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Support offered for amputees

March 7, 2004 1:09 am

Local prosthetist Greg Wright told members of his new amputee support group he will take them skydiving, roller skating, swimming or running if that's what they want to do.

Wright is aiming to "show the amputee population the amazing ability of an amputee as opposed to the disability" through the newly formed Fredericksburg Area Amputee Support Team.

FAAST is Wright's second attempt to get amputees together. This time it will be successful, Wright said, because people are attending the meetings and seem more dedicated to the group. He's tried so hard to get a group going because a lot of people through the years have come to him about it. "It was calling me. I couldn't not do it; it was becoming my mission," Wright said.

In his 14 years as a prosthetist, Wright has been astounded at how easily amputees bounce back from their losses to do things they did before the amputation, things like ride a motorcycle. The key is maintaining a positive attitude, said Wright, who in his own work with amputees tries to keep clients from thinking about their lost limb.

"I could build a bionic leg, but you won't walk on it if you don't want to," Wright said. "You could walk on a bucket and a broomstick."

Wright hopes the group will be a referral resource for doctors and an inspiration to new amputees. While an amputee patient is still in the hospital, FAAST will send one of its members with similar injuries to talk to him or her. This summer, members of the group will be certified as peer counselors.

Every new amputee who has spoken to a more experienced amputee comes out of the hospital more positive about his future and more likely to walk again or do the things he wants.

Before FAAST, the closest amputee support groups were in Richmond and Northern Virginia. Wright estimates that amputees in the area number in the hundreds. Most have lost a limb to peripheral vascular disease, or poor circulation, and injuries that don't heal because of diabetes. Right now, the group consists only of lower-body amputees, but all are welcome.

Still in its infancy, the group has been meeting once a month since December. They have already gone bowling once, and have scheduled a golf clinic in June with Professional Golfing Association members under the Eastern Amputee Golf Association.

Jim Brothers believes "humor makes people feel comfortable [with my disability], especially kids."

So he tells jokes like this one: If I lost two feet, he asks people, shouldn't I be 4 feet, 4 inches tall?

Before he lost both legs to infections spurred by diabetes, Brothers measured 6 feet, 4 inches.

He bets other men that he can lose 10 pounds in five minutes. The legs come off, and, voilà, he's 10 pounds lighter.

And he occasionally puts his leg on backwards. Once at a wedding, a man noticed the mistake and politely called Brothers' attention to it. "I just don't know if I'm coming or going," Brothers told the man.

It would seem his humor is also the way Brothers copes with his loss.

He takes in stride things like falling in the shower and waiting four hours for someone to find him; stepping out of bed in the middle of the night to be awakened by his own body crashing on the floor and the other mishaps that come with the territory.

Brothers' left leg turned black five years ago while he was re-tarring his driveway. Not thinking much about it, he ran water over the leg to wash it off, but the color didn't change. He didn't feel any pain, but it turned out that the leg was infected and wouldn't heal because of his diabetes. After losing the second leg three years ago, Brothers was declared "totally disabled."

He doesn't let that label get to him, though. "A lot of people think their life is over [after an amputation]. They don't seem to want to help themselves," Brothers said. "Fortunately, that's not the way I'm built. I never looked at it as the end of my life."

Yet, as he speaks, something in his voice hints at a deeper loss. He talks about losing not just his legs, but a part of his ego. Brothers used to be a big man. He would roughhouse with his grandkids and tower over everyone. Now, he must take things a little easier--stay inside on icy days.

Brothers said he has learned to persevere because of something that he witnessed after the first amputation. He was sitting in McDonald's one day after dropping his daughters off somewhere; his artificial leg was propped up on a chair. Two truck drivers walked by him, smirked and pointed.

Brothers was irritated by this, thinking they were laughing at his expense, so he walked over to them. "Do you have a problem with people who are missing limbs?" he asked the two guys.

The men shook their heads and pulled up their pant legs. Both of them had two artificial legs.

Brothers wants to be that kind of encouragement to others in FAAST and help them overcome that defeatist attitude. He also likes to organize and run events so he'll get involved in the group that way.

Sharon "Doll" Hayes' simple scrapbook--Doll's Leg--chronicles her early years with a prosthetic leg in a way that children can understand.

Each turn of the page reveals a black-and-white picture and a neatly typed explanation.

Hayes is making more of them for her six grown nephews and nieces. Through her story, she hopes to teach their children, her grandnephews and grandnieces, that "people who have disabilities need our special consideration."

She doesn't say this, though, because she's been treated badly. Actually, quite the opposite. Although Hayes never married, she says she has always felt well-loved--by her parents, her two sisters and her grandfather who would show off her leg to his friends. The running joke in her family, affectionately said, is the phrase, "Wait for Sharon."

Growing up in the 1940s, Hayes didn't know anyone else her age with an artificial leg, which also made her feel special.

Hayes was born without a kneecap and the weight-bearing bone on her left leg. Doctors said it would probably never grow and suggested amputating it while she was still young. She was 2 when her leg was cut above the knee and replaced by a prosthetic leg six months later.

Since then, Hayes has had a variety of prosthetic legs, first made of wood and now foam. She's learned naturally how to approach life without a limb--a stark contrast to the awkward transition that the other FAAST amputees have had. That's why Wright believes she will be a huge asset to the group; Hayes can share what she's learned from her years of experience.

Hayes doesn't think she's got anything to offer, but is willing to explore how the group will blossom. Hayes said she hopes the group will push sports because she likes to stay active; she's never let her leg slow her down. "I've spent my life trying to convince everyone I could do it as well. I may do it differently, but I can do it just as well," Hayes said.

In her adult life, Hayes has worked with people who never even knew she's handicapped. "One of the greatest compliments someone can give me is, 'Oh, I forget you have an artificial leg.' That's the way it should be," Hayes said.

On the last page of her scrapbook, Hayes has written in pen: "The loss of a limb doesn't make you less. Use it to make you more. I'm still untapped treasure."

To reach RACHELLE STIGER: 540/374-5000, ext. 5749. rstiger@freelancestar.com