Disability & Sexuality, a photo project by Marina Adam
When Marina contacted me to be involved in her photography project exploring disability and sexuality, I was at first hesitant. Not because I wasn’t interested in the project (far from), but because I didn’t think I was ready to celebrate my body in this way. It’s because previous narratives have been pretty one dimensional, with representation not quite going as far enough to see different body types in settings that we are so used to with able-bodied models.
It still feels so fresh, 4 years of acquiring this new body. I am a different person, only for the better. I have learnt so much, with still so much to learn, similarly to the world and how we see disability. I’ve been so lucky with the opportunities that I’ve had, and feel lucky to even be doing what I do playing a tiny part of helping the wider representation. I’m so grateful for all the work I’ve done so far, from a big brand campaign to a small test shoot (often actually my favourite days). But until this particular shoot, I’d never really thought it would be an option to explore my vulnerability in such a setting. This is perhaps down to being busy fitting into previous roles expected for a model with my disability. Be it a sports brand, activewear, general ‘inclusive’ commercials etc. No shade to any of those btw, there is definitely a separate discussion of brands ticking the inclusion box and how bad it is if we are being included in the first place. But I’ll save that ramble for another day. But it was personally just super revolutionary to be seen in something completely different. Hopefully one day it won’t seem so revolutionary, and feel like just another person being celebrated for their sexy human body.
To be honest I hardly recognise that girl in the photo. This was shot 6 months ago, and in this time I feel I’ve grown a lot as a person. I was fresh out of a breakup, and also just mentally a bit lost! I’d like to give her a hug- I feel lucky to have that period of time documented so beautifully. I’ve never felt more empowered as I did on set this day. It helped trigger a real shift in my self growth, massively helping my confidence. I realised I don’t have to always be put in the same ‘box’ every time, as a model with a disability. Instead we too can also explore the many ways we see ourselves through media. It might sound obvious, but it took for a project like this to show me!
It’s so important to keep involving us in the conversation for we are not our disabilities, not just to tick a box, but we are people who have layers and range just like any able bodied person. There is still so far to go with inclusion in the editorial sphere, but I believe it’s finally moving out of just one token category and we’re recognised for being so much more. It’s photographers like Marina who are challenging the past stereotypes. Thank you so much Marina for having me a part of your incredible project alongside such beautifully talented people.
Q&A as part of Marina’s photograph project ‘Disability&Sexuality’:
How has your disability affected your body image and self-esteem when it comes to sexuality?
As I only gained this disability around four years ago, I have been able to experience being both able bodied and not. When I first was coming to terms with my new disability, I remember thinking no one would find me sexy. As I went on my new journey to being secure in my new body, I learnt that it only matters when I find myself beautiful and comfortable in my skin, not what anyone else thinks.
What misconceptions do people have about disability, sexuality and sex?
I guess sadly, it still is not the ‘norm’ in society to associate sexuality and disability together. First hand as a model, I will be cast for many active-wear commercials, highlighting strength and power. Which I definitely love to embody, but we also have a more demure side which should be explored more, perhaps in more editorial form. Just because we do not have ‘normal’ bodies, does not mean we lack the sexual nature that comes with the human form.
In your opinion, is there sufficient representation of disabilities in general and specifically in relation to female sexuality, within mainstream media and fashion? If not, what do you believe are the contributing factors?
The mainstream media is on an upward trajectory many different forms. We now have incredible and diverse people to look up to, plus-size, all genders, sexualities, races. Unfortunately, the inclusion of disabled people is only still relatively new, with inclusion finally growing in the last few years. Therefore, there is a lot of room for more than one category to put us in, such as being more sexy and playful.
What changes need to be made in society to better address and support the sexuality of disabled individuals?
For the people in charge of content that goes out in mainstream media, to not be afraid to include us in the conversation of showing all sides of us. Our bodies should be celebrated just as much as the next person. And to help further our community feeling seen and beautiful.
