Louisiana amputees develop support, advocacy group for others

From 2theAdvocate in Louisiana:

Robert Bailey (left in picture), 51, and Carl Falconer (right in picture), 47, are double amputees. Each man went through his own low lows and exultations on the way back to life in the world of “whole people.”

Now, Bailey, Falconer and other amputees in Baton Rouge’s Limb Up want to help people who’ve lost limbs to disease or accident.

Limb Up, an affiliate of the Amputee Coalition of America, is looking for members and more recognition from hospitals and rehabilitation therapists, said Bailey, who lost his legs in a bush hogging accident four years ago.

“We understand why the hospitals don’t refer amputees to us,” Bailey said. “They don’t know who we are, but we have something to say to people.”

Limb Up is a support group, not a business, Bailey said. For more information, call Bailey at (225) 270-3134.

“Most people don’t know what their insurance covers on prosthetics,” he said. “People don’t want to think about it. They look at us &hellip This is people’s worst nightmare.”

Bailey, an unemployed computer programmer, and Falconer, a retail electronics salesman, as well as other amputees, testified on behalf of a bill this spring introduced by state Rep. Chuck Kleckley, R-Lake Charles.

Kleckley’s bill, which was signed into law by Gov. Bobby Jindal, provides an annual cap of $50,000 per limb. When Falconer lost his legs, his insurance paid $5,000. Period.

In July 2007, Falconer had stopped beside I-110 near the Scenic Highway exit to help a woman whose car had a flat tire.

Police said a car traveling at high speed ran off the road, hitting Falconer.

Lying on the ground, Falconer called out encouragement to people around him.

“I’m going to be late for work,” Falconer told a medic. “I’m fine.”

“Carl, you’re not fine,” the medic told Falconer.

Falconer’s injuries would mean amputation of both legs 3 inches above the knees.

“Channel 9 has this on film,” Falconer said. “They’re putting me in the ambulance, and I’m waving like Michael Jackson.”

Falconer’s wife, who had lupus, died seven months after he lost his legs. He’s sure the stress helped bring on his wife’s decline.

Falconer’s sunny disposition was under a heavy layer of clouds after he lost his legs. He met Robert Bailey when Bailey walked into Falconer’s hospital room by mistake. Bailey, walking on high-tech legs, was looking for another patient.

“This guy walked into my room,” Falconer said. “I looked down and saw his legs. I said, ‘This guy’s walking.’ You have no idea what that meant to me.”

Bailey wears shorts most days. He still feels “a tiny twinge” when people stare at his prosthetic lower legs.

“Wearing shorts,” he said, “it’s almost a militant attitude. ‘Here it is. Get used to it.’”

Watching Bailey move around crowded Coffee Call, you’re more likely to marvel at his agility.

Bailey was bush hogging tall grass when a hot muffler apparently set fire to the grass. As the flames licked his lower body, Bailey tried to jump clear. He’s not sure how, but the bush hog ran over him, “my legs literally stopping” the mower’s blades.

“I looked back and saw my boot cut in half in the field and knew something was wrong,” he said.

The first aid training of his brother and brother-in-law saved his life, Bailey said.

“I lost 11 units of blood,” he said.

Though the stress of the accident and the aftermath might have contributed to the end of his marriage, Bailey thinks he came out of the ordeal stronger than he’d been before.

“Amputees say they’ve gotten so much out of this, but they wouldn’t wish it on anyone,” Bailey said. “It’s gut check time. I’m not afraid of much.”

Falconer made almost $200,000 a year, in a good year, as an electronics store manager before he lost his legs. He parked a Mercedes beside the interstate the day he went to the assistance of the stranded motorist.

He’s back at the store he managed, now as a salesman. Once he masters his new legs, Falconer wants to get back into management.

“Before the accident, I was as ignorant as anyone else,” he said.

When Falconer went to a state office to qualify for disability, he found “no ramp and no handicap accessibility” in the bathroom. He started a list of places that made it hard on people in wheelchairs — “including parking at the courthouse,” he said.

“We’re not asking for anything special,” he said. “We just want to be able to take care of ourselves.”