Photos and Multimedia by Albert Jung

She smiled. When others might cry, yell, or show resentment, Diane Holste smiled and explained that her life was only slightly different than anyone else’s. Born with one fully developed arm and the other ending at the elbow, Holste was chosen at the age of seven months to be one of 21 children to pilot the Child Amputee Prosthetics Project (CAPP). Focused on children and their use of custom-made prosthetic limbs, Holste’s program was based at the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA). CAPP was so successful in providing therapy and teaching adaptability with prosthetics that participants were asked to counsel an array of newcomers ranging from Vietnam veterans to preschoolers. Today, 50 years after receiving her prosthetic arm, Holste continues to counsel people, often taking time off from her position as a substitute teacher in Portland, Oregon, to give advice on adapting to life’s many challenges.
Neethu Ramchandar: What’s different about your life than that of a person with two arms?
Diane Holste: Although I may look a little different, I can do nearly everything a two-handed individual can do. During one of my visits to a preschool the students wanted to know not what I could do, but rather what I couldn’t do with just one arm. I let them take their guesses and they ranged from writing a letter to cooking dinner to getting dressed in the morning. I can do nearly everything and gave them a clue that the only limitations with my disability had to do with the opposable thumb. A young boy gave me a smirk and said, ‘Well, you can’t play video games.’ I laughed and said, ‘No, I can’t, but that’s nothing to cry about.’
NR: How did you lose your arm?
DH: I was born in 1961 in Deadwood, South Dakota, in a hospital run by nuns. My mom went into labor and was given drugs that made her unaware of what was happening to her body. When my mother woke up after childbirth, a nun came in and expressed how sorry she was. My mom thought I had died until the doctor came in and said ‘Why are you crying? You have a baby. She’s just missing an arm.’ We didn’t know why I was born this way for many years. Even today, after much education, we only know that during the fifth or sixth week of pregnancy the limbs are developed and can sometimes be limited in growth. They twist-tie off. [Holste points to the twisted lump of skin on her elbow that marks where the growth of her arm ended.] 
NR: How did your family react after your birth?
DH: When I look through the boxes of baby cards I understand why my mom was such a Mama Bear. They read: ‘Congratulations on your new baby girl! I’m so sorry for what happened.’ My mom taught me not to be sorry for who I am. She raised me as an independent person who can adapt to any situation. I chose my claw for maximum efficiency so that I can do daily activities with ease.
NR: How did you use your experience at UCLA to inspire others?
DH: Because I was part of the first group of participants, the engineers asked us to help new patients adapt to their limbs. I didn’t really know what I was doing, but I was happy to help. When I was seven, I was asked to counsel a young lady who had been in an accident and lost her arm. She was very beautiful, grew up in Beverly Hills, and was on her way to Vassar College in New York. We didn’t have much in common in terms of how we each lost our arms, but we talked about how the [prosthetic] arm felt and functioned. When she asked me about being teased, I replied, ‘I usually just beat them up and don’t tell my mom.’
NR: Was it ever difficult to counsel at such a young age?
DH: It was difficult to understand the patients’ anger. I wasn’t angry about my arm because I was born with it, but many of the people I met had a lot of pent-up anger. I remember working with a Vietnam War veteran when I was nine. I learned most of my swear words from him.
NR: How did you begin giving talks at schools?
DH: When my daughter, Katherine, entered preschool I felt a lot of the students peeking at my arm and wanting to ask questions. I asked the teachers if I could talk to their classes and they welcomed me to do so.
NR: What do you teach students when you give speeches?
DH: Preschoolers want to touch my claw and ask physical questions. Elementary school students ask how the arm works while middle and high school students learn about the anatomy and physics that went into creating my arm. It depends on the audience and what they want to know.
NR: What’s the appropriate way for someone to ask about disability?
DH: Look into their eyes. Just by looking into their eyes you’ll know if it’s safe to ask. If you see pain, turn around and walk away. Don’t hurt them any more than they are already hurting.
NR: Have you ever been asked a question that you weren’t comfortable answering?
DH: Usually it’s the way people ask that bothers me. Once there was a young lady in a middle school who marched down the hall toward me and demanded to know, ‘What the heck is wrong with you?’ That really angered me and so I told her that she had no right to demand an answer from me. I made her walk back to the end of the hall, return, and ask me politely. It was a learning experience that she desperately needed.
NR: Have you ever been discriminated against because of your disability?
DH: During my first week of college a boy pulled me aside at a bar and said, ‘I can’t believe you came here.’ When I asked why, he explained that where he came from they put people like me away. So yes, it does happen. After college, when I was applying for jobs, I found it difficult to be hired because employers were nervous about sending me into the public.
NR: Have you ever struggled with having a claw or prosthetic arm?
DH: I remember when I was pregnant with Katherine I visited a nursing instructor. I was planning on taking off my claw around Katherine so as to not scare or hurt her and wasn’t sure how to breastfeed. Neither was the nurse. She sent me home and I began the search for literature about a handicap parent taking care of a baby. There was none and to this day there is none that I know of. So I improvised my way through three children.
NR: What advice would you give future generations of people who have the same disability that you were born with?
DH: Seek out all of your opportunities in the prosthetics community. Apply them in the ways that fit your needs both physically and mentally. Know why these options are good for you and don’t be afraid to interview your doctors. And finally, don’t let anyone tell you that you’re less because of your abilities.

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