What advice would you give to someone with a disability who is struggling to feel confident in their sexuality?
To block out all the noise telling you you’re anything less than amazing. Tell yourself everyday how beautiful you are! And sexy! And strong! Ignore everyone else, focus on you and your relationship with your own body. Once you feel confident in yourself, everyone else will see it too.
What does this project mean to you?
When Marina invited me to be a part of this project I knew it was going to be very special to me. As I said earlier, it is rare to have opportunities that highlight sexuality, as a model with a disability. I felt so inclined to be a part of it as I wanted to show myself, and everyone else, that I am beautiful in my body! Thank you for having me part of your vision.
the slow rush
I feel like every time I enjoy myself, I suffer the consequences quite quickly afterwards. My leg is in pain again. In a new way I’ve not experienced before. It’s painful, and yet another physical halt in my everyday tracks.
*This is kind of another leg related update I thought i’d share with you all, seeing as I’ve been sharing along the way since my life changed that day! Well that’s what it started as, but as per usual I’ve nattered on further…written at a silly hour last night on my notes (like my whole life lol). I might open up a Q&A on my stories - about anything from leg to life to work etc etc.
So, after what was an incredible weekend at a festival filled with love and happiness, but a lot of walking - and dancing ;) - I’ve woken up to a blister on my scar. I won’t get into detail because that’s enough info I’m willing to share, and plusss I’m no medical website. I’d say a physical setback is like the embodiment of frustration. I’ve just felt like I’ve come out the other side of a bad spell of anxiety; and I’ve started to feel in my flow- more settled, centred. So you feel good everywhere else*, but then you’re behind a force that’s blocking you from getting around. It affects my day to day life immensely, having to cancel work and plans to rest. Rest is the best form of therapy- which of course requires patience.
When I have a new type of issue of course it inevitably worries me, because I don’t know how bad it will get, and most of the time not in my control. But hey you don’t need me to tell you the groundbreaking equation which is: worry + the unknown = anxiety <3 I think my mind over matter attitude gets pushed by my own self, a little too hard; as I’m desperate to not let any ailments get in the way of my daily life. However, such as times like this, I’m reminded I do have to slow down and take more care of myself; and find acceptance in that. This is a reminder to myself, and to anyone, to slow down. Life (especially here in London) is so fast paced, and it’s so easy to get lost in the rush.
My scar is torn and my brain is tired. Yes patience is a virtue etc etc, but isn’t it so hard to see that when you’re in it!
Now, this all might sound like a broken record, as this definitely ain’t my first rodeo with setbacks… But that’s life and it’s good to open up and it’s important to recognise that although we feel this frustration and sadness, there is always a time when it gets better. I guarantee everyone you know has/have had their own personal battles; and it’s important to recognise we deal with it all so differently. I’m a private person in lots of ways, but I find solace in sharing updates about peg/ mental health publicly, in hope to help open up perspective, and make myself, and anyone else, not feel too alone when i’m in it. Well I guess I just really enjoy writing the blog, so thanks for reading it, it means a lot :)
Ride the wave and scream on the rollercoaster - life will constantly throw us these grenades to test our strength and reflex, which ultimately builds from the burn.
Hug a friend, and hug yourself. Love G x
Fall back/ Spring forward
Notes on my current physical setback, and how it needed to happen
I thought my first Grateful peg entry after a hiatus was going to be centred around positivity, freedom and optimism blah blah. Although I do want to open conversation into the more encouraging parts of life, that might need to be a different post…Right now, I’m needing to use this space as an outlet for my current situation and frustrations; hopefully to shed light on the extremities/ realities of the mind vs. body, as someone with a physical disability.
Today, I am experiencing the worst compromise with my leg that I have had since the acute recovery stage. I have woken up with a pretty gnarly skin infection on my stump (stump is my leg, not a nice word, not sure what else to call it). It isn’t helping that I also have a throat infection as well and I’m struggling to eat or drink anything. Essentially my body is so rundown its not strong enough to attack all these infections, a huge signifier to slow the F down!!! But I’m grateful I am mentally strong enough to not let this all fully get me down, which can only be down to past experiences with physical setbacks I guess (growth!)
