Whatever Happened To John Thompson, The ND Farm Kid Who Had His Arms Ripped Off In A 1992 Farm Accident?

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John Thompson has few memories of the young North Dakota farm boy who had his limbs severed by an auger and then reattached in six hours of painful surgery in Robbinsdale 31 years ago.

He believes that his astonishing blood loss on that frigid morning in January 1992, together with all the medications he's used to treat anxiety in the years following, contributed to his traumatic brain injury, which is the main reason for his memory loss.

The 18-year-old high school senior who slipped and fell into a power takeoff shaft while moving barley into a grinder, making him, in a "ghastly way," as the Los Angeles Times put it, "an American hero," claims the 49-year-old man in the leather jacket and neatly trimmed beard, that he can no longer relate to.

"I always refer to him before the accident as somebody else, because we're not at all alike," said Thompson in a recent interview in Minneapolis.

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Despite this, what occurred to Thompson that January day has continued to shape who he is and what he does despite a string of jobs, relationship issues, and years of treatment. He made it through the mishap. It has turned out to be quite different for him to survive due to his fame.

"I keep trying to get away from it, but I have nowhere else to go, so I just keep going back to it. I can't find anything else," he said. "I try doing other things and they just haven't worked out. It always comes back to people knowing me and wanting to use me."

Thompson, a resident of Minot, North Dakota, stayed in a Minneapolis apartment this winter. While in town, he visited Dr. Allen Van Beek, an Edina plastic surgeon who had previously worked with Dr. J. Bart Muldowney to reattach Thompson's arms at North Memorial Hospital and who has subsequently become both his friend and a medical professional.

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Even now, more than three decades later, it's easy to recall how Thompson, a lone farmer without arms, limped 100 yards to the house, used his mouth to turn the knob, and clenched a pen between his teeth to call his cousin for assistance.

The teen then went to the bathroom to wait for the ambulance. He didn't want to let his blood ruin his mother's carpet.

"That's what made that story so vivid to everybody," said Van Beek, who still performs microsurgery. "In Singapore, I was introduced as the guy who put the arms back on that farm kid. Patients ask me about that story to this day."

Today, Thompson's arms function reasonably well. Some actions are not possible for him because of how little bent their elbows are at rest. 

Grand Forks Herald file photo

He can, however, do things like side his garage, paint his house, and plant his lawn, all of which he has been doing over the past few weeks.

However, his fisted hands require manual opening, which can sometimes shred the flesh.

He is unable to conceal them in his pockets or wear gloves, so he must shovel snow without gloves until his hands "go dead" and he needs to warm them up.

Van Beek suggests that he think about getting prosthetic hands to increase his dexterity. 

Submitted photo

However, Thompson claims he has gotten used to using his hands for what they are capable of and doesn't want to lose his sense of touch.

"I could still improve his function if he wanted to," Van Beek said. "He doesn't cope with it as well as he should. He's got a big heart, but he's stubborn."

Just ask Oprah Winfrey about his stubbornness. When her producers once asked him to appear on the program, Thompson declined because he had already committed to speaking to 50 pupils at a remote North Dakota school. He insisted on keeping the original time.

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"They said, 'This is Oprah Winfrey,' " he said. "Good, this is John Thompson. I'm not canceling. I gave these people my word."

Nothing pleases Thompson more than working on his property, eating barbecue with his family, and singing karaoke, according to Jennifer Weigel, a paralegal in Minot and a close friend of his. 

When a friend once suggested playing pool with one hand behind his back, he refused since he detests being treated differently.

"But he likes people to hear his story," Weigel said. "It's kind of therapeutic for him. His accident serves as proof that he can make it through things."

His senior prom was featured in People magazine, and the Twins asked him to sing the national anthem before a game at the Metrodome. His choice of the University of Mary in Bismarck, North Dakota—about 85 miles away from his home—after receiving scholarship offers from various universities. 

However, he decided to leave school because university officials forbade him from speaking in front of groups because, in his words, "if I said something wrong it would make the school look bad."

Thompson increased his focus on pursuing a promising career as a motivational speaker.

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He was frightened to speak in front of his classmates before the disaster; now he was addressing thousands of people at once. He went around the country sharing his experiences and asking farmers to use safe techniques. To promote 911 and ambulance service in rural regions, he went to the White House and collaborated with First Lady Hillary Clinton.

Additionally, he was honest about his own difficulties and the advantages of counseling.

"Look at all the things that have been written about me — you know, 'Too tough to die.' I had to live up to that stuff, and nobody can," Thompson said. "It's OK to break. It's OK to ask for help. And that's why I pushed so hard and talked so much about mental stuff."

After accidentally killing his dog Tuffy on Christmas Eve 1994—the blue heeler who had kissed his face and roused him after being flung by the takeoff shaft—he fell into deep despair. Tuffy had accompanied him on his journey to the residence and had shown the ambulance personnel where one of his arms had fallen.

"He saved my life and I took his," Thompson said. "I never recovered from it."

Weigel first met Thompson when he went to see her after she had her own severed arm repaired. A few years later, they were singing at the same karaoke bars. Many times when Thompson felt sad or dejected, they would talk.

"We just kind of keep each other in check," she said.

Thompson declined a number of possibilities because he was speaking or writing "Home in One Piece," his book that was published in 2001. He declined an invitation to appear before Congress and a job offer as a reporter for Minot TV. While working as a real estate agent for three years, he encountered difficulties; once, the house was not heated, and his hands were too cold to wield a pen.

The majority of the costs associated with the accident were covered by health insurance, but Thompson sued his father in 1997 to recover the family's property insurance against the maker of the farm machinery that had injured him. This was their idea. They were unsuccessful in court because Thompson was a relative rather than an agricultural worker. He said that it was only later that he learned that his attorney had rejected a settlement proposal.

Due to a money manager who he claims wasted it in the market, the majority of the $750,000 in contributions, investments, and income he amassed is no longer on his own. His primary source of income is state and federal disability benefits, which place a cap on how much he may make without jeopardizing his eligibility.

Despite leasing the land to others, Larry and Karen Thompson, his parents, still reside on the farm. The hole that John knocked on a door with his knee to reach the phone is still visible, but the previous carpet has been changed. He claimed that when it was torn down many years ago, the plywood floor underneath was covered in dried blood stains.

Thompson wants to write a children's book with a three-legged dog as the main character. He really wants to record a song and perform more. He had intended to sell his home in Minot before COVID-19 and purchase a condo in Minneapolis, where he said no one knew him.

He still desires to accomplish that. He always identifies himself as JT when he meets someone new.

In spite of his difficulties, he continues to be resolutely proud of who he is and what he has been through over the past 31 years.

"I'd like to see what would happen to you if you're 18 and you get thrown into all this," Thompson said. "I'm damned impressed with what I've done."