I was born and raised in Charleston, South Carolina, and lived there until after high school, when I joined the military. I served a total of 12 years in the Army, but it was kind of broken up—five years on active duty, then the reserves, and then I had a two-year break because of COVID. I finally came back on active duty after that, and that’s when the accident happened, when I was stationed in Anchorage, Alaska.
I don’t remember a lot of it, but I was on my motorcycle when I was run off the road, went through the median and into oncoming traffic, and collided with a van. My foot was amputated on-site.
I remember lying on the highway, and there was an Air Force nurse who had seen the accident—she ran up and performed first aid on me. She said I was very calm, but I knew something was wrong with my leg—but they wouldn’t let me look at it because they didn’t want me to go into shock.
I woke up in the hospital after three days in an induced coma and found they had also amputated my leg midthigh. Alaska doesn’t have any soldier recovery units, a place for long-term healing where your whole job is the recovery. So my command team talked to me about going to a recovery unit close to my home and family or going to the Center for the Intrepid, a top-tier prosthetic place, in Texas. I chose CFI after looking it up and reading about it because I wanted the best care I could get. I did my physical therapy and my occupational therapy there, and I also got my prosthetics there—they have all of it in-house.
Getting fitted for my leg took some time. I met with my prosthetist, and she took some measurements of my residual limb and told me about the process. When she fitted me with my first socket, which is what holds the prosthetic in place, I had to stand in the parallel bars in my boxers while she wrapped my limb with plaster to make the mold that would be used to make the custom socket. They make a test socket out of plastic that you wear for a week or so, and then they make adjustments. And when you’re happy with it, they make the real socket out of carbon fiber. I got to work with the prosthetist almost every day, getting fitted for the leg and then learning how to actually walk on it again.
My main leg is the Ottobock X3, which is a microprocessor knee. It has a computer in it that enables the knee to closely mimic the gait of my good leg. It also has other helpful functions that help me with everyday life, including adding resistance when I sit, stand, and walk downhill; stair mode, which lets me ascend and descend stairs using a natural step-over-step motion; stumble recovery; and different modes for different activities. It can hold a charge for about five days, depending on how active I am. And if I forget to charge it and the battery dies, it automatically switches to a safety mode with preprogrammed high flexion resistance.
The cool thing about CFI is you’re there with other injured service members and talk and bond with them and see amputees that have, you know, gone through what you’ve started going through, and see different types of things that will help you out in the future. I was there for almost nine months; it’s really definitely the coolest, most beneficial place I’ve seen. I still go there for all of my prosthetic needs, whether I need a minor adjustment, or if my nub starts shrinking and I stop fitting in my socket, they can remold it and make a new socket for me.
I also got to do a bunch of recreational therapy—we would do outings that would be anything from fishing to kayaking, and a lot of this was sponsored by Wounded Warrior Project. We went on trips: waterskiing; I got to go to Colorado twice to go snow skiing. Wounded Warrior Project also got us out into the community, letting us try things we normally wouldn’t try on our own in a more relaxed environment, with others who have similar injuries. This made it easier to make mistakes and learn because you’re doing it together and also forming bonds.
I have an app on my phone that connects to my leg and has different modes for different activities—golf, football, running, cycling, and many more functions you can add. The golf mode won’t let my knee go past a certain angle, so that I don’t have to worry about falling or, you know, the knee collapsing on me. So I just click on the activity I want, and it’ll change to that mode and be ready to go. The app also lets me see what the battery life is on the leg. I think I got the hang of it all within the first month, but actually trusting the knee and being able to tolerate it more took probably six months.
And I have a backup leg with a mechanical knee, without the computers and smarts, but if anything goes wrong with my X3 I can still get around. The biggest difference between the two is the amount of muscle and focus I have to use—because the microprocessor is helping, you don’t have to put as much thought into the steps it takes to make the knee bend, so can focus more on your surroundings. With the microprocessor knee, I use my glute muscle and some of my nub—it just pretty much walks for you—but with the mechanical knee I’m using the whole leg, so it’s a lot more work to walk.
Today I can do a whole bunch of sports on my microprocessor knee; I’ve even competed in the Department of Defense Warrior Games. The first year I did track and field, swimming, and archery. And the second year it was all those and also recumbent bike, wheelchair basketball, wheelchair rugby, and sitting volleyball. Wounded Warrior Project helped here too because they gave all us vets a stipend to help cover food and stuff while we were at the games.
I wasn’t really doing sporting events before the accident, but in the military, they told us soldiers all the time, “You’re a professional athlete.” The Warrior Games are a really cool and fun experience because you’re on the team for your branch but competing against all the other branches. And it’s so supportive there; you’ve got people cheering for you.
You know, when I got injured I thought I was gonna get a peg leg and walk around like a pirate. But the Ottobock X3 has been a game changer for me: I can do anything I want. Now I know this disability’s not stopping me from doing anything—my options are pretty much limitless. It’s all about your determination, and what you want to do—you’re not limited to anything.
I may no longer be in the military, but I’m not disabled and sitting around the house—I do a lot of sports to stay active. I’ve started riding bikes more, and I think it’s going to be one of my top sports now. It’s good cardio and a good overall workout—and it keeps me moving.
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