Super You

I bet most of us wanted to be a superhero when we were kids. The idea of leaping over buildings in a single bound, possessing the strength of 100 men, the ability to climb walls like an arachnid- but, like so many things, as we get older, most of us reconcile that we are of just the standard human variety. More than a few able-bodied folk have a hard time dealing with amputees. It seems as though there are only two sides of a fence they feel comfortable putting us on: 1) where every amputee is a superhero, able to overcome any obstacle, or 2) that we are helpless in a world built for those with two arms and two legs. As amputees, we can find ourselves walking the jagged edge, and impaling ourselves on their expectations.

I can kind of understand why and how mythology of the super-amputee was created. For a long time, the amputee community was tasked with educating the abled-bodied, that despite some physical challenges, we are fairly regular people with aspirations, families and goals. The effort was to provide knowledge and to give a face of humanity to what can appear to be a pitiless circumstance; the results have been phenomenal. Exploring magazines targeting anyone from Aboriginal artifact collectors to Zoological enthusiasts (each of these publications actually exist), and one is bound to find a number of riveting exposees on some physically afflicted individual that has beat the odds, broken down barriers and thrive to achieve nothing short of miracles. From the armless girl who is a leader in her high school ROTC program, to one legged skiers, to the limbless veteran whose fiance stood beside him throughout his recovery and go on to marry him, these stories are worthwhile- they inspire, encourage and motivate. Stories of those individuals help bring a bit of light into the lives of recent amputees who often find themselves blindly grasping for hope in the midst of a dark tunnel.

Who doesn’t love a heroic tale? Hell, we need them; heroes help us get you through difficult times. Tales of the journeys of heroes have been shared since our nomadic protogentors huddled around campfires, mesmerized by dancing shadows on the walls of a cave. In his 1949 work, The Hero with a Thousand Faces, author Joseph Campbell described the basic narrative pattern as follows: a hero ventures forth from the world of common day into a region of supernatural wonder: fabulous forces are there encountered and a decisive victory is won: the hero comes back from this mysterious adventure with the power to bestow boons on his fellow man. I’m sure this journey sounds familiar to many of us in the amputee community. Our world of normalcy, having all of our limbs, is radically changed, and we are catapulted into the unknown. Our lives suddenly become inundated with the thaumaturgical (love that word) world of hospitals, rehabilitation, limb linings and prosthetics. Eventually, we develop a relationship with our residual limb(s), and learn, that where there is a will, there is often a way. When we find ourselves back in the environments from which we had been forced to venture, we find that many are inspired by our ordeal. Witnesses to the physical and hopefully spiritual transformation are amazed at the demonstration of plain old chutzpah that amputee life requires. I appreciate the admiration; however, the stories of those who thrive despite their physicality, can make some in the amputee community feel less-than capable, unworthy and depressed.

CLICK...the sound of my below the knee prosthetic locking into place. The metallic sound has come to mean that my journey continues another day. Prior to my amputation, I surveyed the numerous YouTube videos, joined a plethora of online groups and poured over articles in magazines like this one, recognizing that becoming an amputee was not synonymous with life being over. After sharing the story of how we became an amputee, most of us have heard and seen the amazement in the voices and eyes of friends and relatives. “You’re so brave.” “I could never endure what you must go thru.” “How do you do it?” If you’re like me, most times you just smile, maintaining the air of positivity that they seem to need. Yes, I said “they need”, because I think that’s what it comes down too; at the heart of their admiration lies a bit of pity. Pity that you don’t have all your limbs, pity that you have lost your independence, pity that it’s so difficult for you to find love. Well, who doesn’t have these issues? Yes, being an amputee can certainly add another layer to these challenges, but these opportunities are just part of any human experience. I don’t want to speak for all amputees, but I’m sure most of us have challenging times and situations. It’s important to both ourselves and those we encounter, that we acknowledge them.

I dread the coldness of night and early morning. Awakened by a bladder that seems to fill quicker than it ever has in my life, I hate the process of venturing into the cold to take a piss. Slipping on a cold gel liner, putting on the appropriate number of sox, and of course waiting for the CLICK, all before I can go releve myself. It sucks! There are other difficulties as well: the lack of confidence in navigating an unfamiliar environment, the inability to run carelessly with your child or to share their first rollercoaster ride, because the amusement park (which shall remain nameless) doesn’t want to risk liability for an amputee falling off or even worse, another park attendee getting clobbered, should your prosthetic suddenly and magically pop-off, or the inaccessibility to the few remaining establishments without facilities to accommodate certain disabilities. Despite these inconveniences, I/we find a way to keep on living life. Post-amputation, I’ve come to learn that I will encounter instances where being a one-legged man in a two-legged race will be down-right frustrating. It is important to ourselves and those around us, to have the courage to strip away the fantastical, and mystical, and to deal with the reality, that I/we are not superhuman, just spiritual beings on a corporeal journey. No matter what we see on the internet or in magazines and beyond the admiration, the most important person one needs to prove their power to keep a positive outlook and to challenge is ourselves. The only person we need to impress is ourselves. The only person that should be allowed to set boundaries in your life is you. As you continue your journey of life as an amputee, it becomes easier to let go of the expectations of others, and shift your focus to becoming a Super You. Yep, we’re just human beings...and that’s pretty damn awesome!