Progress over perfection

It’s hard to believe I’ve been an amputee for three whole years. I still remember my first steps post-surgery, A bright purple hospital sock on my one remaining foot and a big metal walker by my bedside, ready and waiting for me to build up the courage to let all the blood rush to the end of my residual limb. First, a few steps to the bathroom, eventually to the end of the hall. Two days later, I learned to climb a step with crutches. All of it felt easy compared to what lay ahead.

The next phase of recovery was challenging, but I had plans for my life, and I wanted to walk into them on my own, so I did the work. Months would go by where I felt stuck. My limp wasn’t any better; I was still exhausted enough after walking one block that I needed to sit down. I didn’t feel like my prosthesis was a part of me. It felt like a bulky torture device that rarely did what I asked. I wondered what I was doing wrong. The truth is it took a really long time to get where I am today, and that is still a place of slow progress, where I limp and need breaks after long walks. My walk will never be perfect, and that’s ok. I have made and continue to make progress not only physically but emotionally, and I’m learning to accept that as enough. My goal was to survive and live a full life. To laugh and travel as much as possible, and I’d say I’m doing all of that. If you told me ten years ago, I would be making leg jokes and waiting in the wheelchair pre-board line at the airport, I might look at you in horror and say my life didn’t turn out perfectly, and that would be true. But perfect isn’t real, and who’s definition of perfect are we even trying to be? I wouldn’t trade my life or legs with anyone, no matter how many they have.

Like a fine wine, I plan to continue to get better and better over time. Never seeking perfection, simply growth.