LA Volunteer Mike is fundraising for the LA by climbing the O2!  He says: “The LA has given me not only access to the resources that I never felt I had before, during or immediately after my amputation, but also an incredibly rich and rewarding set of experiences throughout the peer-support volunteering work I have done over the past few years, as I have connected with recent amputees, pre-amputees, and people in difficult situations such as those I went through myself a few years ago. Sharing experiences, laughs, advice and emotional, sad and serious moments with those people, as well as (I hope) offering some help along the way, has been, and I am sure will continue to be, a hugely positive addition to my life.”  Read more about Mike below – and you can donate towards his fundraising goals here.

I am very proudly fundraising for the Limbless Association this October and climbing the O2!  Here’s why…

Long story short(ish)…. 

• June 2017 – routine eye test. “No change in your prescription, Mr Philpott, but some worrying bleeding at the back of your eyes; you should see your GP as soon as possible”. Oh.
• July 2017 – blood and urine samples, GP appointment, and then the, in all honesty, expected “You’re clearly diabetic, Mike”. More… Oh. 
  • The same appointment – “I’ll prescribe Metformin immediately; however, I know you’re off on holiday with your mates soon so don’t worry overly for now, but when you get back we need to discuss some serious lifestyle changes”. Uh Oh.
• August 2017 – Acting daft and not thinking on said holiday, wandering barefoot around the beach and being careless. Result… never to be identified object penetrating my right foot and causing an infection that made me feel like I was having the worst bout of flu in my whole life, without at that point realising that my foot resembled (and probably smelt like) a stinking and stagnant brown swamp. Four days of a (surprisingly) still good friend changing my bed sheets and mopping my fevered brow and then somehow managing to get me to the flight home. Literally falling off the plane at Gatwick and ending up immediately in A&E with sepsis at the Royal Sussex County Hospital. Oh really, really OHHH!
• September 2017 – Emergency life-saving operation to remove two toes and half of the bottom of my right foot; and a diagnosis of late-onset Type 1 Diabetes followed by several months in hospital whilst the infection that had spread unflinchingly up my right leg staunchly refused to heal, and then eventually, after weeks of IV antibiotics had worked their futile magic, I got back home. 

You get the picture… I spent the next 12 months in a surgical boot, walking awkwardly with crutches, with thrice-weekly visits to Outpatients for dressing and bandage changing, occasional short breaks in various other far-flung hospitals across Sussex for skin grafts, additional bone surgery and other worthless attempts to make it all piece itself together again, but it didn’t happen.

Becoming an Amputee

Somewhere around Autumn of 2018 the infection got into the metatarsals. Another 12 months (in occasionally newly refreshed surgical boots, including a period of wearing two of the damned things after my now hugely overused left foot succumbed to a stress fracture) of continual decline followed, with daily quadruple doses of industrial-strength antibiotics, feeling increasingly nauseous and ill, and 3 stones of weight loss (at least there was one positive 😊). And to be fair, I built up such a good rapport with the poor bloke who was still fastidiously changing the stinking fetid dressings on my foot three times a week that I should probably include him in my will. 

By August 2019 it became fairly clear that not much was improving. Infection markers in blood tests began creeping upwards, and it became more and more obvious where this was heading. By the time amputation was put on the table, I was pretty much begging my consultant to do it there and then, as it was fairly obviously the only way forward for me. 

So, in that respect, I consider myself a lucky amputee. I’d had the shock and the pain and the suffering, and by this time, amputation honestly felt like it would be a hugely relieving and positive life-changer. And frankly, it was. But not without its own challenges, as any amputee will know, because in my case it may well have been positive, but in no way could I say it was anything other than life-changing. 

It wasn’t without its short-term challenges. All amputees, especially, I guess, leg amputees in their possibly sudden wheelchair-bound immediate existence, will recognise the immediate impact of the surgery, the recovery (both physical and mental) and the enormity of the upcoming life adaptations that will be required. But I was lucky. Within 3 months of surgery, I was walking proudly (albeit tentatively at first), having passed my Sussex Rehab Centre Prosthetic Proficiency Test and been granted full custody of a new NHS-supplied leg. My freedom was restored; I felt liberated (and importantly, very well) after two years of decline, and I vowed to make whatever I wanted to happen happen, as I set about resuming my former two-limbed life where it had been left off in 2017. 

