Jan. 14, 2022 – Bruce “BJ” Miller Jr., a 19-year-old second-grader for Princeton University, was riding a horse with his friends near a railway line in 1990 when he saw a train stop. He decided to board the ship, and Miller was the first to board the ladder.
Suddenly, a lightning bolt from a nearby electrician struck his metal watch, blowing 11,000 volts through his body.
An explosion ripped through the air, and Miller was thrown onto the deck, his body smoking. Fearful friends called an ambulance.
To cling to life, he was flown to burning at Saint Barnabas Medical Center in Livingston, NJ.
Doctors saved Miller’s life, but he had to to cut both legs below the knees and his left arm below the elbow.
“With electricity, you burn from the inside out,” says Miller, now 50. “Volagete enters your body – for me, the hand – and moves in until it finds a way out.”
In his case, the water tried to escape from his chest, burning heavily, but he did not let go of his legs.
“I think I underwent surgery for about half a month or two in a hospital,” she says.
Awakening of the New Body
Miller does not recall much of the accident, but he remembers waking up after several days in the intensive care unit and seeing the need to use the bathroom. Disappointed, he left fresh air, got out of bed, and tried to walk forward, unaware of his injuries. His feet and legs had not yet been amputated. When the catheter cable ran out, he collapsed.
“Finally, a nurse came running in, answering the electric bells,” he says. “My father was not far away. It was clear to me that this was not a dream either [I realized] What happened and why I was hospitalized. “
For months, Miller lived in a burn-in room, undergoing surgery by several surgeons. First the legs were amputated, then the legs were amputated.
“In those early days from the hospital bed, my mind turned to information-related issues,” he says. “What am I going to do with myself? What is the meaning of my life now? I was challenged in those ways. I had to think about who I was, and who I wanted to be.”
Miller later moved to the Rehabilitation Institute of Chicago (now Shirley Ryan AbilityLab), where he embarked on a tiring career regaining strength and learning to walk. manufacturer legs.
“Every other day was filled with a mixture of hope and good fighting and, after 5 minutes, anger, frustration, a lot of pain, and insecurity on my body,” he says.
His family and friends supported him, “but the task was too much for me. I had to believe that I deserved this love, that I wanted to live, and that there was nothing I could do about it. ”
Miller did not have to look far to get anointed. His mother lived with them polio for most of his life I developed post-polio syndrome as he grew up, he says. When Miller was a child, his mother used to walk with a cane, and she had to use a wheelchair as a teenager.
After the first operation to amputate her legs, Miller and her mother discussed in detail the joining of the “disabled” group, and how strong their connection was.
“In this way, the trauma opened up more experiences for us to share with each other, as well as more love to hear, as well as an initial benefit to support all the losses that are going on,” he says. He taught me much about disability and provided me with everything I needed to change my thinking.
From Burn Patient to Medical Student
After returning to Princeton University and completing his undergraduate studies, Miller decided to pursue a medical career. He wanted to use his experience to help patients and find ways to overcome the weaknesses in the health system, he says. But he agreed with himself that he could not become a doctor because he wanted to be a doctor. She could only get into the hospital if she could do the job and enjoy the job.
He said: “I did not know if I could ever do it. “There were no three circumcisers to sign up, say if possible, to complete the course. The medical institutions I spoke to knew that they had a legal obligation to protect me, but there was also safety. The responsibility I needed to fulfill their skills. This was unknown water.”
Because of a long-standing problem, lecturers at the University of California, San Francisco, took steps to reduce the pressure. For example, his medical trips were arranged near his home to reduce the need for travel. During surgery, she was allowed to sit in a chair.
Medical training went well until Miller completed a course of treatment of his choice, the cure. He did not like it. Desire and meaning they hope to find missing. Disappointed, and as his final year of medical school drew to a close, Miller dropped the program. Meanwhile, his sister, Lisa, died suicide.
“My whole family was upset,” he says. “I felt like, ‘I can’t even help my sister, how can I help other people?’
Miller received his medical degree and moved to his parents’ home in Milwaukee after the death of his sister. He almost stopped taking the drug, but his departments persuaded him to take postdoc courses. It was like a student at Wisconsin Medical College when he finished his patient care.
“I loved it right away the first day,” he says. “This was a field dedicated to working with things that you can’t change and dealing with weakness, how it can be with this disease. This was a place where I could dig into my experiences and share with patients and families. This was a place where my life story was. it’s fun.
Creating a New Approach to Palliative Care
Miller went on to complete the fellowship at Harvard Medical School in to the hospital and palliative medicine. She became an orthopedic surgeon at UCSF Health in San Francisco, and later led the Zen Hospice Project, a nonprofit dedicated training center in the care of specialists, relatives, and other caregivers.
Gayle Kojimoto, program manager working with Miller at the UCSF cancer hospital, said he was very popular with patients because of his vision and ability to understand.
“Patients love him because he has them 100%,” said Kojimoto. “She feels like she can understand their suffering better than other doctors. She’s open to hearing about their suffering, while others may not, and she doesn’t judge them.”
n 2020, Miller founded Mettle Health, the first company of its kind that seeks to reform the way people think about their lives in relation to serious and serious illnesses. The group provides discussions on a variety of topics, including needs, ideas, and content. No shipping required.
When the outbreak began, Miller said he and his colleagues felt it was time to bring medical care online to increase access, reduce child care and reduce fatigue.
“We set up Mettle Health as an online business counseling and training company, and we put it out of the health system that whether you are a patient or a caregiver, you do not have to satisfy insurance to get. This type of care,” he says.
“We are social workers, not medical professionals, and that gives us the opportunity to connect with existing services instead of competing with them.”
Having Miller as CEO of Mettle Health is the main driver of why people want the company, says Sonya Dolan, chief executive officer and co-founder.
“Her approach to working with patients, caregivers, and physicians is what I think sets us apart and makes us unique,” she says. “His ideas about serious illness and death and death are very special, and he has a way of communicating and making people that threatens most of us.”
‘I Wonder What I Can Still Do’
Since the accident, Miller has come a long way in improving its limits. In the early years, he said that he wanted to do as much as he could. He slipped, rode his bicycle, and forced himself to stand for long on his deceptive legs.
He says: “For years, I pushed myself to do this to make sure I could, but not to enjoy it. “I would go to a dance club or put myself in a safe place where I could fall. It was kind of cruel and difficult. But for about 5 years or so, I became very comfortable with myself and I really liked it.” peace be to me alone.
Today, Miller’s surgery has made almost all of his work possible, but he still focuses on the positive aspects of his life.
“Perhaps the most amazing thing I can do for people, including myself, is riding a motorcycle,” he says. “As far as my body is concerned, I’m used to having only one hand, and I continue to wonder what I can still do.”
It took me a while to figure out how to clap my hands! Now I’m just hitting my chest for the same thing! “