Archives For Help

In October of 2008, I broke my left arm.

In retrospect, it’s a good thing I broke that one.  At the time, though, I didn’t think it was such a good thing.

Over the next several posts I’d like to share what I remember about that night and what I learned from the experience.  This first one I wrote in the weeks after surgery, while recovering.  Basically a journal entry.  Oh, and be warned…the pictures are kind of gross.

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“F***!”  A pastor’s not supposed to say that, so I apologized to my friend Geoff who heard me.  “It’s cool, dude.”  But, it was not cool…dude.  Seconds before, my feet failed me and I fell down three slick steps onto the pavement.  As a result, I was doing that guy thing where you wander around, moaning and groaning and trying to make yourself think everything’s, well, cool.  While walking across the yard, I felt my left arm.  Apparently that’s what I landed on.  My elbow felt like mush and there was something sticking out where it normally wouldn’t.  “Geoff, you gotta take me to the hospital,” I said.  And he did.

I was so drugged-up, I’m surprised I thought of taking this picture with my phone.

After about two hours in the ER, I got the bad news.  “Ryan,” the doctor said, “You didn’t just break your arm.  You broke the HELL out of it!”  He actually seemed somewhat excited and started drawing on the whiteboard in the room, diagramming my shattered elbow and split humerus.

That doesn't go there.

That doesn’t go there.

The unique wrinkle in all of this is that my left arm, the broken arm, ends just past the elbow.  I was born that way.  I grew up that way.  And unless I experience a miraculous “healing,” I’ll live the rest of my life that way.  I have no problem with that.  But when he was describing the severity of my injuries, I got really scared.  When he told me he wanted me to meet with the orthopedic surgeon the next day to “discuss the options,” I immediately asked, “Do you mean…amputation?”  This coming from someone whose arm is already amputated (congenitally).  Thankfully, amputation was not in the cards, but everything would be different now.  Right?

The surgery was successful, but the next two and a half weeks were a drugged-up blur.  I felt like I wasn’t accomplishing anything, even though everybody said that recovery itself is accomplishing something.  It was hard to convince myself that that was true.  I had two weeks off of work!  I could have done anything!  At least that’s how I felt.  But every time I opened a book to read, my eyes would close.  Every single thing was exhausting.  I still struggle a little bit with those two weeks, wondering if I could have done more.

I warned you! You gotta admit, that’s pretty hardcore.

Another thing that’s been really hard about all this is that it’s made me even more fearful than I already was.  For example, during the first week of recovery Julie took the kids out to run some errands.  Normal.  At some point I called her and got her voicemail.  I tried again.  Voicemail.  Again…voicemail.  Panic.  Obviously something happened!  Something bad, just like what happened to me!  My heart was racing, as was my mind, but faster.  Were they in an accident?!  It only takes a split second!  I’m living proof of that!  I dialed again.  “Hello?”  “Are you ok??  Why didn’t you answer??”  “Relax,” she said, “We’re fine.  My phone was in my purse on vibrate.”  Then, nearly through tears, I explained how everything’s different.

I don’t like that.  What’s worse is that I know I have nothing to fear.  Let me rephrase: theoretically, I know I have nothing to fear.  Why is it so difficult to believe?  Why am I so afraid of money and being transparent and living with integrity and taking risks and failure and physical harm to me and my family and missing opportunities and being perceived incorrectly and not being liked and having too much to read and not being healthy enough and my job…it’s never ending.

I met with my friend Scott for coffee and he said, “I come from a family of worriers.  I try to look at my anxiety and fear as gauges of my belief.  If I’m that scared, do I really believe that God will be faithful in that situation?”  I think that’s a great way to look at it.  I also think I have a long way to go in trusting in God’s faithfulness to me.  I want to believe 2 Timothy 1:7, “For God did not give us a spirit of timidity (of cowardice, of craven and cringing and fawning fear), but [He has given us a spirit] of power and of love and of calm and well-balanced mind and discipline and self-control. (Amplified)”

Sometimes I feel like I’m making too much out of all this.  Lots of people have accidents and surgeries.  Am I being too dramatic?  How can I know?  And how do I know if I’m processing this all correctly?  See?  Stupid fear creeping in again.

