From the managing editor, November 2014

There comes a time at which we each will question whether we have the will to survive. It’s a funny word—will. Within it is grit, mettle and an ability to withstand. In nature, instinct predicates survival be it for the individual or the species. Eating, sheltering, breeding are not nature’s desires. They are nature’s needs. Only we humans are faced with the additional complexity of wanting. 

Burdened by intelligence and rational thought, we evaluate our choices and consider the consequences. And sometimes it simply seems easier to die. Can the will to survive overcome an individual’s lack of want? Can biology prevail over brains? 

Survival stories always seem to hinge upon a great sacrifice—some such stories have become legendary. Think of Aron Ralston, a solo climber who became trapped between boulders in a Utah canyon. Ralston survived for five days on the food and water in his pack while dangling 65-feet in the air with his arm crushed. He recorded goodbyes to his family. But when he awoke the next day, he had an epiphany. With his body weight and torque, he could break his own arm—and use his pocketknife to amputate it. Hikers found him staggering out of the canyon six hours later. 

One might argue that Ralston’s choice was only logical. Aside from the circumstances, it came down to this—lose his arm or lose his life. At least there are prosthetic arms. Science and medicine have yet to develop a replacement life. 

Joe Riffe didn’t want a replacement life when he asked doctors to amputate his leg. A paramedic in Louisville, Ky., Riffe fell from the top of a waterfall while hiking. Rescued, hospitalized and stabilized, Riffe learned doctors could save his leg but with greatly limited function. He never would be able to continue in his chosen profession. So he chose amputation. With the right prosthetic, Riffe thought he would be able to return to work. 

And he did.

But policies and procedures have a way of side stepping change. Riffe was let go because he was deemed unable to perform his paramedic duties. 

His will and his want seemed for naught. 

Or not. 

Riffe has taken his experience and turned it into a different kind of survival story—one in which he’s helping others. He has become an advocate pushing for better access to quality prosthetics, and he now works as an onsite medical representative for Amazon. 

Riffe isn’t just a character in some story to me. He’s also my friend. This issue of Smoky Mountain Living is all about survival—and it is dedicated to him.

— Sarah E. Kucharski, managing editor