It all changed in an instant. One minute, I was a passenger in a friend’s 4×4 with my kids, and the next, I found myself lying in a puddle of blood and dirt, crushed under a roll cage, wondering about my uncertain future. It was the fall of 2016, and I had just embarked on my career as an Nat Geo explorer, with adventures like the Valley of the Khans Expedition, filming China’s Mega Tomb, and my first expeditions in Guatemala under my belt. At the same time, I was a divorced father of two kids who depended on me.
That was a scary time, but reflecting on the journey now, I thought I would share some of my experiences in the hope that it might help someone else who’s facing a similar moment. To those who may be reading this in such a context, I can only say that it gets better, and hopefully, it gets way better.
So here are a few of my insights from my own journey (strictly personal, not formal medical advice)
Find Your Motivation and Expand Your Perspective:
The weeks and months that followed were a whirlwind of uncertainty, navigating between concepts like “limb salvage” or a future as an amputee—things that had never crossed my mind until that moment. Two things guided me through. The first was the support of my community: my family, my girlfriend Bruna at the time, our friends, and my colleagues. Even Nat Geo sent a gift basket in the shape of a foot. The second was an image that was shown to me of world-class adaptive surfer and shark attack survivor turned conservationist, Mike Coots, riding in the heart of a barreling wave. The look on his face was incredible. Sometimes, all you need is a single image to shift your perspective, and with it, your reality.
Changing Limb Size and Finding a Socket that Fits
To get back to exploring and playing with my kids, I needed to figure out how to shape and walk on an artificial leg. The first few years of limb loss come with a lot of changes. Your “residual limb” atrophies and shrinks naturally because it’s no longer supporting a functioning mechanical movement. I always tell new amputees not to settle and advocate for a better fit, as it’s always changing in the beginning. What I quickly realized is that tiny changes in a socket fit can turn the leg from feeling usable and freeing into something excruciating with every step. It’s important not to settle for “okay” in the initial “check sockets,” the temporary sockets used to refine the shape. Every bit of fine-tuning can make a world of difference in the steps you take afterward. Staying with it, communicating your needs, and finding a prosthetist willing to take the time to listen and adjust is what, in my opinion, makes all the difference.
Stretch and exercise
This is good for anyone, but maybe even more important for amputees. We have to work twice as hard to stay limber and mobile, but the better we build in daily physical fitness routine and a steady consistent weight, the easier it is to keep a socket fitting.
Keeping Things Clean
I’m often in the jungles, deserts, and mountains now, sometimes without access to many resources. The one thing I always keep with me is an Allen wrench, just in case things get misaligned, and supplies to keep my leg and liner clean. This prevents small skin abrasions that could hinder me from being out in the field.
Hardware and What Prosthetic to Use
People often ask me what prosthetic devices I use. I am now an Össur Ambassador and use the Proflex Waterproof XC for everything I do, from grocery shopping to surfing big waves. The foot has to provide the right energy return for your weight, but, for me, the most important thing is that it’s simple. Less is more. This is because I often find myself in harsh environments, and I need my foot to be reliable more than anything else, so for me, no moving parts is the way to go. On a side note, when I go into the jungles now, I think I have an advantage, as snakes have a 50% chance of a rude awakening with me.
Phantom Pain
Days after the amputation, phantom pain began to shoot through me. It was a strange feeling—a shock in the air where my body had once been, a burning fire running up an imaginary foot that was no longer there. I had the opportunity to work closely with Prof. VS Ramachandran, the discoverer of mirror therapy, as he happened to be part of UC San Diego, my home university. From all those moments, my biggest understanding of this phenomenon is that our minds have maps of our realities and our bodies just the same. When you lose a limb, the map remains, but the signal is saying something is dramatically wrong, resulting in these electrifying experiences. We used mirrors between my limbs to trick my brain into seeing two limbs again, but each time the mirror was removed, my phantom pains would shoot right back in. After having spent so much time in the rituals and ceremonies of our humanity, I knew that there were many ways to reach a more neuroplastic state—a state where your mind could loosen up its default mode network and potentially remap into its new reality. So I started combining the mirror technique with other ways to enter a “flow state,” like deep meditation, breathing exercises, and float tanks. Ultimately, what worked for me was the combination of mirror therapy and psilocybin, to see a new reality with the mirror while in a transformative state of mind. The results were life-changing as it finally freed me from debilitating pain, leading to the establishment of a new research center at UC San Diego and an ongoing clinical trial.
I believe the greatest insight of the phantom pain journey was seeing how real something imagined could be. It confirmed, in the most tangible way, that reality is created in the mind. An insight that I have applied to all aspects of my life.
Other Pain
Following the surgery, the doctors sent me home with three pages of medications, a significant portion of which were pain-oriented. About a month or two in, my girlfriend at the time, Bruna, who had been a hero in this whole journey, planned a trip for us. She took us to a remote beach in a secluded part of Belize and intentionally left all my pain meds at home without telling me. It worked! As helpful as they are, do whatever you can to get off the pain medications (hopefully, your experience includes a beautiful lover taking you to a remote beach in paradise, fostering gratitude). Pain is something that is very real, but it’s also something you strangely don’t remember the feeling of. You may remember that you were in pain, but the actual pain is not something you carry with you. Try observing the pain rather than resisting it. Allow yourself to feel it rather than attempting to clench and fight it off. I know it sounds strange, but I have found that resistance may have been the root of much of my pain. Embrace it, and it loses its power.
Self-Image
I remember looking in the mirror during the first week and thinking, “How am I ever going to look good or attractive to anyone again?” Many years later, I think of my prosthetic as my favorite piece of body art. It allows me access to so many cool places and changes the conversation in so many critical moments, such as negotiating access in a remote part of the world. It’s a unique part of who I am, and I believe it tells a story that stands on its own. If you’re reading this and feeling the same way, I hope you go out, wear shorts, embrace the uncomfortable, and realize that you’re not only beautiful but even more badass than before. The first time I walked into the jungle, I felt like a combination of the Terminator and Indiana Jones. I hope you find your bionic alter ego.
Get Involved
Community is a key part of happiness. The amputee community is amazing, and many years later, I find that some of my most rewarding moments come from giving back and helping someone who may be at the beginning of their journey. I learned along the way that there are over 40 million amputees worldwide, of which only a tiny fraction have access to well-fitting prosthetics. We have to pay it forward in whatever way we can.
(See Right to Walk https://righttowalk.org/)
If you’ve read this far, it’s because you or someone you know is on their own journey. I hope that some of this helps…