And two weeks later the COVID lockdown started, and I was confined to home for months 🙄. Still, that passed too…

The Limbless Association

BUT BUT BUT all the way through this process, particularly from mid-2018 onwards when it became increasingly obvious that losing my leg was a distinct possibility, I struggled, and really struggled, to get any support or help. I had a very matter-of-fact appointment with a consultant at the local rehab centre (with whom I haven’t had any contact since) who told me very assuredly (but equally not very helpfully) that it “should all be fine” (or unhelpful phrases to that effect), and I looked around locally for peer support groups, amputee groups, or frankly ANYONE I could talk to for the mental adjustment help I knew I needed, and also some form of life experience that might in some way prepare me for what I knew was about to happen. But I found nothing.

And then one night, post-amputation, post-lockdown, and back in the real world when I was deliberately and quite aggressively setting out to regain my former two-legged existence whilst selling merch at a gig and swilling far more beer than would have been appropriate in the context of that “lifestyle chat” with my GP (I think in Leeds, but that’s irrelevant), I ended up in conversation with a man that I now consider to be a very close and special friend and whose worldviews, general outlook on life and sense of humour broadly match mine. He’s also a very good drummer (in case he’s reading this 🙄), but more importantly he’s also a former volunteer worker, and on this occasion asked me in all seriousness if I’d considered volunteering for peer support work with other amputees as he thought I’d probably be able to do a very worthwhile job. He made the important point that he thought I would probably get a lot out of it myself, and that turned out to be 100% right.

Another Internet trawl followed, and somewhere, out of nowhere, miracle of miracles, the Limbless Association appeared. Where the hell had these people been in 2018 when I really needed to talk to someone like them? (No matter, that’s a “communications issue” that has now been corrected at the Sussex Rehab Centre 😀) But the point is I was instantly delighted to suddenly see the wonderfully rich and comprehensive set of services and support that was available – to amputees and those around amputees – at the click of a button or on the end of a phone. I joined immediately and signed up for the LA “Volunteer Visitor” programme almost just as immediately. And importantly, the fundraising that the LA has received in the past few years has enabled a huge extension of their overall footprint, the increasingly wide and diverse set of volunteer and support programmes they can offer, and their overall visibility in a society where limb amputation is becoming more and more widespread.

The LA has given me not only access to the resources that I never felt I had before, during or immediately after my amputation, but also an incredibly rich and rewarding set of experiences throughout the peer-support volunteering work I have done over the past few years, as I have connected with recent amputees, pre-amputees, and people in difficult situations such as those I went through myself a few years ago. Sharing experiences, laughs, advice and emotional, sad and serious moments with those people, as well (I hope) as offering some help along the way has been, and I am sure will continue to be, a hugely positive addition to my life.

Why The O2?

Well, every now and then I like to take on some mildly crazy challenge of some sort or another for charity fundraising purposes, and I’d already had it in mind that the next one really should be for the LA, who, like any other charity, need all the funding help they can get. But unlike any other charity (with the possible exception of one other, who I also have close personal ties with), it is one that I fairly obviously have a very close affinity to.

And then the LA gave me this opportunity… 

Climb the roof of the O2? Bring it on! 

I’m a big (very big) gig-goer, and my type of venue is, broadly speaking, a sweaty underground Soho (or provincial equivalent) basement. But I’m not averse to big concerts, and I have indeed ventured inside the O2 three times (in 2001 during the somewhat bizarre Millennium Dome Exhibition, and more recently for two different shows – Arcade Fire and Wolf Alice, since you ask). So I can’t wait to see it from the roof instead! Feels like another amputee achievement for me to tick off and be proud of, so I’m sure as hell looking forward to getting up there… using whatever it takes.

And finally, it’s great that this year’s climb is being supported by Hodge Jones & Allen too; they’ve joined with the LA in Championing Lives Beyond Limb Loss, which is vitally important.