Bionic Symbiosis | Nigel Ackland | TEDxAcademy

Nigel was employed as a precious metals smelter until an accident involving an industrial blender led to a severe crush injury of his right forearm. After six months of operations and infections, he elected to have a transradial amputation. His journey out of the darkness of losing his arm and his purpose in life, to reconnecting to the world through an experimental bionic arm is an inspiring story worth spreading.

This talk was given at a TEDx event using the TED conference format but independently organized by a local community. Learn more at http://ted.com/tedx

For somebody like me,

to be speaking here is truly
an honour and a privilege.

So, Niki, Katerina - thank you,
and thanks to the TEDxAcademy.

Thank you.

(Applause)

The next few minutes
might be slightly different

to what you're expecting.

I don't have a presentation

and I'm not an expert
in evolution or technology.

I'm Nigel, I'm just an ordinary man
with an extraordinary arm.

My story starts in September 2006.

I'm at work, I'm cleaning out the drum
of an industrial blender.

The drum starts to spin,

I get dragged inside

and my arm becomes trapped.

The drum stops for a few seconds.

And then, like a pendulum,

it changes direction.

I feel my arm being
squeezed, then crushed.

And I hear the bones snap
before it finally stops.

So I wait for help.

Thirty minutes later I'm still trapped

and I'm getting desperate.

The rescue teams,
they can't get to me safely.

Somebody threw a screwdriver to me.

I caught the screwdriver
and dug myself free.

Once I'd climbed out of the drum,
the paramedics took over.

A week later, the nurses
are removing my bandages,

the doctors have come to have a look.

My left leg has been cut
from my hip to my knee

and a large piece of my leg
has been cut away

and wrapped around my arm.

My hand is a mess - there are scars,
stitches everywhere,

with this big lump of leg
wrapped around my forearm.

The doctors explain
that putting me back together again

isn't going to be quick or easy.

I face up to 10 years of treatment

and there are no guarantees of success.

So I turned to the Internet, looking
for answers, making notes,

trying to find out
exactly what I'm facing,

how it could affect me
and what my options are.

Six months later,
my arm is still not healing.

I take my notes to a surgeon.

I ask him to read them
as if he was reading about himself,

and then explain to me
the benefits of keeping my arm.

Four days later I became an amputee.

Now, during a planned amputation,

a surgeon will leave the patient
with the longest stump possible.

It makes, apparently,
prosthetics more comfortable to wear.

It's standard procedure.

So, following standard procedure,
they left me the longest stump possible.

To achieve it, they cut
through the thickest part of my graft.

So instead of my arm
tapering, it gets wider.

I didn't know it at the time,

but the shape of my stump
was going to cause me a lot of problems.

All I wanted to do
was to get my life back.

My company said I'd get
the best treatment possible.

They had good insurance.

A bionic arm? No problem.

Back to work, simple.

No.

Some small print in the insurance policy

meant that instead of the treatment
I was told to expect,

I was sent to the NHS.

“Standard procedure” is a three-stage plan

and they don't do bionic hands.

Stage one, they call it a passive limb.

It looks like a hand,
it's got no function.

Mine didn't fit very well.

It was five centimeters longer
than my left arm.

Six months later I moved on to stage two.

Stage two is a body-powered system.

(Sighs)

Again, mine didn't fit too well.

It was uncomfortable to wear
and painful to use.

It's a hook, developed over 100 years ago.

And it's powered by a piece
of string and a rubber band.

The end of 2008,
I'm back in hospital again.

Constantly trying to jam
my flared stump into a tapered socket

has been causing pressure sores,
infection and a lot of pain.

They amputate again.

2009, well, that starts quietly.

I'm finally clear of infection
and it's time to start again.

Physically, life is a challenge.

I used to be the provider for my family.

But the strong, fit, active Nigel
that I used to see in the mirror -

he's disappeared.

My left arm is now damaged.

My weight, about 120 kilos.

I need help just to get dressed.

Psychologically, I'm in a dark place.

I've moved into my spare room.

Nighttimes, they're for the nightmares.

I wake up, soaked with sweat or screaming.

Daytimes are for the mood swings -

the massive highs, the crashing lows,

fears, self-doubts,

frustration and anger -

the sudden, raging anger

that I quite often unfairly take out
on my wife and my son.

I lost my place.

(Applause)

One second.

(Applause)

I'm so sorry.