Truthfully, it is incredibly painful. The worst part is I can’t put my prosthetic leg on at all, as the socket of my bionic leg pushes against the infection. It isn’t glamorous, it’s painful, frustrating, and actually just really annoying! The mental ties woven into this all as someone who has gained a disability in life, is incredibly nuanced. 4 years in, and I still need to check myself to rest when I need to, as my mind is still trying to push forward. It feels pretty debilitating as I sit on my sofa writing this, I’ve had to bring every item I might need in the next couple of hours next to me to avoid moving around.
My physio would be so unhappy to hear this, but I am literally hopping around the place as my mode of transport! *Update, I’m using crutches and they are a godsend*. Speaking of walking aids, I want to touch on my relationship with wheelchairs. I was in a wheelchair for 8 months at the beginning of my recovery. I became pretty attached and it took a while to feel confident enough to finally not use it at all. 3 years on, and I haven’t had to use it since. Until today, this would probably be the first time I’m admitting I could use the aid. Wheelchairs are incredible, they get those from A to B, who otherwise cannot. My mind is trying to tell me that surrendering to the chair will undo all the progress I have made. But that is so ridiculous because I am lucky to even still be here living breathing!
At the end of the day, we all want agency in our lives. To be in control, and achieve goals you set yourself. I am so incredibly grateful for my body and how it has recovered, I’ve travelled to places I never thought I could, walk on terrains I found tricky, and most importantly, I can dance!!! (this was my first worry when I was in hospital, to never dance again - shows my priorities lol). Today as I’m reflecting with this injury looking at me in the eye, it has really allowed me to see my past 3/4 years as progress and strength. I guess it takes the setbacks to make you realise what you have, right?
This physical set back is yet another reminder for me to be patient with my body. It gets confusing when my mind is feeding off the progression, under assumption that I am able bodied when in fact, I am not. And that is ok! My body literally says hold on a second there, look after me, I’m hurting. We need to listen to ourselves and try find that happy medium between patience and ambition.
I’ve worked on my physical strength and in the best shape of my life, as I have realised how precious your body is and how much we need to look after it as much as possible. I found a gym where I feel so looked after, and gained enough confidence to join weekly Barre and Pilates classes (shoutout to Ellya and Christina for being amazing instructors that they are). I have been lucky that recently my leg really hasn’t given me too many issues, not enough to make me stop in my tracks. I guess this physical set back was a long time coming, I was probably getting too cocky thinking ‘I might have a bionic leg but everything’s fine, I’ve recovered now’. When in reality, I am still trying to juggle the mind/body relationship and allowing for more fallback.
This is a reminder to myself, and anyone who needs to hear it, that not everything is finite. Life is for the ups and downs, no feeling is permanent. We need the upsets to remind us what we have, how we can learn and listen to our bodies, and this ultimately always helps us grow. I am just under 4 years into inhabiting this new body/ subsequent life, and therefore I am the 4 years of all of the highs and lows that comes with it. For the rest of my life, our lives, we will be met with pullback affecting our minds, bodies, souls. I am writing this today as a reminder to myself and anyone that it’s ok to slowdown, good times are coming, we will walk again! Without the bad how can we appreciate the good?
Lots of Love,
G xx
Disabilities and Capabilities
Last month for limb loss awareness month I asked if anyone had any questions for me and was asked a great set which I enjoyed answering, as I’ve never really done that before! Amongst the few I was asked these two: ‘how has being apart of the disabled community shifted your life’ and ‘what are the main differences day to day?’
I thought I’d combine the two and share how it feels to adapt to life as a young disabled woman, but not in the ways you think so obvious...
Pain.
