Issue date: 9/17/09 Section: Features

Media Credit: Laura Butler

Media Credit: Bobby Vick Colemire credits his employer, Starbucks, for taking care of his medical costs.

On Jan. 3, 2009, Billy Colemire, a junior at Eastern at the time, was awoken by a mysterious, agonizing pain in his right leg.

Over the next six months, the pain would lead to a series of life-altering operations: He would have to have his leg amputated and use a prosthetic for the remainder of his life.

After the initial pain began, he quickly proceeded to the hospital in attempts to identify the cause of the inexplicable ache. Doctors discovered a bone cyst pressing against Colemire's sciatic nerve.

Colemire was distressed, but he never expected what was to come. Upon further investigation, it was determined that a blood clot in the artery behind his right knee was without a doubt the source of the pain.

Doctors made several attempts to break up the clot and alleviate Colemire's suffering, but the pain continued. When doctors realized the rarity of Colemire's condition, the only option left for him was amputation.

He was nervous, but simply wanted the pain to stop. The pain medication he was receiving was doing nothing, and even the strongest medicine was ineffective.

In February, his right leg was surgically removed from the knee down.

Colemire said he never lost his optimism, and said his friends and family have helped keep him positive. He often cracked jokes and resorted to sarcasm about his experience and missing leg.

His positive demeanor actually worried his family early on. They expected someone who had just lost a limb to go through some type of mourning process, but not Colemire: He just wanted to get his life back to normal as soon as possible.

Six weeks after his initial surgery, Colemire was due for a doctor consultation. His leg had healed about 70 percent, but progress had slowed. He felt an intuition that something just wasn't right.

Then he received the bad news: another surgery was necessary for a full recovery, and he would need another amputation, this time above the knee. Six days later, Colemire was back in the operating room, about to undergo another operation and start the entire healing process over again.

Colemire said he was emotionally confused after the second surgery.

He said there were times that he would ponder his past actions, and wonder if karma was somehow working against him.

After spending weeks in his small hometown in northern Kentucky watching television, listening to music and trying to rest and recuperate, he said he adopted a new attitude. He said he realized that crazy things happen, and a small-town boy from the state's smallest county could not be excluded from those "crazy things."

The once-active Colemire now faced a massive amount of free time. The man who used to log 30 or more miles running every week said he spent most of his time cooped up in his house watching CNN and The Golden Girls with his mother.

He said friends and family frequently visited him, and he was just trying to remain patient.

"In retrospect, despite having a positive attitude through everything, I wouldn't be where I am right now without my family," Colemire said.

His family became his caregivers. His uncle played the pharmacist, making sure that all the appropriate pills were taken at the correct times.

His sister Nida played nurse, making sure his leg was properly wrapped and taking care of all his medical odds and ends.

His mother would cook steaming southern meals to keep him well-fed and grounded, he said.

Colemire had grown apart from his brothers, but during his recovery they would make numerous four-hour trips just to be by his side. He was bombarded with sympathy cards and people trying to help in any way possible. People Colemire barely knew were contacting him and letting him know they were there for him.

"It surprised me so much how many people cared and showed their support," Colemire said.

From the middle of June through the end of July, Colemire went through several meetings with doctors to organize and construct a temporary prosthetic leg, which he is currently using. Eventually he will be fitted with a "C-leg," a biomedical, battery-powered prosthetic that reacts to nerve stimuli. With the help of the C-leg, he will be able to run again.

Colemire jokingly said that asking himself: "Is my cell phone on the charger…is my leg on the charger?" will become part of his nightly routine.

Once he gets the C-leg, he said he will be back to work at Starbucks.

Colemire said he is very grateful to Starbucks and its "workers-come-first" mentality because their full-coverage healthcare policy is allowing him to receive a C-leg.

Since his final surgery, a few things have changed. He gets the occasional bizarre look, but he said he doesn't let it get to him.

Some people treat him as though he's helpless, which he certainly is not.

He said his experiences helped him put things into perspective. The small problems people have from day to day become irrelevant, he said, and he is now more focused on the big picture.

"At first it seems like people treat me differently, but after getting to know me, it's like it doesn't matter at all," Colemire said.

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