My new leg is not yet my own.
Right now it’s time is divided between the end of my stump and a position near my therapist desk. There have been a couple of issues that have delayed me taking full ownership. First, I’ve shown such enthusiasm for the leg that my therapy team is concerned that I will over-exert myself and wind up hurting myself.
Secondly, there are an infinite number of adjustments that can be made to determine how the prosthetic hits the floor. Some initial changes made by the manufacturer’s rep wound up inflicting no small amount of pain. At one point, I felt as though I was standing on an ice skating blade. Every time I took a step, the fake foot turned inward, causing pain in my non-existent ankle.
But up until then, the sessions were very encouraging. Right after the manufacturer’s rep allowed me to don the prosthetic for the first time; I walked up and down the length of the parallel bars four times.
"Oh, well, now your just showing off," my therapist said as she watched my progress. By Thursday, the prosthetic was starting to cause me pain, but I still managed to walk about 50 feet holding a hand rail. At the end of my trip, I was greeted by applause from the entire therapy team and more than a few patients.
"Thank you, thank you," I said to my admirers. "Be sure to catch the free buffet and don’t miss the other shows at 9:00 PM and midnight."
By Friday, the leg was dialed back to where I could walk more or less comfortably. The trouble was, by that time I had endured so much pain that I was starting to get chicken about putting my weight on the prosthetic.
But by this morning, I eventually managed to overcome some of my fear. I was able to traverse about 50 feet of wall while a.) not screaming like a little girl; and b.) demonstrating a gait that resembled something human.
Wearing the prosthetic require remarkably little preparation. After taking off the stump shrinker stocking, I roll a gel-sleeve up over my knee. Looking at the vaguely flesh colored object inevitably reminded me of a device a bull elephant would don before engaging in safe-sex.
The end of the gel device near my stump has a small metal disk into which a screw is fitted. When I press my weight down into the prosthetic, it locks into place with a series of clicks. A release button is placed midway up the inside of where the left calf would be.
So now I am making friends with this new leg. So far, I am able to walk along the wall and with the assistance of a hemi cane. (If it turns out that I have to use a hemi cane for any extended period of time, I’ll have to visit my local Dodge dealer so I can score one of those bumper stickers: Yeah, it’s a hemi.)
In the meantime, I’m doing an assortment of stupid people tricks to convince my therapist’s that I deserve full-time custody of my artificial limb.
Because if I don’t convince them, I won’t have a leg to stand on.