Let’s get the obvious out the way, it’s not like I’ve mentioned this before 😅. I can be in lots of pain and discomfort, and it’s sometimes so random. I’ll have days where it hurts too much to walk to my local bus stop, ruled by aches and sores. And then I’ll have days where I don’t really think about my leg at all. So, the difference in my life now is the way it's governed by my leg day to day, but in a random, unpredicted way. I wrote a post touching on this a few weeks ago, so I’ll save the pain filled chat for another day.
Exhaustion.
One topic to add to this discussion is the physical toll this takes on my overall exhaustion and keeping up with life, something I’m feeling the effects of particularly well right now. It’s a Saturday night as I write this, and I was just talking to my mum about why I feel so burnt out from the last 2 weeks, which has been a particularly busy time work wise. But I’m sitting here, completely exhausted like I’ve either trekked Everest or done a 4-day festival (I know which one I'd rather). I ask my mum, is this it now? To be shattered after not having a day off for two weeks? My mum kindly reminded me of a statistic that we were first told about when I was in hospital: an amputee expends 30% more energy than normal. This means the average task takes more energy out of me than an able-bodied person.
Disabilities aside, I’m becoming increasingly content with accepting I’m an introvert. It's a 3>1 ratio of the time I spend recharging my batteries vs the actual social event. Throwing into the mix a sore leg and extra exhaustion, I do find myself staying in more and being more selective, which my introverted mind sees as no bad thing!
Laziness.
One incredibly frequent part of having a prosthetic leg for me, and something I often touch on, is the link between physical and internal battles that I face every day. It goes without saying: it is always more comfortable to take my prosthetic leg off when I can. This is almost always when I’m at home, and sometimes out for dinner if I can, too (and in more dire times, waiting for a train etc.). But on the topic of staying at home, when I’m immobile with my prosthetic Leg leaning next to me and my silicone sleeve off, I feel unhelpful, useless and lazy. The strange mental repercussions of having one, slightly big and important factor that gets in the way (having to put a piece of metal on the end of my leg to get around...) makes it harder to get up and do things. Getting out of bed in the morning, jumping out and opening the curtains, etc. it's like it sometimes takes a colossal upheaval of motivation just to do the simplest of tasks. The physicality of sitting, leg off, therefore unable be the one to run and get the door when I’m with people for instance. Relying on others to get things for me. Now I won’t sit here and not admit there are times it is in my favour, too. Yes, it sometimes is nice to not be the obvious choice for the post-dinner chocolate run. Guilty! I’m not sure if any other Amps can relate or I actually am just a lazy toad, but this is such a part of my daily life now, so I thought I’d include this potentially niche insight.
Tube seats.
Another thing I battle with living in London is the tube/overground and my eligibility of having a seat. I'm almost always too shy to ask for one, and if this is in warmer weather and my leg is visible, the shyness in me is banking on someone to offer first so I don’t have to speak. After minutes go by and I’ve still not been able to ask, I (probably unfairly), fill up with disappointment or frustration in the people I share the carriage with when no one then offers. A counteractive annoyance which stems from my inability to just ask. In the winter months I’m wearing trousers, so it’s practically near unfair to expect anyone to realise I’m disabled, because I look ‘fine’ 🧐 everywhere else, right? So really it is up to me to muster up the courage to explain and request a seat? But there’s this weird twinge in my head every time I’m faced with a busy train and nowhere to sit, like I don’t want to draw a single ounce of attention, so I just endure the pain and count the minutes down. Situations like this crop up a lot. again being a nuanced side of disabled life. Some people say ‘just wear an “I need a seat” badge’, ‘just ask for f*cks sake’, and ‘people don’t offer because you carry it so well’. I think I've just decided whilst writing this that I’m actually annoyed at myself for not asking, but blaming the public instead. Maybe I should just buy that damned badge.
Physical vs mental.
My two jobs consist of being on my feet a lot. I also am desperate to keep my level of fitness up, so I’m cycling to and from work to do this, which I’m so in love with as I feel it’s given me a new sense of agency that I’d temporarily lost over the last two years. But again, at my mum's reminder, this is going to be another thing that tires me out. And with my brain still acting like it’s housed in an able body, I’m in a funny transition period where life is picking up again, but my body can’t handle all that I think it can.
