Alaskan Amputee Story of Overcoming Disability

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Alone in the Arctic: Story of an Alaskan Amputee Overcoming Disability Nancy Carroll

Ruth Nickels came into the world the hard way. She was delivered breech in 1958 in Sterling, Illinois, while her father, a Nazarene minister, was preaching a sermon in a nearby town. The youngest of three children, her difficult birth was the first of many grueling challenges Nickels would face in life.

Her childhood was quintessential small town America. Her mother worked at a bank, helped her father at the church and had a gift for writing. "Mom was charismatic and people gravitated to her," Nickels says. "Dad was more reserved, but a good listener, so they were very compatible. It was a happy childhood."

After high school, she moved to Grand Rapids, Minnesota, to study nursing at Itasca Junior College. Soon after she graduated, her father accepted a post with a small parish in Fairbanks, Alaska. Then in 1980, her mother was diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer, and her father asked Nickels to come to Alaska to help care for her mother. Though doctors gave her mother only three months to live, her battle with cancer lasted four years. "She wasn't ready to die. She had unfinished business," Nickels says. "Then a month before she died, dad suffered a fatal heart attack and she seemed to give up after that. She was heartbroken."

Now utterly alone, Nickels says going back to Minnesota was out of the question. Alaska, with its awesome sense of nature in all its glory, had totally captivated her. "I decided to stay in Alaska, switch careers and go into law enforcement. I've always enjoyed patching up people and animals," she says, smiling.

After five years of "bush duty" in rural Alaska along the Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta Region, Nickels graduated from the Public Safety Academy in Sitka, Alaska. At last, she was a full-fledged policewoman.

Her years in law enforcement were not easy ones. In addition to many of her fellow officers not wanting to accept a woman in a "man's profession," the Alaskan natives didn't know what to make of a female policewoman. "Women are the lowest thing on the totem pole to the natives," Nickels explains. "So they challenged me every chance they got." Ultimately, she earned respect from locals by taking a stand when confrontations occurred, usually provoked by excessive drinking. "Alcohol abuse is a big problem in Alaska," she says. In my first missing persons case, I found a man frozen to death, his arms wrapped around a bottle of whiskey."

Nickels faced many dangers living alone in one of the world's least hospitable climates. She has come face to face with a cougar, encountered packs of rabid dogs wandering on the tundra, and watched grizzly bears graze in her front yard. Despite the drawbacks to our 49th state, however, she has also picked berries and wild flowers in summer and reveled at the beauty of fjords, glaciers, mountain ranges, lakes, and rivers where over 4,000 bald eagles congregate annually to feast on spawning king salmon. She has witnessed a winter paradise filled with moose and caribou, wolves and wolverines, foxes, lynx and birds beyond description - in what she believes to be the most beautiful setting in the world.

In 1990 her world was changed forever by a freak accident. She was replacing siding on a cattle shed near Fairbanks when she lost her balance and fell, impaling her right upper arm on a metal feedlot fence post. A severe infection developed, which was later diagnosed as antibiotic-resistant osteomyelitis. When doctors suggested amputation, Nickels resisted - believing amputation to be a death sentence to her independent lifestyle. Five years of incredible pain and life-threatening infections followed, resulting in 13 operations and numerous procedures. The limb died in parts and pieces, Ruth says, and watching it blacken and die was agonizing.

In 1995, Nickels' arm was amputated. "I learned that self-will alone couldn't heal everything. In my denial, I lost everything ... my home, my job, and my self-esteem."

She was left with a "flipper," a 3-inch stub of the arm she once used to aim her police pistol and perform odd jobs on a farm.

Her career was over. She returned home to Fairbanks on a dark, bitterly cold day (40 below zero), frightened and depressed. The city was shrouded with an ice fog, matching her mood. "The first weeks were tough," Nickels recalls. "There was no medical support. Even the library had no literature about amputation." And there were more procedures and devastating pain to follow. A forequartering procedure was inevitable and each setback only increased her stubbornness and will to survive.

Self-conscious about her missing arm, Nickels became socially isolated. She moved from Fairbanks to a log cabin in Haines, Alaska, located in a remote, secluded wilderness surrounded by snowcapped mountain peaks, a breathtaking view of the ocean, glaciers and marine life. "The native Tlingit tribe calls Haines 'Deishu,' meaning 'end of the trail,'" Nickels notes.

For the next several years, her days revolved around gardening, chores, and her two dogs, Sully, a Karelian bear dog, and Gizmo, a pugnacious Pug. "A typical day for an Alaskan amputee begins with chores and lots of them," Nickels says. "Without the luxuries of television, radio, or human companionship, the emphasis is first on
keeping warm and that translates into wood - and lots of it."

