Mitchell

Middletown, NY

Technology

Myoelectric prostheses with i-Limb quantum hands and ETD's, activity specific prostheses to assist with ambulation, and body powered prostheses

Handspring hero Since

2020

The User Perspective

From the point of view of Mitchell Archer

Written by Jordyn Robertson, OT/s

I had the unique opportunity to connect with some truly incredible individuals who are navigating life with prosthetic devices. One of those individuals is Mitchell Archer. His story is one of resilience, determination and a relentless pursuit to reclaim his identity, not just as a person with limb loss, but as a father, husband and a fiercely independent individual. His story isn’t just about prosthetics. It’s about resilience. It’s about family. It’s about grit. It’s about the kind of determination that doesn’t let tragedy have the final say.

I first met Mitchell through my research study, where he was an active participant in my focus groups. From our very first conversation, it was clear that his journey with prosthetic devices wasn’t just about learning to walk again; it was about redefining what life looked like for him and his family.

In early 2020, Mitchell was doing what so many of us were—trying to balance work, family, and the uncertainty of a world in crisis. His wife, Kristy, a nurse, was working on the frontlines of the COVID-19 pandemic. Their two small children were home because daycare had shut down, and as a business analyst, he was fighting the busiest time of the month. There was no room for distraction, no time to slow down. Then, something seemingly insignificant changed everything.

A small pimple. That’s all it was. A tiny blemish he barely noticed—until it turned into severe cellulitis, and then sepsis. Within days, his body was shutting down. Kristy scheduled an urgent telehealth appointment, where the doctor immediately directed him to go to the hospital, and abruptly ended the call. With his wife working the frontlines of the pandemic and two young children at home, he felt the weight of his responsibilities. After saying goodbye to his kids, thinking he would be home shortly, Kristy rushed Mitchell to the hospital where she was turned away due to COVID-19 regulations. Two days later, she received a call: Mitchell was not expected to survive the day, and she was permitted to come in—essentially to say goodbye.

He spent two weeks in a medically induced coma fighting to survive. After waking up from the most bizarre "dream" he ever had, reality sank in.

“They looked like they belonged on a gorilla,” he said, describing his hands, swollen and balled into fists. His skin resembled frostbite. And it wasn’t just his hands—his legs and feet were in the same state.

After two weeks in the Intensive Care Unit at one hospital, then four months in a burn center of another hospital, followed by two more months of impatient rehabilitation, he was finally allowed to go home. The first part of his journey may have ended, but the hard work had just begun.

What Stands Out

That’s where POA Prosthetics (Prosthetic & Orthotic Associates) came in. Cassandra Delgado, MSPO, CPO, the lead prosthetist for lower limbs at POA, was among the first to truly understand what he was fighting for—not just mobility, but identity. More recently, he’s begun working with Kristen Lindsay, MSPO, CPO on his lower limb devices as Cassandra transitioned out of her full-time role with the clinic.

Mitchell described his first visit with Handspring Clinical Services as a turning point. "I wasn’t a patient to them. I was a person."

From the very first meeting, he felt seen. Senior upper limb prosthetist Chris Fink, MSPO, CPO didn’t approach his case with pity, but with a can-do attitude that set the tone for everything to follow. “They didn’t look at me like ‘Poor you,’” he told me. “It wasn’t ‘Oh no, poor you.’ It was ‘Alright, let’s figure this out.’ That mindset that made all the difference.”

One of his biggest concerns? His height. Before getting sick, he was always the tall guy- it was part of who he was. With a 6’2” wife, and his parents standing at 6’8” and 6’3”, height wasn’t just a number; it was part of his identity. Losing his limbs felt like losing a core piece of himself. “People don’t realize how much height is tied to identity until it’s taken from you.”

