass ceiling of their disability and cannot see how to get any higher.  Having been there I can empathize; being where I am now I can dream – because I have hope and I consider what could be.

Otto Bock HealthCare pays Nate a small fee for his essays.

Amputee Humor

Posted by: Susan
Posted: Sun, June 27 2010 at 10:15am

I made a faux pas at work the other day.  I recently received my first rotator for my prosthetic leg.  I have a long residual limb for an above knee amputee, so while a lot of amputees get rotators between their socket and knee component, this is the first time I’ve had enough room for one.

So I’ve been excited about my rotator.  I can now move my leg out of the way when I drive and I can potentially go to the shoe store and try my own shoes on.  (I could never do that before without help or taking my leg off, so I’ve mostly been buying shoes on line, though I’m not sure I will do it)  I can also sit cross-legged.  I’ve seen it on U-tube and heard of people using their rotators to as a joke– gee, my leg is sticking up in the air, but it’s not something I’ve thought about too much. 

Last week, it kinda just happened.  I was in my co-workers cubical.  We had had a difficult day and were tired, and it just came out of my mouth.  “Do you want to see my rotator?”  When I stuck my leg up in the air, my co-worker kind of screamed.  Even though I had sort of warned her by asking her if she wanted to see it, I guess she didn’t really realize what that meant.  Oops.  A few of my co-workers were amused when they found out the next day, but others were still wary of seeing how my rotator worked!  Darn, I was really kinda amused by it.

I realize that since it is inappropriate for others to make fun of my disability, I probably should not also, especially in a work environment.  But as another co-worker pointed out, there is a difference between laughing with you rather than at you.  Regardless, I will be more careful in the future.  Generally though, I really do think that it is OK to laugh at myself.  I really do think that it can lighten things up for others who might be uncomfortable with my amputee status.

I know a wonderful bi-lateral above knee amputee who has been a fantastic role model and inspiration to me. He normally wears his microprocessor knees, but he has worn his stubbies and a leprechaun outfit on St. Patrick’s Day and his stubbies and an Elf outfit during Christmas!  By him embracing his disability, it gives me strength to embrace mine.  I was devastated when I first had my leg amputated, and was for a long time afterwards.  Sometimes it still bothers me, but if he can joke about his condition, with two limbs amputated, I certainly deal with one!  He gives me strength to be myself. Would I rather not be an amputee if given the chance?  Yes.  However, humor can be healing, and at this point, I’d rather laugh than not.  When you get lemons, make lemonade, right?  I have also had some wonderful opportunities and experiences, and met some fantastic people through being an amputee.  I have a lot to be grateful for.

While I realize that there is value in being sensitive in some situations, most often I think that it is positive for me to be able to have a little humor regarding my status as an amputee.  Light heartedness is healthy for me, and can put others at ease.  Basically I am “me”.  I am a whole person, and I need to be comfortable with myself.  I guess I just need to watch out what company I am in when I swing my leg around!

Otto Bock HealthCare pays Susan a small fee for her essays.

My Second First Steps…

Posted by: Nate
Posted: Fri, January 15 2010 at 10:15am

This week was a quiet week of office work and thus I don’t have any stories of long walks and field work to share so I thought to do something a little different.  As I’ve written about before I have two young girls, the oldest of which is not yet two years old.  My wife and I often sit in awe of the realization that there are many things that our young ones are learning to do for the first time in their lives.  For some reason it’s a very profound thought for the two of us that regardless of how many times one of the girls might smile, laugh, roll over or walk there was always the first time that they learned it as something new in their emerging world. 

Less than eight months ago my wife and I were blessed to see our oldest daughter walk for the first time.  She took her first steps as we looked on, we could not have been more proud.  That was a big day for all of us and the world has not looked the same since.  I imagine that in another six months or so we’ll be in that same situation for the second time with our youngest.  She too will climb to her feet, give us a smile and take a couple of shaky steps into our waiting arms. 

I suppose for my parents it was remarkable the day I took my first steps when I was a toddler.  Despite its impact I don’t recall that glorious day at all.  I do remember a different first step though: the second time I took my first steps.  I had been an amputee for only six days the first time I met my prosthetist.  When I told him how long it had been he laughed a little and made a comment about how I was a little eager.  He told me I had a few more weeks to wait before I could start on the process of casting my stump, fitting the socket, and beginning to walk on my prosthesis.  All I remember of those weeks was the impatience I felt about wanting to get back walking so badly.  Eventually enough time went by, the swelling in my stump shrunk enough to be workable, and it was time to get started. 

I remember the casting process was a lot like fourth grade art class: it was a considerable mess and when it was done the finished product looked somewhat like it was supposed to.  I didn’t care about the mess or what the cast looked like; all I cared about was that it got me one step closer to walking again.  Not long after I had an appointment to tweak the fitting of a test socket and after a few adjustments I was headed back for the final socket and my second chance to walk for the first time. 

I remember there being discomfort, pain, elation, disbelief, and a whole lot of feelings and emotions I couldn’t put into words.  I remember thinking it had only been a couple months since I’d lost my leg and yet it was so different than I remembered walking to be.  I remember being amazed at how much energy it took to do something as simple as walking; something that took almost no energy before my amputation. 

These memories make me curious if that’s what those first steps are like for my girls.  First it seems to be so much work for not a lot of success, then things get progressively easier, steadier, and more efficient; and before you know it you’re zipping along at a speed you hadn’t imagined possible before you began.  Watching them go through this experience makes me want to comfort them and tell them not to worry, that it gets easier as you get stronger. 

Having been fortunate to get a second chance at walking in my life I hope that others will also decide to do what it takes to learn to walk again.  I, like my little ones, reached a tipping point where one day I decided that I was going to go for it; no matter what.  I could continue to crawl my way through life or I could put my all into trying to improve my situation.  I’m glad that I took that first step; if you’re in that situation I hope you do too. 

