Day 3

A warm rain-free walk tonight. I did my same route and feel comfortable with the familiarity of it. I can almost predict when I'll need to stop for relief.

Someone reminded me: "Dare not to compare" when I walk. A tall order. And it's the first thing I do. I know people who run marathons, for pity's sake. And I'm trying to walk a mile.

But ultimately I know, deep down, that comparing myself to others takes me away from myself. When I judge myself against someone else's standards, abilities, or values, I don't own my own. I know I limit myself further by allowing others to be my barometer for success. Besides, it makes me crazy. One minute I compare myself to this person, the next minute to that person. It's much easier and saner to just be myself.

Confucius said that a Journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Well, these are my steps. My limpy, gimpy, sometimes painful steps. I don't think I'll walk a thousand miles, but even my 'one mile' starts with one of my steps. No one else can do this for me and no one else can do it the way I can. I need to embrace and accept my steps, no matter what they look like - or how they feel - as good enough for now. They'll get less painful; they'll get more fluid. But if I don't accept how I walk right now, I'll never improve.

So, from here on out, when I find I'm comparing myself to the able-bodied, beautifully sleek, athletic bodies out there, I'll instead focus on what I've got. One hell of a unique body. And I'll be grateful I can walk at all.

Day 2

If there's a shortcut to my emotions, it's walking. If I want to know how I'm really feeling about my body and my leg, underneath all the daily numbing activities, I walk. But seeing how I haven't walked much in over 2 years, there's a lot that hasn't been discovered.
Today's walk revealed a gem. Not a new one, but one I feel every time I get a new prosthetic leg made: How many times do I have to lose my leg?
My walk tonight was actually good. On my way home from work I clocked how far I walked yesterday: 2/3 of a mile. Given that my goal is to walk a mile, I was quite full of myself and puffed up. I decided to do the same route tonight. It's 3 1/2 blocks to the hill and the hill is one block long. I walk down the hill and right back up again and walk the 3 1/2 blocks back home on level ground. On the walk to the hill tonight I didn't have to stop nearly as much as yesterday. The pain wasn't as bad. Have I already built up some muscle? Murphy made me stop three times to scoop his poop (yes, Murphy is a dog). On the way home, though, the pain came more frequently and so did my stops for relief.
When I had this leg made over two years ago, the intention was to fit me with the most advanced technology known to amputees, the C Leg, the first in robotic legs. But that's just the knee part, the part that attaches to the socket. The socket, made from plastic, fits around my residual limb, conforming exactly (at least that's the intention)to my limb's dimensions and is held on by suction. This is the third socket we've tried over the two years and it still doesn't fit. The pain feels like a vice grip squeezing my limb, gently at first and then the pressure increases so suddenly my only option is to stop.
The fifth stop tonight on the way back from the hill is when I was filled with intense sadness. Losing my leg hasn't been a single event. I've lost my leg many times over the past 32 years. But how did I lose so much this time? Even after the accident when I lost my leg at 17 years old I didn't lose this much functioning. How did this happen?
I have to admit that I've allowed this to happen. If I was able to walk tonight, then I could have been walking for the last two years. I've had a hard couple of years for varying reasons and I can admit now that walking and taking care of my body came last. In fact, my body was hardly considered.
Well, starting yesterday, that's all changing. Not only am I considering this precious vessel of mine, I'm putting her #1 on the list.

My first walk

I can't believe I am blogging. It's pushing my "You're so self-indulgent" button, but I'm forging ahead, despite what my critic keeps yelling in my ear.... "Who cares about what you have to say?" "Who the hell do you think you are?"

Actually I'm a woman who has lived with a prosthetic leg for 32 years. And for the past 2 years and 3 months I've had a very hard time walking. I can walk around the house, the office, the grocery store, but the mall? Around the neighborhood? Pain. And who invites pain? I don't. So I don't walk more than what's required of me throughout the normal course of a day.

But I started a workshop this weekend in which I had to commit to a goal. A Big goal. A Stretch. And while I have pain because of the fit of my prosthetic leg, I still want to walk. I have been avoiding walking for a long time because of the physical pain and because of the emotional pain. I hate that walking is hard. I hate that I've become such a wimp. And, ultimately, I hate that I don't have a leg. But that's usually only when I walk. And try on cute clothes.

So my goal is to walk my daughter to school, drop her off and walk back home. One mile. By February 26th - seven weeks from now. In order to reach that goal I committed to walking 10 minutes the first week and increase my time by 5 minutes each week. I know I need to build my strength and confidence back up.
It's hard to let go of my judgments about this goal. What a wimp I have become. Other people in the workshop are doing 5 or 10 k runs. I'm just trying to walk a lousy mile.

I just returned from my first walk. I underestimated myself. I knew I wanted to walk the only hill in the neighborhood. I took me ten minutes just to get to the hill and go down. Granted, not all of that was walking. At least one time each block I have to stop to alleviate my pain. The pain is because my residual limb (most people call it a "stump"; I used to call it a "stump", but I simply can't do that anymore. It reminds me of a tree that's been hacked away. Yes, my leg was whacked off, but I don't need to conjure that image up every time I talk about it. Besides, "residual limb" has an air of sophistication to it.) doesn't relax when I walk, the muscle stays contracted. The pain starts off as mild discomfort and increases until it's truly painful. I stop walking, allow the muscle to relax and start the process over again. Block by block.
Then I had to climb the hill and walk back home which took another ten minutes. On the way back home I walked more slowly, partly to slow down how quickly the pain returned. "What's the point?" I asked my husband, "If I walk this slowly, does it benefit me at all?" I was embarrassed when he pointed out that I was breathing heavily - indicating that my heart rate is up. What a wimp. But I felt like a winner. I walked twenty minutes instead of ten on my first day out in a long time.