I came home from work a little bit early this afternoon.
I figure I’ll be on the receiving end of a few work-related phone calls over the weekend – due to the heat and potential bushfire conditions – so I figured an early mark was in order.
And so I’ve arrived home, stripped off (well, not completely), sat down with a glass of wine, and have decided to do my best to get my blog up to date. I’ve been neglecting things over the last few days. So if I’m not completely up to date tonight, I soon will be.
It’s nice to be home. The birds are singing in the trees. There’s a lovely breeze to compensate for the heat. And life is pretty good.
Actually, it was quite an interesting day at work. Solved a few problems. Dealt with a few situations. Had a couple of creative ideas. What more could you want for a Friday?
Most notably, I got to meet a bloke (briefly) called Nick Pigott who gave a talk to a group of us entitled, “Radio For The Facebook Generation”. Interesting stuff, especially since it dove-tailed nicely with something I’m doing at work at the moment.
He had lots of interesting things to say. Very entertaining and interesting.
I looked at his new black eee pc with a degree of jealousy. “I just have the plain white original” I whispered to a colleague sitting next to me.
About the only weird thing that happened today was that I was introduced again to someone with whom I’ve had continuous dealings over several years.
Breeze in the trees
In the last year alone, there have been four or five occasions when we’ve communicated via email, and on three occasions have had face to face dealings.
And yet, every time we’e introduced, it’s as if he’s never met before, and has no idea who I am. He looks at me blankly every time and says something along the lines, “nice to meet you”.
It’s odd, because I think I’m a fairly memorable (well, unforgettable) kind of person.
I know some people are good with names, but not faces, and every other variation you might care to consider, but sheesh!!
When you become an amputee, you are immediately introduced to a revolving door of medical professionals: specialists, physiotherapists, and prosthetists. While these experts are incredibly skilled, there is a unique, almost unspoken connection that occurs when you meet a professional who truly “gets it” because they have walked in your shoes—literally.
In an episode of The Limb Shift podcast, I sat down with Jeremy McGrath, a man whose journey from a terrified child to a Paralympic athlete and professional Occupational Therapist (OT) offers a profound look at the “lived experience” of limb loss.
A Difficult Choice and the Journey to Recovery
Jeremy’s story began with a difficult choice. Born with a limb difference, doctors initially suggested amputation when he was very young, but the idea was terrifying. As Jeremy recalled:
“The doctors brought it up again to me. Probably I was about seven or eight or nine. I was pretty young and pretty, pretty horrified at the idea of it. Um, got pretty emotional. Didn’t want to do anything like that.”
However, the medical team explained that as he grew, his leg would continue growing and make his prosthetics “more unshapely heavy,” subsequently limiting his ability to run and remain active. By the time he was fourteen, having given up sport, Jeremy reached a turning point. He realised that delaying the surgery would only make things harder once he hit major life milestones like his Higher School Certificate (HSC), university, and his career.
“I just decided if I have to get this done and I want to kind of live a healthy lifestyle and not limit myself and get back to running and fitness, I just made that decision. I have to do it,” he explained. He placed himself on a waiting list and underwent the amputation at age fifteen.
The immediate aftermath brought a fresh set of physical and social challenges. Jeremy changed schools at the same time, spending three to four months on crutches while navigating an entirely new environment. Because his pre-amputation prosthetic relied on heavy strapping all the way up to his hip, his right quadriceps lacked strength, requiring rigorous pre- and post-operative physiotherapy.
Furthermore, the physical adaptation to the new socket was a slow, painful process. As Jeremy noted, “The swelling was really large and took a long time for that swelling to come down, so had quite a bit of pain in the shoe first adapting to that, um, that socket or that prosthetic.” It took a full twelve months before he could properly return to sport and fitness.
The Psychological Shift and Finding Rowing
While the physical recovery required immense patience, the psychological adjustment was an entirely different hurdle. During his teenage years, Jeremy battled deep insecurities and actively avoided drawing attention to his limb difference.
“Going through high school, I didn’t want my personality or everyone to just look at and identify me through my legs. So I actually wore through the whole of high school long pants. I didn’t like to really bring too much attention to it. Um, so yeah, I was a little bit insecure. Definitely.”
Before his surgery, Jeremy had spent ten years playing soccer, using his heavily strapped leg to “belt the soccer ball.” Post-amputation, he found that kicking a soccer ball with a prosthetic was vastly different: “Sometimes I would kick the ball and my leg would go flying further than the ball.”
Losing that athletic outlet left him adrift until his final year of high school in 2012. Watching the London Games reminded him of attending the Sydney 2000 Olympics as a six-year-old, where he had harboured early dreams of competing at the Paralympics.