Until next time.
Nate

Otto Bock HealthCare pays Nate a small fee for his essays.

To Cover or Not Cover?

Posted by: Susan
Posted: Tue, January 05 2010 at 10:11am

Recently I read two articles talking about choices an amputee has regarding covering their prosthesis. 
In the first article, the author was adamant about not wanting to walk around looking like what she considered a “comic book character”.  Her preference was to wear a cosmetic cover over her leg. Part of her message was to make sure prosthetists offer patients the option of a “cosmetic” cover.  The author was strong in her personal beliefs that covering her prosthesis was important and also added to her functionality. I certainly believe that prosthetists should offer patients a choice, but I took offence when the author spoke about people who do not cover their prosthesis as people who look like “comic book characters.”

The second recent article I read about this was in the inMotion Nov/Dec 09 magazine and it also spoke about the options of covering or not covering prostheses.  It also mentioned how some insurance companies will not pay for cosmetic covers.  I would recommend reading this article, as I think it gave a broad point of view regarding the options amputees have. 
So far in my three years as an above knee amputee, I have chosen not to cover my prosthesis.  I think it is mostly because I had the opportunity to be with many other amputees, and the experience of being an amputee has became fairly “normal” to me.

Initially the experience of becoming an amputee was pretty traumatic.  I might’ve chosen to cover my leg, but being involved in an amputee community where many did not cover their prostheses has influenced me.  In both 2007 and 2008 I was fortunate to be able to attend the ACA Conference.  I also have participated in a great support group in Marlton, NJ, and my physical therapist only treats amputees, so I often had therapy with other amputees.

Some of the amputees I have met, who chose not to cover their prosthesis, use the opportunity of “visibility” as an educational opportunity.  I have also done this.  Recently, I met a man in the airport that was a bi-lateral amputee - one above knee and one below.  He specifically said that he never wears long pants and when people stare, he generally offers the opportunity as a conversation opener.

I think in the past it was more common for people to cover their prostheses.  I remember speaking to one older person who said she couldn’t understand why some amputees would not cover their prosthesis.  My opinion is, this is me and I have nothing to hide!  If someone wants to choose to cover their prosthesis, great.  But I work hard to accept myself, as I am, whether or not my prosthesis has a cosmetic cover.  While I will sometimes wear long pants at work, or in the winter, I am also happy to have the opportunity to have my C-Leg, and I choose to wear it proudly!

Susan Lazarchick

Otto Bock HealthCare pays Susan a small fee for her essays.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it stop

Posted by: Nate
Posted: Fri, December 11 2009 at 9:01am

Like many of you around the country this first week of December brought a large and seemingly angry snow storm.  To even call it a snow storm is like calling a tiger a “little kitty”.  After just having moved from northern Wisconsin to southeast Nebraska I had thought we had left this kind of weather behind but I’ve never been more wrong.  The snow began as a dusting, overnight saw about three inches, and by the end of the second day we easily had at least a foot of fresh snow on the ground.  As if to say “I’m just warming up” the storm proceeded to buffet our state with 40 mile per hour winds for the next 24 hours as the new fallen snow was whipped into a maelstrom of swirling flakes and shifting snowdrifts.  All we heard on the news was that schools and roads were closing, travel was not advised, and you should stay in doors if possible.  What a mess! 

In light of all this snow I knew that once it stopped I’d have to be a responsible citizen and shovel my sidewalk and driveway.  I would need to get out of the garage to go to work the next day and the sidewalks needed to be clear if someone walked by.  So, I got dressed in my warmest winter gear and headed for that large white drift that was my front yard.  As much as I dislike shoveling it’s no longer because I’m afraid of falling down, now it’s just my distaste for throwing out my back or having my eyelids freeze shut. 

If you’re the kind of person that truly dislikes falling down than winter is not the season for you.  If you’re outside at all you’re faced with more falling opportunities than you could count.  Ice, slush, and powder all combine in some evil plot to re-teach you about how well the law of gravity works [as if you’ve forgotten since last year].  Plus, falling hurts, sometimes a lot, and can even wind up with some bone broken or ligament torn.  Admittedly, I’m one of those people who doesn’t care to fall down.

I recall what I didn’t like about shoveling before I got my C-Leg: everything!  From the moment I set foot outside in the winter I was afraid; falling was a real and regular occurrence on my mechanical prosthesis.  Too much or too little weight on it at just the wrong moment, due to a icy slip or stumble, and I would find my way to the ground in a hurry.  I no longer have to worry about falling down because of my knee failing so I’m free to head outside and do the things I need to do, like shoveling. 

The other winter scenario I didn’t used to like was walking in deep snow.  The challenges of deep snow can be substantial for amputees.  You’re often faced with uncertain foot placement and as a result without enough weight on the front of the foot you aren’t always going to get the right leverage to release a knee into swing phase.  Also when lifting a foot out of the deep snow you’re likely to have it drag through the snow, which slows it coming forward, making for an uncertain or dangerous next step.  Plus, with uncertain footing often comes difficulty balancing, which can also lead to knees bending when they shouldn’t. 

Now the deep snow isn’t so much of an issue for me.  Because of the intelligence of the microprocessor in my knee it knows when I’m walking and when I’m standing and has plenty of resistance if I stumble.  The certainty of the foot being in place for every step, and the ability to step onto a bent knee and maintain resistance, gives me confidence that even when I drag my foot in the heavy snow it will support me for the next step regardless. 

So, as we dig out from the “Blizzard of the Century” remember, be safe, stay warm, and when in doubt, borrow a snow blower. 

Until next time.
Nate

Otto Bock HealthCare pays Nate a small fee for his essays.