Days were all about survival - learning to gather, split and haul wood, whether by sling or dog sled. Wood burns from wood stove doors were commonplace, as were logs dropped on her bare toes. Shoveling wet snow with the consistency of wet cement was an added frustration to the long list of everyday obstacles faced by all arm amputees. She learned to cut her hair, lift a turkey from the oven, make a bed, operate a chain saw, take photographs with her camera, and balance a shotgun on her big toe. In reward for their labors, Nickels and her canine companions enjoyed the warmth of a crackling fire during long nights in the frozen north.

Gradually, Nickels found her rehabilitation in self-awareness. "First, I found a passion in life - volunteer work, which restored my self-worth," she told inMotion. "It is essential to be needed, and volunteer services lead to employment opportunities. You won't find this therapy in any clinic."

Over the years, Ruth volunteered thousands of deskwork hours at the Bethel, Alaska, police station. She also worked as a department store detective, using her keen sense of observation, acquired in her policewoman career. Her efforts to remain employed, however, were met with opposition from employers who were concerned about the liability in employing a person with a disability. One employer released her, stating it was too "emotionally upsetting" for him to look at her without an arm. Because of her high-level amputation, efforts to obtain a prosthetic arm didn't work out either, and tired of fighting the system, Nickels finally retired prematurely in her late 30s.

She acquired a WebTV, which brought the world to her fingertips. She joined the RAGS/Relief Amputee Group and the ACA, and began subscribing to the Cherokee Amputee Support Group Newsletter in Ontario, Canada, and the ARM-AMP, AMP-L, and I-CAN listserves. The education and information she received opened her life and inspired her to reach out to other amputees. Nickels was now on the road to recovery.

In March 2001, her luck continued to improve, thanks to the Elks Help Program, an organization that lends specialized technology to people with disabilities. "I received my first personal computer, which was much faster than the WebTV," Ruth says. "Elks Help made this possible; their mission is to help people with disabilities be all that they can be - to the best of their ability."

Shortly after receiving the computer system, an unsolicited electronic message arrived in her mailbox telling the story of an amputee "tripod" canine available for adoption. There was a photo of a white and black female Siberian husky named Sierra standing on three legs.

"The minute I saw Sierra and looked into her eyes, it was love at first sight," Nickels recalls. "I knew she had to come and live with me."

Sierra, age 10, had lost her left front leg in an automobile accident six years ago. She had belonged to a man who had died after a tractor accident and his parents felt unable to protect Sierra. Someone had been poisoning neighborhood dogs - including Sierra, who recovered. Reluctantly, they brought the dog to a shelter in Bowling Green, Kentucky, hoping to find her a good home.

Lorrie Hare, of the Bowling Green-Warren County Humane Society, called Kris Jackson of Jeffersonville, Indiana, for help. Jackson, a member of the Greater Dayton (Ohio) Siberian Husky Rescue, who has helped to save the lives of as many as 40 huskies, accepted the challenge and turned to her keyboard. By chance, Jackson discovered an Internet site that spotlights disabled dogs for adoption. Sierra's situation went worldwide. Also by chance, Nickels found the same Internet site.

And so "Operation Sierra" began. The logistics of the best route to Nickels' house in Haines were complicated, but not impossible. A fundraising campaign was organized to help pay for the trip and many generous people contributed to offset the costs. Sierra was first transported by plane from Cincinnati to Seattle, then by plane to Juneau, Alaska, and finally by ferry to Haines.

The day Sierra arrived was an emotional one. As if they had met before, Sierra headed straight for Nickels, jumping for joy and planting lots of wet kisses on her face. She was home - ironically, back to the land where her breed originated.

Life is still hard at times for Nickels. The accident has left her with spinal injuries, and the pain is often intense. She is constantly confronted with new obstacles and the ghosts of lost opportunities still haunt her.

She has taken legal action against the State of Alaska concerning her accident and has not received a penny to date. She is still living day-to-day on Social Security Disability.

But defeat is not an option for Nickels or Sierra. Both have endured pain and loss. Both have survived with determination and self-taught skills. And both deserve a second chance at a new life - together.

Nancy Carroll is ACA Publications Manager. You may contact Ruth Nickels at 1paw@bigfoot.com or visit her Web site at: http://members.tripod.com/chilkatbcabin

For more information about the Amputee Coalition of America visit http://www.amputee-coalition.org

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