Leg-o Master

I received my first prosthetic leg on February 26. Moments after taking my first steps, Ben asked Brian, my prosthetist if he thought I’d be able to make it to Florida at the end of March. Brian is a kind man with a dry wit and an inner life he keeps mostly to himself. His office is filled with complicated LEGO pieces like a huge Star Destroyer (from Star Wars for you non-science fiction people), an R2D2, and more. He also admitted to a fondness for Bourbon—the top shelf esoteric stuff. I like bourbon but I’m no elitist; I’m more of a bottom to mid-shelf type. Most of the elite bourbon drinkers I know are analytical thinkers and/or engineering types—so my over-generalized stereotype fits with Brian. Anyone who can spend hundreds of hours placing tiny bricks just so must also be good at putting people back together.

So back to the Florida question. Brian is not one to be cornered easily, so his answer was a terse “it depends.” Like most people, Ben and I thought that once you got your leg, off you went just as before. We were oh, so unaware of the reality.

A prosthetic limb is a complicated thing, with its own vernacular. You don’t put a leg on and take it off; rather you “don” the leg or “doff” the leg. Using these arcane terms implies there’s noting simple about the process of leg on/leg off. Donning the leg is the most complicated process, involving a heavy silicone liner, multiples of special cotton socks to adjust the fit, and a silicone sleeve that holds the whole contraption in place. The leg, silicone, socks and all weighs around 7 lbs. Doffing is relatively easy. Peel everything off in reverse order and heave a big sigh the same way your granny did when she “doffed” her Sunday girdle. There are all kinds of lotions and potions you smear on your limb to keep it healthy under all that silicone, and more lotions, potions and special socks for your limb to wear after you put the leg away for the night, but only after you have washed all your silicone parts/pieces and put them to bed. It not unlike caring for an infant in that respect, and I am at the wrong end of life to easily adapt to a new and needy partner.

I had two weeks to practice getting around with my new leg. An amputee’s limb changes from day to day, necessitating adding or subtracting socks throughout the day. It is, even in the best of circumstances a poor imitation of the real thing, but it sure beats sitting in a wheelchair or clumping along with a walker. Jen, my physical therapist focused on practical aspects of RV life, like managing steps with an 8” rise (measurement taken from our RV steps) and walking on uneven surfaces. Inclines are generally difficult, so I was glad we were going to Florida which is generally flat. Ben and I prepared as if departing was a given. A few days before our scheduled departure day, both Brian and Jen pronounced me fit to travel, as long as I “took it easy.” So it was on the fateful day of the ides of March we climbed into the RV along with the poodle, my leg and a pile of supplies, soaps, lotions and potions for said leg and we pointed the coach south, six months after my amputation.

Stay tuned for exciting thrills, chills and spills to follow!