Views from the Cab

By David Tollefso

Many of you readers out there will recall the dramatic story from North Dakota in January of 1992 where an 18-year-old farm boy from Hurdsfield lost both his arms in a horrific power-take-off accident.

Recently there was an article in the Minneapolis Star Tribune, entitled “John Thompson survived his farm accident 30 years ago.  Surviving his fame has proven harder.”

In my column of April 18, 2013, I wrote about John’s struggles, partly from the book he wrote with registered nurse Paula Crain Grosinger, in 2001.

The book, titled as indicated above, “Home in one Piece,” pictures John on the cover with his dog, Tuffy. The dog was famous at the accident site on that cold January day for licking John’s face as he laid on the snowy ground and supposedly saving John’s life as he was bleeding and probably unconscious for an unknown length of time. There were no witnesses to the accident as John’s parents were in Bismarck, N.D. tending to a relative who had been injured in a car accident.

Following are some details from the above-mentioned Star Tribune article that I had not been aware of before:

John Thompson doesn’t remember a lot about the North Dakota farm kid whose arms were ripped off by an auger 30 years ago and then reattached during six hours of painstaking surgery in North Memorial Hospital, Robbinsdale, Minn.

Much of his memory loss is due to a traumatic brain injury that was caused, he figures, by the staggering amount of blood he lost on that frigid morning, along with all the pills he’s taken to deal with anxiety in the years since.

But the 48-year-old man in the leather jacket and neatly trimmed beard says he can no longer relate to the 18-year-old high school senior who slipped and fell into a power-take-off shaft while moving barley into a grinder.

“I always refer to him before the accident as somebody else, because we’re not at all alike,” said Thompson in a recent interview in Minneapolis.

Nevertheless, after running through a series of jobs, struggling with relationships and enduring years of therapy, what happened to Thompson that day still largely defines who he is and what he does. He survived the accident. Surviving his celebrity has proven to be another matter entirely.

Thompson, who lives in Minot, N.D., rented an apartment this winter in Minneapolis. While in town he checked in with Dr. Allen Van Beek, the Edina plastic surgeon who with Dr. J. Bart Muldowney reattached is arms at North Memorial Hospital, and who has since become Thompson’s friend as well as doctor.

Even three decades on, the story comes readily to mind how Thompson, alone on the farm and without his arms, staggered 100 yards to the house, used his mouth to twist open the doorknob and clenched a pen in his teeth to dial his cousin for help.

Then the teenager went to the bathtub to await paramedics.  He didn’t want to bleed all over his mom’s carpet.

Thompson’s arms today work fairly well. At rest they bend slightly at the elbows; some movements aren’t possible for him. But he can do things like side his garage, paint his house and plant his lawn—all jobs he’s been doing in the last few weeks.

His hands, however, are fisted and must be manually opened, which sometimes rips the skin. He can’t stuff them into his pockets or wear gloves, which means he must shovel snow barehanded until his hands “go dead” and he needs to warm them.

Van Beek wants him to consider prosthetic hands to improve his dexterity. But Thompson says he’s adjusted to what he can do with his hands and doesn’t want to lose his sense of touch.

“I could still improve his function if he wanted to,” Van Beek said. “He doesn’t cope with it as well as he should. He’s got a big heart, but he’s stubborn.”

Just ask Oprah Winfrey about his stubbornness. Her producers once asked him to do the show, but Thompson had already committed to addressing 50 students at a rural North Dakota school. He refused to reschedule.

They said, “This is Oprah Winfrey,” he said. “Good, this is John Thompson. I’m not canceling. I gave these people my word.”

Until he lost his arms Thompson was one of 13 Seniors at tiny Bowden High School, near his hometown of Hurdsfield, N.D. Painfully shy, more comfortable with his dogs and cats than his classmates, he was thinking about a career in music or maybe aviation.

“Then after the accident, everybody loved me, everybody wanted to be my friend, everybody wanted to date me,” he said.

Thompson doubled down on a budding career as a motivational speaker. Before the accident, he had been terrified to talk in front of his classmates; now he found himself addressing thousands at a time. He toured the nation telling his story, urging farmers to adopt safe practices. He visited the White House and worked with First Lady Hillary Clinton to promote 911 and ambulance service in rural areas.

He sank into a deep depression after Christmas Eve 1994, when he accidentally ran over and killed his dog Tuffy, the blue heeler that had licked his face and awakened him after he was thrown by the pto shaft. Tuffy had stayed by his side as he made his way to the house and had shown the ambulance crew where one of his arms had landed.

“He saved my life and I took his,” Thompson said. “I never recovered from it.” His parents, Larry and Karen Thompson, still live on the farm, though they lease the land to others. A door in the house still has the hole that John punched with his knee to get to the phone, but the old carpet has been replaced. When they tore it up years ago, he said, the plywood floor beneath was stained black with dried blood.

And despite his setbacks, he remains defiantly proud of who he is and what he has endured over the last 30 years.

“I’d like to see what would happen to you if you’re 18 and get thrown into all this,” Thompson said. “I’m darned impressed with what I’ve done.” 

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Please contact David Tollefson with thoughts or comments on this or future columns at: adtollef@hcinet.net