Truthfully, I think we’re all in our own version of a transitional phase, trying to figure out the pace which works best for us! And it’s okay if we aren’t as up for the lifestyle we used to frequent, or if you really don’t recognise the person you are right now. We’re all entitled to a massive load of mitigating circumstances and need to allow time to let ourselves grow. We’re all still finding our feet (actually my foot got left in Clapham🤢)(too far? I’m writing this at midnight tbf).
But moral is this: life in the disabled lane is proving difficult, but in a more nuanced and specific way than I ever realised. It’s providing easier burn out, (physical + mental). Damned if I do damned if I don’t kinda thing.
In turn, this gives mental setbacks -
I’m not seeing friends as much,
tired all the time,
can’t say yes to everything due to pain, which I hate mentioning because it’s ‘boring’ (it is).
So, I then question my social life, and on more sensitive days who I even am as a person! I want to carry on as normal, but finding the right pace is the current issue. But in true Grateful Peg fashion, I really do see all these new disabled access bumps in the road as part and parcel for all the good it’s given me. Without these life experiences I wouldn’t see the world as I do now. I feel grateful for my disability, for all the wisdom and appreciation of life that has come with it. I’m here, a proud amputee, when I could not have been here at all. No matter what hardships you’re given, we all have it in us to keep going. I’m not saying life isn’t hard, it’s shit at times/ but it makes the better times mean a whole lot more. You realise life is so precious and beautiful when you're faced with adversity.
If you can’t be bothered to read this long post, what I’ve said is: Life is a hell of a lot harder with a disability, but I wouldn’t change it for a second!!
2 years on, and a letter to my Dad
Dedicating today to my dad
Today marks 2 years since I lost my leg.
In that time we’ve all experienced a devastating pandemic which has shifted the world as we knew it upside down. We lost our ‘normal’, and it only now really feels like we’re actually picking up the pieces again. In years to come it will be interesting to look back and see the time that I underwent a life transforming experience in my accident, it coincided with the world doing just that too with Covid.
Anyway I could ramble as I do about things but I really want to highlight the feelings of grief, loss, and growth.
I’ll just say this: I’ve experienced many losses through out my life, losing my leg included. I still have days and moments which really get me down. Grief never really goes, it shrinks and becomes more embedded in you, a part of you.
But throughout these losses, I have experienced so much growth. Loss ignites growth, no matter how far down the line you feel it. It doesn’t bring that person or thing back, but allows us to look inwardly and build ourselves up from the bottom.
Two years on, and I feel like it’s the best thing that could have happened to me. Trust the timing of you life.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I want to share something different and quite personal. I always said I’d be happy to share whatever feels right on this blog, and this seems fit for today.
I wrote this a few days ago when I was really missing my dad:
I guess I’ve just needed to get this all off my chest, it’s been a while.
I miss you everyday, and I would have loved for you to see my milestones alongside me. I know everything happens for a reason. It took me many years to learn that after your death, but I really see it now with my accident and what has happened since. I can’t believe it has been two years already. I know you’re my ‘guardian angel’ looking out for us and you’re helping these incredible opportunities happen with the universe.Life is cruel at times and for something that can be so beautiful, it can be so unfair.
With the 20 year anniversary and reading the accounts of the children of 9/11, an immense tragedy of our generation, i couldn’t help but resonate. Although the circumstance different, we share a certain type of loss. Reading the accounts of children who lost their dad at such a similar young age was soul shifting and extremely confronting. And I’ve realised i perhaps buried these feelings as it’s been so long. One girl who lost her dad in the WTC perfectly put it, ‘’although growing up it was normal for me to not have a dad, it’s hit me now that I don’t have one to share my milestones with’.
That hit hard!