Instead of recommending a significantly shorter starting point, the Handspring team understood that wasn’t an option. They worked with him to get him back to 6’5” right away—because they knew how much it mattered. "I’ll never forget fighting to make sure I rolled out of there with my 6’5” legs," he said. “Handspring was hesitant at first, but they listened. They trusted me to know what I needed, and in the end, they let me take home the taller legs.”

Of course, the journey didn’t end there. Over time, he had to adjust, ultimately transitioned to a lower height for better mobility and comfort. But that first set of legs? "They only lasted about a year before I had to go lower—but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that they let me try. They understood how important it was for me to feel like myself again. And that meant everything."

Beyond walking, Handspring helped him return to one of his biggest passions—competitive shooting. Before his illness, he was a nationally ranked target shooter, and Handspring knew how important it was to him to get back on the range. That part of him didn’t disappear when he lost his limbs, even if the world seemed to think it did. With the help of a veteran, Rick Cicero, who had lost his right arm and right leg, he learned to shoot again using body-powered hooks. He even signed up for a mini competition. That moment gave him something he hadn’t had in a long time—hope for the future. "They never questioned me. No one said, ‘Are you serious?’ They said, 'Alright, let’s figure this out.'"

"That’s what I love about Handspring—they never told me I couldn’t."

Success Story:
Pushing Forward, Every Day & Looking Ahead

When it came to upper limb technology, Mitchell was initially fitted with i-Limb Quantum myoelectric hands. His current setup is evolving, and he's just been approved for ETD hooks, which will be paired with new custom sockets. These upgrades will provide more intuitive control and expand the range of tasks he can independently complete.

He also recently received a C-Leg microprocessor knee—a true game changer in his mobility and confidence.

Today, Mitchell wears his prosthetic legs on average up to 20 hours a day as he describes it, he wears them from the moment he wakes up to the moment he goes to bed. He’s constantly innovating, building, and pushing boundaries. His goals? To be present for his wife and kids. To play catch with his son. To fly a kite with his daughter. To do the laundry—because his wife deserves that, and to live a life without limits. He’s been on a journey of trial and error, constantly refining his prosthetics to match his needs and his lifestyle. "Technology is always changing. That means I’m always changing with it. Handspring understands that. They know I’m never going to stop, because I still have so much left to do."

His drive to keep moving forward comes from his family. But the hardest part of this journey? The mental battle. "People think this only happened to me. But it happened to my wife. It happened to my kids. My family probably had it worse than I did.” There are barely any resources for amputees, but there are even fewer for caregivers. My wife didn’t just become my caretaker, she had to keep our family running, too. She’s been going 150% for five years straight."

People see him now—up and walking, joking, moving through the world. What they don’t see are the nights spent wrestling with a wire, fighting for three hours to plug something in, only to realize the whole project wouldn’t work. They don’t see the small battles that feel like mountains. When he first got home from the hospital, alone for the first time in months, the simplest tasks became overwhelming challenges. Something as small as opening a bottle of soda, something he had never thought twice about before, suddenly felt impossible. But he wasn’t going to let that stop him. With no other options, he used a bench grinder and used it to get the cap off. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t conventional, but it worked. "Sometimes, the little wins mean more than the big ones. People don’t expect me to be able to open a soda bottle on my own. But I do. And that’s a win."

One of his biggest goals? To give his wife a hug at full height. "That’s going to be a big day. The best day."

Mitchell's Advice

When I asked him what advice he’d give to someone just starting their prosthetic journey, he didn’t hesitate:

Be patient with yourself. Progress takes time.
Never settle. Try out as many devices as possible—find what works for you.
Don’t get comfortable. Push yourself beyond your comfort zone.
Always have hope. Even on the hardest days, don’t lose sight of your goals.

Technology is always evolving, and he knows he has to evolve with it. As he put it: "I’m never going to stop learning, changing and becoming the best version of myself. Technology will keep changing, and that means I’ll keep pushing forward—for my kids, for my wife, and for myself. I’m not done yet, and know I’m never going to stop, because I still have so much left to do."