I made a guest appearance on Life Matters today on ABC Radio National. You can listen to the audio here, or read below the kind of things I said.
How It Started
I was travelling with friends in Cambodia when I got a small cut on my foot while walking along a beach. At the time, I barely noticed it.
What struck me while I was there was the number of amputees in Cambodia, many of them victims of landmines. I remember visiting Angkor Wat and being transfixed by a group of amputee musicians performing outside.
Within a few weeks, I had become an amputee myself.
I don’t want to get too mystical about it, but it almost felt as though the universe was preparing me for what was to come. I had a cousin who lost a limb in a sawmill accident in northern New South Wales, yet I’d never really thought about amputation before.
Most people imagine scenarios like cancer or heart disease. Very few of us ever think: What if I lose an arm or a leg?
The Medical Emergency
When I returned to Australia, I felt unwell and assumed I had COVID.
In reality, bacteria had entered through that cut and caused necrotising fasciitis. That then led to sepsis.
Sepsis kills thousands of Australians every year and hospitalises tens of thousands more. Essentially, the infection began overwhelming my body. To protect my vital organs, blood flow to my limbs was reduced and tissue started to die.
I knew I was sick, but I had no idea how serious the situation was. In fact, I didn’t even know my leg had been amputated until I woke up from a medically induced coma.
What ultimately saved my life was work.
I was presenting a program for ABC Radio and missed an important deadline on a Friday afternoon. Colleagues knew I’d been unwell, so when they couldn’t reach me they became concerned. They contacted friends, who also couldn’t get hold of me.
Eventually, one of my colleagues, two friends, my next-door neighbour, police and paramedics all arrived at my house.
I don’t remember much. I recall seeing a friend’s face illuminated by a torch and that’s about it. The next thing I knew, I woke up from a coma about a week later.
According to the doctors, I was probably only a few hours away from death.
Absolutely. I’m alive because people cared enough to check on me.
Coming to Terms with Amputation
To be honest, my initial reaction was heavily influenced by the medication.
I was on powerful pain relief, including ketamine and fentanyl, so I was experiencing hallucinations and was in a very strange state. At the time, I wasn’t overly worried. Mostly, I was just grateful to still be alive.
The reality hit me later.
After several months in hospital and rehabilitation, I spent my first night back at home. A friend was staying with me. I thought I was coping well and would simply get on with life.
Then I heard a tap dripping in the bathroom.
Suddenly, I realised that something as simple as turning off that tap now required me to get up, put on my prosthetic leg and carefully make my way there.
I started crying.
Thankfully my friend was there. She said, “James, you’ve always been the person who’s in control and looking after everyone else. It’s okay to cry. Just accept what’s happened.”
That was incredibly important.
The Importance of Peer Support
One of the most valuable things that happened while I was in hospital was receiving a phone call from Limbs 4 Life.
They connected me with another amputee whose experience was remarkably similar to mine. He had lost his leg after a severe infection that began with a cut on a beach, although his happened in Queensland rather than Cambodia.
Having someone who truly understood what I was going through made an enormous difference.
The medical care I received was outstanding. The surgeons, nurses and rehabilitation staff were exceptional. But peer support was equally important.
There were also two amputees in rehabilitation with me. One was a 71-year-old woman who had chosen amputation after years of vascular disease. She was completely at peace with her decision.
The other was a young man who had lost both legs in a traumatic accident and was understandably devastated.
I found myself somewhere between the two: not wanting to be there, but increasingly accepting my new reality.
Why the Podcast Exists
Very much so.
One thing I noticed after becoming an amputee was that people tended to frame everything through extremes.
Either they saw amputees as tragic figures or as extraordinary Paralympians.
The reality for most people lies somewhere in between.
That’s one of the reasons I created the podcast.
It explores both limb loss and limb difference, featuring people who acquired amputations through trauma, illness or infection, alongside people who were born with limb differences.
I’ve spoken with people affected by train accidents, vehicle accidents, diabetes, vascular disease and congenital conditions.
Each story is unique.
One guest, Sean Fong from Mudgee, lost an arm and a leg as a child after an accident on railway tracks in Fiji. Before receiving prosthetics through the support of a Rotary Club, he got around on a skateboard.
Others were born with limb differences and later chose amputations that allowed them to use prosthetic limbs more effectively.
The stories are incredibly diverse, but many of the themes are shared.
Common Lessons
One recurring theme is the importance of accepting your new reality and breaking challenges into manageable steps.
Don’t focus on running 100 metres, climbing a mountain or competing at the Paralympics.
Focus on getting to the end of the street.
People also consistently emphasise the importance of family, friends and practical support.
What they don’t want is pity.
Many guests told me they’re still exactly the same people they were before losing a limb. They simply need support while adapting to a different way of living.
Sometimes the most helpful thing isn’t asking, “Are you really okay?”
It’s delivering a few meals, helping with transport or assisting with day-to-day tasks while someone adjusts to life after hospital.
One guest, Mandy McCracken, spoke about this very powerfully.
After losing both arms and both legs as a result of sepsis, she found that people often approached her differently. Her message was simple: “I’m still the same person.”
She doesn’t want pity. She wants understanding, respect and support.
What I’ve Learned
I’ve learned that I’m fiercely independent, but I’ve also learned the value of accepting help.
Not long ago I was walking home carrying some shopping and finding it difficult. A stranger offered assistance.
Normally I’d have refused.
Instead, I said, “Yes, that would be really helpful. Thank you.”
I think there’s strength in learning when to be independent and when to let people support you.
I’ve also gained a much deeper understanding of disability.
I thought I was a reasonably good ally before all this happened, but lived experience teaches you things that theory never can.
People walk into me because they’re looking at their phones. People occupy wheelchair spaces on public transport without noticing. I’ve even had occasions where people assumed that because I had a physical disability, I must also have an intellectual disability.
Those experiences have opened my eyes to realities that many people with disabilities face every day.
The Goal
I hope people come away with a realistic understanding of limb loss and limb difference.
There will be difficult days. There will be grief. There will be frustration.
But there will also be humour, resilience, friendship and hope.
It’s not a story of tragedy, and it’s not a story of superhuman inspiration.
It’s simply the story of people adapting to life, one step at a time.
And I’ll admit, it’s been emotional making it. There have been interviews where both the guest and I have cried. Tanya Hosch was one. A gentleman I interviewed in Lismore was another. Their stories were so powerful that they affected both of us.
I think that’s because limb loss isn’t just about losing a limb. It’s about identity, community, resilience and finding a way forward.