Searching for an accessible sport, he looked into rowing, mistakenly believing it was strictly an upper-body discipline. He soon discovered that rowing is actually predominantly a lower-body sport driven by the initial leg drive. “I might not have chosen rowing if I knew that at the time, but I loved the sport,” Jeremy admitted.
Fascinated by the water and embraced by a supportive local club, his rise was meteoric. Training six to seven times a week and waking up at 4:00 am, he made his first World Championships in Amsterdam in 2014—just two years after picking up an oar—and ultimately competed at the Rio Paralympics in 2016.
At the 2014 World Rowing Championships in Amsterdam, Jeremy McGrath competed with Kathleen Murdoch (prefers to be known at Kate). Together, they won the silver medal in the Legs, Trunk and Arms Mixed Double Scull (LTAMix2x) event.
For Jeremy, the true value of the Paralympic journey was not just the elite competition, but the profound psychological transformation it catalyzed:
“The main thing I got out of that whole experience was… the confidence, the fitness, being able to feel confident in my body and myself again, even if I didn’t make the Paralympics. I think growing and building all that and growing as a person was probably more influential on my life than necessarily the Paralympics.”
This newfound confidence completely changed how he carried himself; the teenager who once hid behind long pants completely abandoned them, choosing instead to wear shorts exclusively.
Landing in Allied Health
Jeremy’s career path was heavily influenced by a compassionate professional at Westmead Children’s Hospital during his adolescence. He recalled a physiotherapist “who not only was a great physio, but she really was a support for myself and my mother… I really felt cared for by her.”
Though he originally intended to pursue physiotherapy, he narrowly missed out on entry and “landed” in Occupational Therapy, initially planning to transfer after a year. However, once he discovered the holistic nature of OT, he fell in love with it.
While physiotherapy targets specific physical functions, OT evaluates daily living occupations in their entirety—from morning routines and parental duties to employment, leisure, and mental health. “I felt like, oh, this is a real opportunity where I can help people with more than just build up their physical strength, but be able to get back to doing things,” Jeremy shared, noting how perfectly it aligned with his own life philosophy of refusing to be held back.
Now a practicing clinician, Jeremy utilizes his personal history to break down barriers with his clients. Within the National Disability Insurance Scheme (NDIS) space, his background gives him a distinct advantage in establishing rapport:
“I think a lot of my clients, uh, when they find out that I, um, not just work in the NDIS but am a participant in the NDIS, I think they, they take that on board as, oh, this person not just knows about OT, but actually knows what it’s like to be in my shoes, um, and to have walked in them. So I think it really helps me build that rapport and understanding with clients.”
The Reality of Practice vs. Personal Habits
As an OT, Jeremy’s day-to-day expertise involves executing functional assessments, modifying homes, and prescribing assistive technology. This ranges from minor items like reachers to major mobility aids such as lift chairs, scooters, and hoists. Yet, despite nearly a decade in the field, Jeremy remains incredibly candid about his own shortcomings and the enduring pressure of maintaining a “stoic” persona.
Now in his early thirties and noticing the onset of back soreness, he has begun evaluating his own home for fall hazards, yet admitted that he does not always follow his own clinical advice:
“I think I’m very aware of falls, risks and how easy it is to fall. And even right now, I do have some falls in the shower. Even though I am pretty fit, I can balance one leg really well. Um, I don’t necessarily follow the best practices all the time that I tell my clients to follow, but, um, I think, um, you just need to be open and understanding of how serious falls can be.”
He acknowledged that being a young man makes it incredibly easy to default to silence rather than reaching out. “Being a man, being a young man, I think I like to be pretty stoic and not ask for help. Yeah. I think if my wife is here right now, she would agree with me that often I don’t ask for help when I probably do need it,” he confessed, highlighting that coming to terms with vulnerability is a lifelong, unfolding process.
Advice for the Journey Ahead
Reflecting on the fifteen years that have passed since his amputation, Jeremy emphasizes that the absolute hardest part of his journey was keeping his struggles internalized. For anyone currently facing limb loss or navigating a major physical transition, his advice centers on breaking the cycle of isolation.
“Once again, I’m going to come back to being that stoic man. You often keep a lot of thoughts and challenges to yourself… But the more open you can be to the close people in your life, the more that these people can come and help. And you’re never in this by yourself. You know, um, even just in if it’s not just your therapist and, uh, your medical team around you, but your support networks or your family members, your friends, uh, all these people want to help you. Um, and people can only help if you’re, you know, brave enough to have those chats and let them know what you’re actually feeling and thinking and experiencing.”
Jeremy’s full, insightful story will feature in The Limb Shift podcast later in the year.
One of the constants of being an amputee is the need to repeatedly “tell your story”. From curious children on the street to family, friends, workmates, and medical professionals, you are constantly asked the question: “What happened to your arm or leg?”