I also feel like I should be more motivated; more excited about life.  I should be taking it by the neck and swinging it around like a rag doll.  I should be setting goals and breaking down the barriers to victory.  I should be doing all the things I know I should be doing…but I’m not.  My actions have basically stayed the same.  In fact, if anything it seems that I want to stay in these doldrums.  Today a friend asked me, “How ya doin’” as she nodded toward my arm.  My response?  “Ehhh…ok, I guess.”  Shouldn’t I say, “Every day things are getting better.  I can’t believe how blessed I am to have been able to have surgery to repair my arm and to have incredible friends and family that loved and cared for me through all this.  Sure, my arm will never be the same as it was, but I’m looking forward to the challenge of learning to thrive with it!”

Even writing that is embarrassing.  It’s not me.  Yet.  I’m still scared and angry and sad sometimes.  How will I play piano now?  How will I carry boxes?  Is everything healing correctly?  Should I be doing anything more or less to help?  Just how different will it all be?

Seven screws and a piece of metal. Thanks, doc!

To be honest, given time, it might all go back to normal.  Who knows.

In the meantime, I’m learning.  Learning how to recover, how to cope, how to hope, how to trust, how to process, how to move forward…I need to.  I have to.

I will.

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So…it’s been over three years since the accident.  In my next post I’ll look back and tell more of the post-recovery story and share what I learned from it all.

Well, that was gross.

Let’s get this out of the way right at the beginning: Shoveling stinks.

And I get the sense that rings true no matter how many limbs you have.

I’ve never in my life, though, adapted a shovel to “work better” for me.  I’ve always just used what’s available.  In what is becoming a fairly obvious theme (to me), I just cleared snow however I could.  I never thought about having one hand or having to do it differently than anyone else; I just did it how I did it…yo.

And as far as the snow blower goes, I’m pretty sure I’ve only used it about five times.  Ever.  I think the video reflects that accurately.

Getting a little technical for a minute: Both of these activities (shoveling and using a snow blower) cause me physical pain.  My back hurts from bending over awkwardly and my wrist hurts badly while snow blowing.  Snow blowing is actually worse (of the two) because I’m bent weirdly and my wrist hurts from guiding the entire machine.  I fully realize there are other ways to do it, but here’s the thing…

I live in a condo.  People shovel my driveway for me.

Yesssssssssssss.

(The driveway and snow blower in the video belong to my in-laws.)

My son, Samuel, makes his on-camera debut in this video!

I wish the snow was thicker and more packable.  And that it wasn’t -3 degrees outside.  Oh, well.

Enjoy!

I threw my first wedding ring (the one I had worn for nearly nine years) into the Caribbean Sea.

Accidentally.

My wife had inscribed, “You amaze me” in that one.

We thought long and hard about what to have inscribed in my second ring.

“You amaze me…still.”

I like it.

Ring, The Second

I never thought about the whole wedding ring situation when I was young.  I mean, I was a boy, so there’s that.  It just never occurred to me that I’d have to wear mine on the “wrong hand.”  It’s not like I had a choice, anyway.  My future wife would just have to deal with it.

And deal with it she has.

I don’t remember ever talking with her about the fact that I’d be wearing my wedding ring on my right hand.  It was never an issue.  I do remember, however, deciding that we would save money by getting me a simple, silver ring.  We got it online for $15.  And it lasted me nearly ten years.

I love what wedding rings represent; unending love between spouses.  So romantical.  We all look forward to sliding that ring onto the finger of the one we love.  For those of us in the limb-different community, though, we need to get creative.  Like Nick Vujicic.  You’ve probably seen him.  He doesn’t have arms or legs.  He just got engaged and I’m curious about what he’s going to do.  And my new friend George is missing both arms.  He’s an incredible musician, so he’ll have no trouble finding a lady friend.  I’m excited to see what he does one day when he’s standing at the altar ready to get married.

