Up until August 14 1999, I had never had an injury that wouldn’t heal. What I mean by that is, as a kid you hurt yourself all the time; bloody noses, broken bones, bruises, sprains, stitches and the occasional (or in my case somewhat frequent) knocked out tooth. But on that rainy Saturday afternoon, at the prime age of 22, I had the first injury in my lifetime that wouldn’t be fixed in seven or eight days, or even seven or eight weeks. This was the one time that I had an accident and would never be the same again. I had been a competitive swimmer, diver, bmx bike racer and ice hockey player. I also tried my hand at a pile of other sports such as baseball, soccer, basketball, and rock climbing. I managed to survive work as a tree climber and even learned how to successfully land an airplane without killing myself while working on a pilot’s license. But this was different. This day I would wake up one way and never wake up that same way again. I still haven’t; I never will. That was the last day that I ever walked painlessly on my own two feet. Almost two years after that day, I would wake up with a little less pain and one less foot.

The Accident

    That fateful day started like many others had during the previous four years. I woke up bright and ugly at a racetrack in the back of my van. See, I had been working towards making my mark as a motorcycle road racer. I just was hoping that my ”mark“ wouldn’t end up as a spot on the pavement. My teammate and I ran around to every race on the northeast circuit and this race found us in Warren, Ohio. I wasn’t one of those crazies who chase each other over huge jumps and fly 30 feet in the air. I was a different type of crazy. I raced one of those crotch-rocket types, and stayed much closer to the ground at all times, sometimes to the point of dragging on the ground…at 150 mph. This day I got real close to the ground.

    I started the race from the front row, blew my start and was at the back of the pack before turn one. I spent the next 15 laps picking off riders I should have never been behind while creating new expletives at the top of my lungs, inside my helmet. I finally caught up to the leaders who, over the past few seasons, had become some of my toughest competition and some of my best friends, then I settled down.

    There was only one problem; the race started wet, so I put on rain tires. However, during my fifteen laps it had stopped raining, and the track began to dry out. Without boring you with the details of why rain is important to rain tires, lets just say that in order for the tires to stay cool you need water, and without the rain I was aiming for every puddle I could find. Unfortunately, with the temperature of the track going up, the puddles were disappearing. And after pulling out every trick I had to get back up front, my tires had effectively turned into balls of melted grease. My realization of this came at a most inopportune time as I had just slipped and slided my way into first place.

    I was now faced with a difficult dilemma, finish the race in my favorite spot and be first to see that coveted checkered flag, or give way to the 30 or 40 other lunatic vultures behind me and save my bike and maybe my health for another day. Well, any of you who know me know that while attempting to be calculating, I do subscribe to the ”go big or go home“ philosophy. I never showed up to any kind of race to pick up a second place finish. Right after I chose what was always the obvious answer to me back then, my answer to the question came around and bit me. Hard. On lap 17 of 20, my tires had enough. I finally got my motorcycle in a two-wheel slide that I couldn’t pull out of that put me, feet first, through a retaining wall made of old race tires somewhere in the vicinity of 90 mph. Among the injuries that would heal; bruises, a half bitten-off tongue, and a couple of impacted discs, there one that wasn’t going to mend. I broke my talus bone in my right ankle and it was dislocated 180 degrees.

Getting Put Back Together

    Jump forward 40 hours, three hospitals and a few states away. Thanks to my father and brother who got one of those dreaded, middle-of-the-night calls from my girlfriend, they made a very quick round trip run to Ohio. I arrived in my hometown of Baltimore, Maryland and was taken to a hospital in the city to one of the best foot and ankle guys in the business. He was able to repair my ankle for the time being without costing me the foot. He was the first of three doctors not to mention the dreaded ”A“ word…amputation. Unfortunately, over the next two years, that word would be replaced by another word, a four-letter ”F“ word…foot. My right foot refused to heal.

    Two months after my original repair job, I was finally out of bed, but I acquired a bad staph infection as a result of a sloppily performed nerve-pain treatment. This required surgery (number two) and another week in the hospital.

    After spending just about all of the next year on crutches, I celebrated the one-year anniversary of my accident with surgery number three. This was to partially fuse my ankle that had broken again. I still had about 50% of the up-and-down motion of my ankle (plantar/dorsal flexion to you educated types) but none of the side-to-side motion.

    This too was not destined for success and, eight months later, surgery number four left me with a fully fused ankle that was locked at 90 degrees.

    Four months later, the oh-too-familiar feeling of walking on a broken ankle came back. With gritted teeth, I walked into the doctor’s office that should have had a wing built with my name on it. To make a long story short, my ankle was broken…again. I walked out of the office an hour or so later with an amputation of my right leg scheduled less than two weeks away. Sounds rough, but it was my choice. I was given the option of a third fusion, but declined. My busted foot was 24 years old and I figured it was time for a new model.

