Project Healing Waters

Sean Meadows. Tall, strong, dark features, Copenhagen smile, Country boy charm, thick georgia accent, strong handshake, prosthetic legs. This is how I see him now, I just call him Meadows. I first met Sean last year on the Smith River, walking a little wably down the bank by the river at Camp Baker. The first thing I noticed was gait, laboring to balance on the prosthetic poles. He hadn't had them long, told me right away he liked his old ones better. No embarrasment, no akwardness. I liked him immediately and invited him to fish with me. I sensed we had more incommon than just our taste in snuff. I thought of the challenges that lay ahead of us on the muddy sloping banks, slick rocks, and rain soaked campsites.
Sean had lost both legs "AK" or above the knee less than a year prior in Afghanistan. His humvee hit an IED and it shot the bottom armor plate toward the rear, shearing off both his legs. "I died four times on the table. I wasn't ready." Meadows was a combat controller in the Air Force, their version of special forces, when he got hit. He comes from Athens Georgia, and questions if there are any other colleges in the state. He can fish too.
The first day was better than I expected, Sean and I had a good time just chewing the fat in the boat. He was an avid bass fisherman, and a good listener. He caught lots of fish, and did it with ease and a smile. He was happy to share his "dip". When we got to camp, adversity reared its ugly head. Walking up the slippery bank, one of his prosthetics failed and broke off at the joint. Day one, four more to go. Pete, a fellow amputee,(Although you would never notice) was a veitnam vet from Maine, and handy to have around. In a few hours He and another guide fashioned a make shift prostetic sleeve from a pvc rod tube, duct tape, and a some screws. Sean had two prosthetics again, but one didn't bend. He wanted an allen wrench, which no one had, so he could take the prostetics off of the sleves and walk around on his stumps. He didn't like not being able to help in camp much worse than being immobilized.
The next two days he didn't move about much. On the third day he found his allen wrench, and took apart his expensive prosthetics so he could move around on the hard sleves that were molded to fit his stumps. Sean was a much happier camper. He was much more social, and always doing something to help out around camp. He worked just as hard and just as efficiently as anyone with normal legs. He is truly an inspiration. I watched him carry two heavy buckets up in the air above his waist as he walked across camp so they wouldn't drag on the ground. Never an excuse, never a complaint. Sean liked to joke, and understood and appreciated tough love. He told me he felt guilty that he couldn't help in camp much the first two and a half days. No excuses were made, none were offered. Just linear motion.
I am happy to call Sean Meadows my friend. I am happy I got the chance to give a little back to him, and the others who accompanied us on the trip. I leave for this years trip on thursday morning. Meadows changed my life, I hope I had a little impact on his as well. I wish Sean was going to be there this time too, but I am happy to make more new friends. We'll see.