Being a journalist, I’ve adapted to this fairly easily, but many people find it difficult. So, I have begun a process of trying to better understand how we tell our stories.
For The Limb Shift, I’ve spoken with another journalist who found it hard at first to tell even his own family. I discovered Miles O’Brien while Googling my own story to see what was out there. Despite sharing a surname and a profession, we don’t think we’re related. Nonetheless, I found an immense amount in his journey that I could relate to.
His story will feature in a future episode of the podcast, launching in October 2026.
Miles O’Brien’s life and career shifted dramatically at age fifty-five, following a severe accident while working as a freelance science and technology journalist on a one-man-band reporting mission in the Philippines.
After stacking heavy equipment cases in his hotel room, one of the cases fell and landed on his arm. Initially brushing it off as a bad bruise due to a “fairly good dose of denial,” Miles realized within twenty-four hours that the pain and numbness were far more severe.
Diagnosed with acute compartment syndrome—where internal swelling creates dangerous blockages of blood flow—he underwent emergency surgery, but during the procedure, complications forced the surgeon to amputate his right arm above the elbow.
The Immediate Aftermath and Mental Pivot
Rather than immediately notifying his family thousands of kilometres away, Miles chose to process the shock alone.
He confronted his reality by testing whether he could still write and produce stories to support himself, opening dragon dictation software and pecking away with his remaining hand. Recognizing that he could still work was a vital psychological turning point, moving him past a brief descent into a “very dark road”.
He noted that amputees inevitably face a crucial crossroads:
“Are we going to think about what we’ve lost or are we going to start working on what it’s going to be like to operate in life in a different way?”
Embracing a “power through” mindset inspired by Winston Churchill’s maxim—”if you’re going through hell, keep going”—Miles refused to sit on the sidelines, believing that taking time off would have sent him into a tailspin.
He finally reached out to his partner and children right as he boarded a flight back to the United States.
Life Since the Accident and the “MacGyver” Approach
Back home, Miles adopted what he calls a “MacGyver” approach to daily existence, solving each challenge like an individual puzzle rather than looking at the overwhelming whole:
“Every time I was presented with a challenge of how to do something, whether it’s tying a tie or putting cream cheese on my bagel. I had to be the one armed MacGyver.”
As an experienced pilot, getting recertified to fly became his ultimate benchmark of recovery—his personal “Olympics”. By placing a hook on the yoke of the aircraft and managing the throttle closely, he proved he could fly just as well as he did with two hands.
Miles O’Brien flying again (pic supplied)
His professional life as a television journalist also adapted. Though initially reluctant, he appeared on CNN to tell his story, and continued reporting for the PBS NewsHour, choosing not to hide his missing limb. When discussing whether to use a cosmetic hand or shoot around the amputation, his executive producer simply told him, “Miles, we love you. Come as you are”. Miles noted:
“I realized that I didn’t want to walk around hiding anything. This is who I am… I’m comfortable in my own skin and I don’t feel like I have to hide it for the benefit of others.”
A Transformed Perspective
Looking back twelve years after the accident, Miles reflects on his transformation with candor.
While he contends with phantom pain and has explored therapies to manage it, the overall impact on his worldview has been profound. He shared:
“If I would have had the opportunity to go back, I wouldn’t change things. I’m happy with my life and happy how it turned out. And I’m happy how it has changed the way I view the world, the way I view people with disabilities and the way I view my place in the world.”
Ultimately, the experience taught him that reaching out for help is a sign of strength rather than weakness. By leaning into what he has rather than dwelling on what he lost, Miles discovered a deep reservoir of resilience, turning a life-altering loss into a powerful personal win.
PS. We have the same surname, and we’re both journalists, but we’re (probably) not related!!
A mate and I went to the recording tonight of the finale of a forthcoming Channel 7 TV series. It’s all about men’s health. It’s based on a popular movie. It has a confidential spectacular, ending. We had to hand our phones in to keep it all very confidential. We’re not allowed to say who the final eight are. However, that didn’t stop the theatre giving a bit hint of what it was all about outside on Enmore Road.
Conscious that I sometimes share material on other platforms that never makes “the cut” here on my blog, I will start sharing a few bits and pieces here also. These are the tweets, posts, and observations that still seem relevant at the end of each month. Lots of ephemera, but hopefully still quite entertaining.
Feb 4 : I had no idea until tonight there was an “original” unreleased version of the Diana Ross album, “Diana”. Upside Down/ComingOut/MyOldPiano etc. Chic did the original. Diana didn’t like it and had it remixed. The original is a bit sexier I think.
Feb 6 : Just had someone on Crown Street ask me for money. Twenty dollars. You mean two? No, I mean twenty, she said. Weimar republic inflation comes to Surry Hills.