Amputation #1

    One would think that this would be, at the very least, the last surgery I would need for this one accident. I was given what I was told was an ”Ertl Procedure“ and had the principles vaguely explained to me. As it turns out, I was given what was just a bridge-type procedure that was not at all the authentic osteomyoplastic amputation surgery that an Ertl would perform. Contrary to the real deal, there was a screw left in my limb that held the bridge together, the tibia was more than a half inch longer than my fibula and well below the bridge, and the nerves were not recessed properly.

    After adjusting to the first year of life as an amputee after two years of not really walking and attempting to return to an active lifestyle, I immediately started developing increased pain in my residual limb. This pain continued for the next year, and I was unable to do much more than walk because I couldn’t get my sockets comfortable. I didn’t have insurance and my patience as well as my prosthetist’s patience was wearing thin due to the discomfort and the seemingly uncontrollable volume fluctuations. Early in 2004, I finally got my insurance worked out, and a visit to the doctor confirmed my concerns that all was not well with my residual limb. Apparently, the screw had migrated and was protruding almost a centimeter through my tibia. This resulted in a large fluid bursa that was later discovered to be vascular. Through some studying and searching, I found the contact information for Dr. Jan Ertl. I immediately consulted with him to repair the damaged limb.

    Having your leg amputated is not something that you ever plan on doing once. If I had to do it twice, I was going to the best to get it done correctly this time. It took some work and was quite a headache to get the insurance end of it figured out. But in the end, I was scheduled to drive to Sacramento, California for surgery on April 10 2004.

Amputation #2

    The surgery went very well except for the additional damage that was discovered. Dr. Ertl not only found that the bursa was vascular, but it measured 3cm by 5 cm! That is about the size of a chicken nugget! In addition, there were three nerve neuromas, along with some muscle and bone reconstruction work to do. The procedure took twice as long as planned, but in the end was successful. Dr. Ertl was very helpful and took the time to explain everything to me very well. The finished product was work of art compared to my first amputation! You could see the difference immediately right after surgery.

Back on Track

As you can imagine, I was very anxious to get up and going, so I set to work immediately. The previous fall, I had made a commitment to myself to complete the entire San Diego Triathlon Challenge, a half-Iroman distance event to benefit the Challenged Athletes Foundation (CAF) in October 2004. I didn’t want any ”little“ surgery to deter me from my course. About three weeks post op, I was back in the pool. I had been (and continue) working for Ossur North America as a technical service representative. Ossur not only makes some of the best prosthetic products on the market, but they were extremely supportive and accommodating when I took time off for surgery and during my recovery. Some of my co-workers also took on the responsibility of keeping me in fitting sockets all summer long.

    Thanks to the efforts of Ossur, after eight weeks, I was walking. In ten weeks I was cycling, and at 12 weeks I was running on my new limb! This was amazing to everyone, myself included, but it is a testament to how much impact a properly ”Ertl-ized“ limb can take! This was great, but with only four months to go before the triathlon, I still had a lot of work to do. Fortunately, with Ossur helping me with prosthetics, my revised Ertl amputation making life a lot more comfortable, and the folks at the Challenged Athletes Foundation helping me all along the way with training and moral support, I was able to work hard and not think about my leg so much.

    I am very pleased and proud to report that with the help of the Challenged Athletes Foundation, Ossur North America, and the handiwork of Dr. Jan Ertl, on October 31 I completed that first - very large - goal. I finished the 1.2-mile swim, 56-mile bike, and 13.1 mile run in six hours and 56 minutes. It was a terrific day for the race and a very inspirational one. I was proud to be there as a supporter of CAF, Ossur, and as an Ertl amputee. A lot of very generous people were able to raise over $1,095,000 for many challenged athletes just like me all over the world.

Life After Ertl

    For two and a half years I was barely able to do more than walk with my original amputation and was always in pain. Since having the Ertl revision, I can now hold my socket on better with the use of my muscles that were reattached properly. My distal end bearing has increased from less than 15 to 20 lbs. to over 60 lbs. And with the nerves repaired, I am more comfortable overall and have less phantom pain. This has now opened up the door for me to complete many more goals as an active amputee. I am very lucky. It is very difficult for me now to meet other amputees who are limited and suffering due to inferior amputations. Because of the work that I do, I meet many amputees, several of which are much less fortunate than I am. It is criminal when you see some of the horrific amputations that are given to people. I met a man who had a non-trauma amputation and it looks like he stepped in a bear trap because a general surgeon who knows nothing about amputations performed the surgery. The advantages to me, and all of those around me are obvious and I hope that with more awareness of the Ertl procedure, this will become more mainstream as both a revision and primary surgery.

    In the immediate future, I am training for the California Half Ironman in March as well as several other Olympic-distance triathlons in 2005. Eventually, I would like to compete at the Ironman distance. I have also gone back to ice hockey and am playing with an able bodied men’s hockey team. I am planning to try for a spot on the U.S. Amputee Hockey team for 2005/2006.

Thank you Dr. Jan Ertl, Ossur and, CAF.

You will be seeing a lot more of me in the future.