I’d love to hear your stories!  If you’re limb-different, how did you get creative with your wedding ring?  And if you’re a parent or relative of an LD child, don’t worry.  Just like everything else, they’ll figure it out.

If worse comes to worse, you could always move to a country where the right hand is the right hand for the wedding ring.

On second thought…don’t do that.

Here’s how I put on and take off my wedding ring:

(Join the LOH Facebook community and follow on Twitter, too!)

A Huge Thanks

January 16, 2012 — 3 Comments

Last week I wrote a piece for The Handwritten.  I was excited for it to drive people to this blog because it seemed to fit really well.  My friend Michael posted it on his site and then…

My blog got hacked.

Perfect timing, right?!

Thankfully, Ben Holmen came to the rescue.  He was able to get the blog back-up and running and better than ever!  I want to publicly thank him for his help and encourage you to checkout his AMAZING side projects.  Seriously, they’re brilliant.

First of all, there’s BabyTattle.  Custom e-mail birth announcements.  They’re beautiful and you’ll save a ton of jack by doing this rather than sending physical cards.

Then there’s MistleMail.  Same concept, but for Christmas cards.  Bookmark it for next.  I am.

Please take a minute and click those links.  You’re going to be like, “Whoa…this looks great.”  Serious.

Ben is a good dude.  I love supporting good dudes.

You should, too.

Thanks so much, Ben!

Through the years, when it comes to doing things one-handed, one question has been asked of me more than any other.  Usually the person gets a puzzled look on their face and then they say, “Wait…how do you tie your shoes?”

Well…here’s how.

This is how I always look when I tie my shoes.

This is how I always look when I tie my shoes.

The video ended-up being a little long, but I wanted to be thorough.  I plan on making a shorter, more technical version soon, so stay tuned for that.

Hope you like it!

Ryan

(Join the LOH Facebook community and follow on Twitter, too!)

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The Mitten

Lately I’ve been hearing from a lot of parents regarding the use of a prosthetic arm for their child.

Let me share my experience.

I had a number of prosthetic arms as a kid.  First, there was the one that looked like a flesh-colored mitten.  Oh, there it is, to the left of this sentence.  Looks pretty good, right?  I have no idea how that was attached to my body.  Those are some pretty rad faces, though.

Then there was the hook arm.  The hook arm was what I used most as a kid.  I also hit a kid in the head with it when I was in elementary school because he made me mad.  He started bleeding.  It was cool, though, because I told the teachers he tripped me and it was an accident.  Not my best moment.

Here are some awesome pictures of the hook arm (read to the end so you don’t miss the amazing[ly embarrassing] video):

 

 

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Looking Dapper Hook Arm

 

 

Thoughts:

1) Nice wall-paper.

2) Bieber-hair before Beiber-hair was a thing.

3) Is that high-chair legal?

4) Sweet candle.

5) WHAT’S IN THE BAG???

 

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Ernie and Bert and The Hook

 

 

 

 

 

Now THAT is a chair.  Oh, and you have to admit that this is a pretty cute picture.

 

 

 

 

 

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Father and Son and The Hook

 

 

 

 

This one is in here mostly just because it’s one of my favorite pictures of me and my dad.  Thanks for indulging me.

 

 

 

 

 

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Sweet Bike, Sweet Shorts and Socks, Sweet Hook Arm

 

 

 

I don’t remember this bike very well.  I wish I did.  I actually wish I had this bike still.

 

 

 

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Original Nintendo and The Myoelectric Arm

 

Ok, when I first saw this picture, it freaked me out.  That hand looks super real!  I also wish you could see that sweatshirt.  It was a “spring break” motif with people doing inappropriate things. Why did I have that??  Oh…and ORIGINAL NINTENDO.  ‘Nuff said. (I still have it, too. Box and all.)