Feb 7 : They really didn’t think this through, did they? Feb 7 : Going through some old photographs from Sweden in 2013 and found this. Given the sub-zero temperatures these (presumably) young men endured to create this, you have to admire their commitment to art :)
Feb 8 : Doing some collaborative work with a colleague in Western Australia. Due to the three hour time-zone difference, she suggested I “take a siesta” and we can catch up later this afternoon. What an awesome idea!
Feb 9 : A friend is setting up her home internet with Android devices, TV and Laptop. “The guy from Geeks are us had to come back several times” she said. His answer was “You need Apple TV”. Dodgy and extracting income or plain incompetent?
Feb 10 : Gong hei fat choy
Feb 13 : Friend just told me she once asked for a medium steak, and the newish bar staff member replied, “Sorry, they only come in one size…”
Feb 15 : Currently researching a bit of the gay and lesbian history of Wagga in the early 90s. This made me laugh. Daily Advertiser 1953.
Feb 17 : Going into work on Wednesdays. Biggest downside? I can’t open the window to let the fresh air in.
Feb 18 : Personally, I hate it when friends and family share news stories on Facebook, especially when they’re stupid opinon pieces. My preference is for Facebook to be a place for baby, pet, and holiday photographs.
Feb 19 : Fondly remembering how I spent my Saturday nights twenty years ago.
Feb 22 : Waiting on the arrival in the mail of a DVD from the 90s. Neither my work nor home computers have a DVD player, and I’m not sure where my old DVD player is. OMG.
Feb 27 : Hey @MelanieTait Having lunch with a friend, @gusworldau and thought you would love this shirt he’s wearing.Feb 28 : We’ve known each other 41 years, which was obviously before we were born. We went to school together in Lismore. Catching up in Newcastle.
In the first half of 2026, I’ll be launching a new podcast called The Limb Shift—a series dedicated to the raw, complex, often surprising realities of limb loss and limb difference. It’s a project born from my own experience as an amputee, and from the countless conversations I’ve had with people whose lives have been reshaped—sometimes suddenly, sometimes by choice—through the loss of a limb.
What I’ve learned is this: no two stories are the same, but the emotional terrain is deeply shared.
🌱 What The Limb Shift Is About
This podcast isn’t just about prosthetics, surgeries, or rehabilitation—though those things matter. It’s about identity, resilience, grief, humour, frustration, and the strange, unexpected moments that define life after limb loss.
You’ll hear from people who have:
Rebuilt their sense of self after catastrophic illness
Faced the “why me” battle and learned to make peace with change
Navigated depression, fear, and the slow work of acceptance
Returned to work—or reinvented their careers entirely
Dealt with the practical realities of the NDIS, home modifications, and financial uncertainty
Discovered new physical limits… and then pushed past them
One guest describes realising they were still the same person—even after losing both hands and feet. Another talks about running up skyscrapers around the world on prosthetic legs, simply because no one had done it before. Others share quieter, more intimate moments: the shock of seeing blood on the carpet because they couldn’t feel their feet, or the weekend spent deciding whether to amputate a limb that no longer served them.
These stories are honest, vulnerable, and often unexpectedly funny. They’re also deeply practical. Many guests talk about the questions that hit hardest after amputation: How do I get back to work? What if I don’t qualify for the NDIS? Who can I turn to who actually understands?
Take three minutes and have a listen to some of the people who have shared their stories.
Sound design by Jacob Round
🎙️ Why I’m Making This Podcast
My own journey began with what should have been an ordinary beach walk. A small cut on my foot turned into sepsis, and within weeks I was unconscious and close to death. I woke to the news that my leg had been amputated late on a Friday night.
That moment changed everything—but it didn’t erase who I was.
And that’s the heart of The Limb Shift: the reminder that limb loss changes your life, but it doesn’t erase your identity. The people you’ll hear from have rebuilt, reimagined, and reclaimed their lives in ways that are powerful, messy, and deeply human.
A couple of weeks ago, I had a grand plan that I would re-commence blogging every day. Inspired by people like Carol and Andrew, who post more regularly than I do, I thought I’d give it a shot. For a few years I did in fact blog every day (or pretty close to it), as I thought it would be a great way for me to keep a track of my life, hoping to improve things. And for a good while, it happened. But then life and work got in the way of things. Instead of coming home, inspired to share some pearl of wisdom or exciting adventure, I found myself coming home, collapsing on the couch, and barely able to string a few words together. Yeah, I can tweet, or share a brief update of my life on Google+ or Facebook, but blogging requires (to my mind), more thoughtful consideration. I definitely have that space when I’m travelling, and in 2017, I’ll be travelling to both Spain and Sweden. So yeah, I haven’t got there yet in terms of more regular posts, but in the meantime, here’s a few photographs from the first couple of weeks of my life in 2017.