Talking about my wife
always leaves me speechless.

(Laughter)

About the - sorry. There we go.

(Applause)

We'll try and win this one.

About this time I also notice a change

in other people's attitudes towards me.

Strangers often avoid me.

Very rarely do people make eye contact
or start a conversation.

They stop and stare, sometimes
with pity, fear, disgust.

Some will point and laugh.

Some will just yell insults.

I stop going out.

I become withdrawn.

I start shutting myself away
from everybody,

sometimes for days on end.

I'll sit outside, in my garage,

just me and my demons.

Now 2009, yes, it started quietly,

but it ended with a bang.

Bang! Heart Attack. Dead. Game Over.

Or so I thought.

They put six stents into my heart
and sent me off to cardio rehab.

So two years later,

I've been using a myoelectric Greifer.

I've been using it for a while
and I'm used to it.

And I can finally afford to get
this socket custom-made.

One day I get a call from the prosthetist.

He said a company called RSLSteeper,

they have a new prosthetic hand,
they want someone to test it.

He mentioned me,

and a short while later,
I became the first person in the world

to start long-term testing
of the bebionic v3.

So, here's my arm.

And briefly, this is what it does:

I have three basic pieces.

I have my socket,

which is the most important piece.

If this isn't comfortable,

if you can't wear this
all day without pain,

it doesn't matter how good this piece is -

it will stay in the cupboard, unused.

Next, I have the most
useful piece; it's my wrist.

It allows me not to use my left hand
to change the position.

It is useful.

And then, we have the coolest bit.

Now, my socket, like I said,
is custom-made.

I have two electrodes.

One sits against my skin here
and one sits against my skin here.

And all I need to do
is make the muscles contract.

So if I imagine I'm opening a can of beer,

it opens.

If I imagine I'm squeezing a ball,

it closes.

And if there are any guys out there

who can't open a beer
and squeeze your balls -

(Laughter)

(Applause)

maybe this one is not for you.

I have eight different
grip patterns on this one.

So, this is my basic grab.
I can change grip.

They call this power grip;
I call it handshake grip.

I can move the thumb.
It's two-position and it's manual.

It's manual and it knocks
about 10,000 pounds off the price.

So, that's it.

So now, I can read my books.

If I want to do anything on the keyboard,

I can change the grip.

If it's in the wrong place,
the useful wrist comes into play,

and now I can type.

If I'm using my mouse,

I press the magic button on the back,

single click, double click.

The latest software has drag-and-drop,

which is pretty cool.

(Laughter)

If I want to freak children out -

(Laughter)

I sort of do this.

(Laughter)

And if that doesn't work,
we just carry on.

(Laughter)

(Applause)

That will usually get their attention,

but I just let them know it's actually OK.

The reaction I get
from people in the street

to whatever prosthetic I've worn

has always had a very direct
and very powerful effect

on the way I felt as a human being.

Since I've had this, the effect
on my life has been extraordinary.

People still stop and stare,
but it's not with pity or fear.

People tend to laugh with me
instead of at me.

We'll talk and I'll show off.

The best thing - I call it
the bebionic effect -

it's when we shake hands, people smile.

It's a genuine smile.

And I see that handshake
and that smile as a sign of acceptance

for who I am.

Just before I got this,
I was speaking with a psychiatrist.

He said to me, "Where do you see
yourself in a year or so?"

I thought about it.

“I’ll be in the countryside,” I said,

“sitting in my car,

with a hosepipe attached to the exhaust.”

I wasn't trying to be dramatic.

I just couldn't see a future for me.

I was wrong.

A year or so later,

I stood on stage for the first time
in my life and shared my story.

This hasn't cured my phantom pains.

It hasn't stopped the nightmares
and it hasn't stopped the flashbacks.

But it has convinced me that life-changing

does not have to be life-ending.

That with the right support,
the right care, the right prosthetics,

it's a chance for us
to have a new and different life.

A chance to stand on our own two feet.

Like I say, a year or so ago,
I told my story for the first time.

It seemed that my new
and different life had started then.

And whether you realize it or not,

every single one of you has been part

of my new and different life.

And I thank you for that.

(Applause)

And before I go, I urge you, please -

go and be part of someone else's
new and different life.

(Greek) Thank you.

(Applause)

Thank you.

(Applause)

Thank you.

(Applause)

Thank you very much.

(Applause)