 

 

 

Now that I’ve established myself as an expert on the topic, I’ll share my advice:

Do whatever you think is right.

I haven’t used a prosthesis in at least fifteen years; probably longer. I appreciate that my parents had me use one as a kid, though. They gave me every opportunity to try it and see if it was for me.  And it was…for a while. For a long while, in fact.  I used that hook arm a lot.  And when it came time to use the myoelectric arm, I thought it was awesome.  It was like I was a bionic man!  Here, look how happy I was with it:

And while it’s true that I thought it was cool at first, let me give you a little behind the scenes on that news piece.  I never played with LEGOS with that arm in real life.  And I never played basketball with that arm on.  Did you see how awkward I looked on that last shot?  Yeah, I didn’t even make that basket; they edited it that way. Also, my prosthetist did not moonlight as the creator of the Peanuts gang, just so we’re clear.

The truth is, I used to get in trouble for taking my arm off at school and leaving it in my locker.  I used to hate having to practice flexing the muscles in my left arm just right so the hand would open and close.  It was cumbersome to me.  I was a kid and I just wanted to play.  And the main reason it didn’t do it for me: I could already do everything I needed and wanted to do, so why learn another way?

I hope this isn’t coming across as ungrateful.  My point is just that, a prosthetic arm didn’t improve my life.  I appreciate that my parents had me use them as a kid.  I don’t resent it at all.  But, in the long run, it wasn’t for me.

My true advice to parents of limb different kids is to just do your best.  Explore all your options and give them some thought.  Your child can’t make decisions for himself yet, so you’ll have to.  And if you love them enough to want what’s best, that’s enough.  At some point, when they get to an age where they can tell you what they prefer, listen to them.  I would say to be careful about forcing them to do anything when it comes to prosthetics (once they get to an age where they can have a rational discussion with you about it).

And again, I don’t use one, but that’s simply my preference.  One time a gentleman suggested I get a prosthetic for aesthetic purposes, “so you do better in interviews.”  He was trying to be helpful.  I told him, “If an employer doesn’t hire me because I have one arm, that’s their problem, not mine.”  That’s me, though.  Maybe a prosthetic arm would give your child an added sense of confidence.  They’ll let you know.

So, do your best. Love your child. Be ready to listen to them. And value what they tell you.

If you have/had a prosthetic, share your experience. If you’re a parent of a limb different child, please share your experience, too!

shuffle

No idea where these are from.

I don’t think I’ve ever won a game of poker in my life.

Go Fish?  That’s a whole different story.

And Speed.  Have you ever played Speed?  I remember playing that with my siblings when I was younger.  Thinking about it now, though, I’m not sure how I did it with only one hand!

Whatever the game happened to be, there would always be a time when it was my turn to shuffle.  So, I just did it.  Sure, it’s not the prettiest method or perhaps the most effective, but it gets the job done.

What’s funny to me is that there are actually machines that shuffle cards for you, but I’ve never owned one.  I’ve actually never even used one.

And while a machine might be slicker and more effective, I don’t think I’ll ever get one.  It’s just not the same.  (You can get one here, though)

Check out my method below and make sure to leave a comment!  Especially if you have ideas for a sign-off!

(You can also get a one-handed card holder here)

My wife once worked at one of those gift-wrapping kiosks in the mall.

I did not.

I’m not saying I couldn’t have, but it was probably for the best.

I’ve always wrapped presents myself.  For the most part I think I’ve done pretty well with it, too.  I like the crisp lines and the angles and the strategically placed strips of tape.  I take pride in a tight, tidy package.  Especially with CDs.  They’re kind of a pain to wrap, and everyone knows what they are before they open them, but there’s some satisfaction in seeing that little square, sharp corners and all.

That said, sometimes you just don’t care what it looks like, ya know?  And that’s not a one-handed thing; that’s a human being thing.  Throw it in a bag and be done with it.

I hope your gift-wrapping experiences go off without a hitch this year!

Happy holidays!