I know you’ve always meant so much to me in my subconscious, like I think my (and my siblings) profound love of music is because of you. My love for Steely Dan and The Beatles is on a deeper level, because I know they were your favourite bands. Driving around in your old beetle car listening to a Hard Days Night, will be forever my favourite memory! And how my favourite place on earth is visiting Granny and Auntie Bevs in Suffolk, because that’s the only physical link I have left of grounds I know you’ve also walked. I’ve always known you’ve been there by our side through everything that’s happened in our lives since we lost you.
I will always be so grateful I only lost my leg that day and not my life. Someone pulled me back that day from the road, and I think you had something to do with it! Losing you will always be harder than losing a leg. I dedicate my life to you, I hope I make you proud.
I love you. I miss you. I’ll see you on the other side.
limb loss awareness month
April is limb loss awareness month, and although it is basically over (oops) it’s never too late to spread awareness, especially with something which is so important to me.
*I want to preface these are my own experiences, everyone has their own story to tell! I want to help raise awareness through being transparent about the everyday ups and downs I face as a young amputee trying to navigate through an ableist world.
Before my accident I had little to no idea what went down when for an amputee. I genuinely thought if you lost a leg that you would just put a prosthetic leg straight on and off you went. I never thought about the trauma, the grief and the frustration that would come with it in the aftermath of an amputation. Some would say it’s naive, but I just never had much exposure to amputees- other than the Paralympics, stereotypes shown on TV (ahoy matey) or hearing of heroic War veterans. I never gave it much thought that literally anyone could lose a limb, let alone it happening so close to home.
I remember the day before my accident I was on a train from Suffolk to London; a man in his mid-40s who had a prosthetic leg was sitting opposite me one seat away. It was the first time I'd ever been that up close to someone with a prosthetic leg. I remember assuming immediately that he must have been a veteran (because they’re the only people who are amputees, right?), and thinking it looked both insanely badass but incredibly arduous to deal with. Little did I know that exactly 24 hours later I'd be involved in a life-changing accident that would give me the same reality of that man. Because there are still a few days left in Limb Loss awareness month I thought I'd help share what I've learnt since embarking on this change.
To recover from losing something so vital like a limb flips you on your head and it forces you to reassess life and start again. As a woman with a disability, It’s been difficult to readjust my place in a world that is not catered for people like me. Living in London, and especially now as we can get out a bit more, I’ve struggled with the amount of walking that is needed to literally get from A to B; whether you’re changing platforms in the underground or walking from the station to the park. Don’t get me wrong- as previously mentioned, I love a walk. This re-found love is because I merely have the freedom to do so again, for which I feel so appreciative and grateful. But there’s a difference between going out for a walk on my own accord (i.e sitting for a rest every 10-15 minutes), and feeling at a disadvantage to the system when I’m trying to simply get around.
I relearned how to walk again in a completely new way. Short of one leg, and requiring putting pressure on the end of my stump (big ouch) and finding a new relationship with balance. I almost always am filled with determination every time I step out for a walk with hopes that ‘today will be a good leg day’, but it’s a gamble. Life with a prosthetic leg means it is repeatedly the main thing on my mind especially when I’m on the move, whether it's going to be unproblematic (and how long that will last) or whether I'm fed up of the discomfort trickling in, causing me to sit down.
When I’m with my friends and family I suppose my true British bones shine through and I uphold the 'stiff upper lip' mentality. I often keep going even if I'm in pain or discomfort because my thinking is I'd rather not cause a fuss (And plus we’d never get to wherever we're going in time if we go at the glacial pace that I'd prefer). Truthfully, I usually don’t mind doing this (and this even translates into when I’m walking on my own sometimes)- perhaps because of this ingrained attitude to just get on with it. However, the mental takeaway of having a physical disability is what sticks, often finding myself wince when I see someone doing something I currently can’t yet do because of my disability (emphasis on currently, as I know I can one day!). I remember asking my doctor when the pain will go away, and them replying that it will never go away but I will simply get used to it. I now know what he means, but I don’t necessarily mind as it has just become a part of my life.
