This was published 6 months ago
When Joey lost a leg, others wrapped him in cotton wool. Not Adam
Plasterer Joey Fry, 27, is a connection and loneliness advocate whose bout of depression in 2019 led to a life-changing event. His mate, plastering business owner Adam Sorrenson, 36, has helped him on his healing journey.
Joey Fry (right) says of Adam Sorrenson: “He’s the person who’s forced me to do things when I felt uncomfortable. He’s been there the whole way.” Credit: Louie Douvis
Joey: I met Adam 10 years ago when I was 17 or so. I was jumping in with his plastering crew in Charlestown [in southern Newcastle, NSW] and we met on site. Initially, I thought, “Who is this clown?” He was this loud, abrupt bloke running the show. First impression? Obnoxious. After a while, we started hanging out: partying, mainly. People would ask, “Why are you spending time with this bloke who’s 10 years older than you?” I never saw the age difference. I was a very confident young kid. I had a lot of friends, good connections. I was living a fantastic life. I think he gravitated towards that.
Adam was having some pretty turbulent times at home with his ex-wife. I think I was a bit of a relief for him. We absolutely loved going to the pub and then all types of music festivals, just having this ripper time.
In mid-2019, when I was 22, I split up with my partner. I went through a six-month downward spiral of self-sabotage with drugs and alcohol. I completely withdrew. On Christmas Eve, I tried to take my own life at home. I lived alone in a unit in Newcastle. While I was passed out, my left leg was resting on my right leg in such a way that it cut off all the circulation in that leg, causing acute compartment syndrome [when dangerously high pressure builds in the muscle]. The next day, another mate of mine found me and lifted me up, but all the blood in my right leg had gone toxic. It went straight to my heart, which started to shut down. I woke up in ICU six days later, with my mum standing there saying: “Sweetheart, you’ve lost your leg.”
Adam was one of the first people to visit me. My memory’s pretty foggy, but he brought me a Newcastle Knights’ jersey and said, “Mate, we’re going to wear these to the first game we go to.”
It took me a while to start healing psychologically. Adam and I were at the pub soon after I got out of hospital [in April 2020] and my behaviour was awful. I was very drunk and egging him on as if I wanted to get hurt. He said, “If you don’t fix yourself up, I’ll smack you up.” I said, “All right, let’s do it.” And he clocked me with one of the best left hands you’ve ever seen. I had a filthy black eye, big swollen cheek, blood running down it, but I deserved that punch.
Around then, Adam got a dog, a German shepherd called Logan. I loved that dog so much that two weeks later, I got one, too: Isabella. Every day, Adam would pick me up and we’d drink a beer and watch the shepherds play. That was the start of my healing journey. [Last year, Joey took part in a documentary about loneliness called The Great Separation.]
‘I woke up in ICU, with my mum saying: “Sweetheart, you’ve lost your leg.” ’
Joey Fry
We went camping in 2020 and the beach was a kilometre’s walk away from the camping area. I said, “Don’t worry about me; you go.” Adam brought out this cart, the sort of thing he packs his beers in, and said, “Get in. This is happening.” He pulled me all the way to the water.
Adam was recently diagnosed with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. Sometimes, people find him annoying, but it’s almost a wall he puts up so they don’t get to know the real him. He’s really this big, kind-hearted bloke who fiercely loves his family, his three kids and friends. I’m now in Colorado training to qualify as a skier for the 2026 Winter Paralympics in Milan. I’m excited, but I’ll miss Adam. He’s the person who’s forced me to do things when I felt uncomfortable. He’s been there the whole way.
Adam: There isn’t a single person who dislikes Joey; he’s just this bubbly dude. When he walks into a room, everyone goes, “Oh, it’s Joey Fry!” We weren’t mates straightaway. We did a lot of partying but, as I got to know him, I could tell he was good at covering up how he felt: fine on the outside but not always handling stuff inside.
He’s a good listener. When I was breaking up with my ex-wife in 2017, he brought me back from a dark place. I was meant to go out with him that Christmas Eve in 2019, but family arrangements changed. He said, “No worries, I’ll go solo.” He ran into his ex-girlfriend that night, and things took a turn for the worse. He tried to kill himself.
Joey was in an induced coma. They kept working to save the leg tissue so he could have a prosthetic, otherwise he was going to be in a wheelchair. Because Joey’s so independent, I knew when he woke up, that whole situation of being dependent on other people could tip him over the edge. I was worried he might try to [kill himself] again. The worst thing was, he felt useless. I said, “Nah, mate, you can do anything you want.” People wrapped him up in cotton wool, but you can’t do that with Joey.
‘I’ve got three kids, and they’re fascinated by Joey … He loves them. He’s shown me there’s no hurdle too big, and he’s made me a better person.’
Adam Sorrenson
He came back to work [as a plasterer] a year or so later. The building company made this special attachment for his stump to connect with the stilts we walk on to work up high. He was a natural. I posted an Instagram video of him on the stilts and it got more than 10 million views.
I want him to flourish. When I was in year 1, I moved schools and had one friend, Chris. He developed leukaemia and, in year 4, he died. That was pretty shit. When he was sick, he’d say: “When we get older, we’ll travel, we’ll do stuff.” When everything happened with Joey, I just didn’t want any shit to happen to him.
We’ve been pretty much inseparable since the accident. He’s part of our family and he’s got a base at my house whenever he’s in Newcastle.
My dog, Logan, passed away when he was 2½. Now Joey’s dog, Izzy, lives with us. I’ve got three kids, aged seven to 15, and they’re fascinated by Joey. He’s their uncle and he loves them. He’s shown me there’s no hurdle too big, and he’s made me a better person. Now he’s pissed off to Colorado to do his thing. Which is, of course, just what I want him to do.
Lifeline: 13 11 14
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