Chance Encounter

Perhaps the greatest gift of my becoming an amputee lies with the people whom I have met. I must have an "I'm approachable" aura because perfect strangers feel comfortable sharing personal revelations at unexpected times. This past weekend I met an elderly gentleman. Although we only spoke for a few minutes, I know that I will never forget this man.

I was at a buffet style restaurant with Robby, my mom and my sister and her family. As soon as one child's plate was prepared, I was being begged by another to go get more food. With the constant up and down, I didn't have an opportunity to sit down and eat.

While filling my niece's plate, an elderly gentleman approached me and inquired about my leg. He revealed that he was a retired Marine field medic and he thought that perhaps my amputation was the result of a war injury. I have been approached with this question so many times that my answer has become rote. I explained that I was not in the military and provided a brief synopsis of the cause of my amputation. I thanked him for his service to our country before walking away.

On my next trip up to buffet, this time with my oldest nephew, this man came back up to me. This time he told me that I was "ravishingly beautiful" and suggested that I try out for Miss America. He proclaimed that I could be the "first one-legged Miss America." I liked this man, thick glasses and all! I thanked him for his compliment, gave him a hug and continued to pile noodles onto Jacob's plate.

Upon returning Jacob and his food to our table, Robby was ready to browse the trough. Again, this man came over to talk to me. I glanced at his wife, thinking that she might be annoyed by the attention he seemed to be showering on me. Instead she was smiling.

The man apologized for bothering me, but explained that he felt compelled to talk to me. He continued to explain that he was a field medic during "the war" and that he was forced to amputate a fellow Marine's leg. He grabbed my arm and his eyes began to well with tears as he continued to tell his story.

The Marine's leg had been severely injured by shrapnel. He explained that he was working with minimal supplies, and that time was rushed. He doubted that the man would be able to keep the limb, and he worried about an infection setting in if he tried to salvage what was left. The elderly man's voice quivered as he told me that he amputated the limb.

This sweet man has been dealing with the guilt of the decision he was forced to make decades ago on battlefield. He revealed that he has nightmares about that Marine, wondering if he made the correct decision. In an almost pleading and apologetic tone, he told me that he didn't know what else he could have done.

I sent Robby back the table with his plate overflowing with assorted carbohydrates and continued to listen to this man's story. He proceeded to explain the injury and the details of that situation.

In an unexpected twist, the man looked in my eyes and thanked me. He revealed that he always wondered about that Marine, and if he was doing okay or if he was angry about what he had done. He said that he saw me walking around and keeping up with the "little ones" while wearing a "fake leg" and those memories came flooding back.

He saw how effortlessly I was walking and getting around and he knew that the Marine whose amputation has been haunting him is fine. Seeing me, he realized that Marines are tough and that if this "beautiful young woman" is doing well with one leg, so is that man. He hugged me one last time before sitting down with his wife.

I had gone to the restaurant to watch the kids have a glutenous good time. I ended up meeting an amazing elderly man who carried a heartbreaking guilt. For some reason, he felt a sense of peace after seeing how comfortable I am walking with my prosthetic. I am so glad that this kind Marine took the time to tell me his story. I am humbled if I contributed to his finding peace after all of these years. I have to admit that I was walking a little taller after this encounter!