Half my Life

 On Friday, as I was writing the date on the top of a report, I had a realization. It was the anniversary of the day my foot was initially injured. This struck me odd for two reasons. First of all, I didn't realize the date until I was writing it down. Secondly, I have now been "disabled" exactly half of my life.

In years past, March 11 approached like a dreaded freight train. I don't keep the date circled on my calendar, but I always knew its significance. The fact that this anniversary completely slipped my mind until it was upon me was an anomaly. I can't help but think that forgetting such a significant life date is a sign of growth and a full life.

While I was quasi-proud of myself for not focusing on the anniversary, the number of years that has passed took my breath away. After I did the math, I realized that I had been living with a defunct (eventually amputated) limb for exactly half of my life. Going forward, I will be considered "disabled" for the majority of my life. That realization feels odd.

My life isn't what I planned, but it has exceeded any expectations or hopes. I love my career. I love the friends that have come into my life because of my amputation. I am still helping people recover and move forward- only now I am helping them adjust to the loss of a limb instead of their vision.

It is not what I expected when I dreamed of my future, but I wouldn't change a thing. 

 

Except the phantom pain. I would definitely change that if I could.