As always there are days harder than others like when my leg is so unbearable I have to take it off as soon as I can. When you’re dealing with silicone (my liner inside the prosthesis) when walking, it often feels like I've got a sweaty oven attached to my knee (really not holding back on this transparency am I). My current mental disposition is when I’m not feeling as emotionally strong and my hot leg getting in the way of any menial activity. Like the other day when we were blessed with some brief summer heat; I went to the park, book in hand, for a nice little relaxing hour in the sun. Except it wasn’t relaxing. Halfway there my leg was so intolerably hot, I found the nearest green patch to sit on and then spent the next 15 minutes debating whether to take it off, as it was so busy and I didn’t want anyone to see. I’m only human and there are of course days where you succumb to societal shame of being ‘different’. Of course the sizzling heat won and I threw it off, instantly feeling better. Well, physically anyway. Mentally I was left with a feeling of being so fed up and was exhausted that this was going to be my reality. I guess it still is early doors in my new chapter of dealing with limb loss and everything that comes with it, and so there's of course still ups and downs (but isn’t that with everything in life?). I’m lucky that the good days usually out weigh the bad, days where I don’t give a damn and will take my leg off on a bench in full view.
Although I’m blabbering on about the hardships, losing a limb is the best thing that has happened to me for how it has allowed me to reassess life as I know it, and I am so f’n proud to be an amputee!! I guess that's why I have chosen to publicly display my thoughts and feelings online, to share my perspective that I've gained and spread awareness of the realities of losing a limb. It comes with so many mental and physical battles that the human body isn’t biologically prepared for at first, but what I’ve learnt is how brilliantly malleable we are and how we can adapt to our situations.
A lot of very kind people along the way have been very complimentary at how I’ve dealt with my accident, and it always leaves me thinking 'but no one knows how they’ll truly act when faced with something like this’. After all, losing a limb does not make you inferior or less of a person in any way (…except for physically of course). Yes, it comes with its drawbacks and life is a little bit harder. But I would never change what has happened to me for the outlook I have gained. It puts everything in perspective, after all I have lost a limb but gained so much more!!!
Some things I think are worth knowing:
(These are from my experiences only and I know everyone is different)
I don’t sleep or shower with my leg on, ever
It’s *always* comfier to take my leg off
I can’t run on my everyday prosthetic as the bottom of the socket would bash the bottom of my stump, that’s what blades are for as the socket is suspended in air
As mentioned earlier, my leg gets so uncomfortable in the heat because my liner is made of silicone. Put the two together, not a happy marriage
There is no one size fits all, every prosthetic is unique to the person as we all have different shapes, scars and sizes
You can choose to have a cosmesis (thing shaped like leg over the metal bit), but I currently love having my metal leg on show
As a below knee amputee, I expend 30% more energy than an able bodied person. This means I get waaay more tired by everyday activities
I still get phantom pains and tingling, where the rest of my leg would have been. It’s the worst at night and often feels like really bad pins and needles
I can only wear particular shoes that are fairly flat at the moment to work with the angle my prosthetic foot is at, i.e. no heels x
Usually a permanent prosthetic lasts 3-5 years unless you have any complications
I can still swim, but without my prosthesis (there’s a video on my Instagram of me attempting breast stroke)
And finally, no, I can’t feel it when someone touches my prosthetic leg. Technology isn't that clever. Yet.
An Ode to Walking
I never thought I would say this, but walking is my current favourite hobby. I call it a hobby because it fits precisely into the dictionary definition: ‘an activity done regularly in one’s leisure time for pleasure’. There are multiple factors for why this has become top activity on the list of things that thrill me, a main benefactor of course being the third national lockdown we so joyously are still enduring which ensues I actually have the time. I practically base my whole days schedule around my walk, giving myself 2 hours of pure freedom- freedom of wandering at my own pace to my nearest park that is.
Of course an ideal situation would be if I was in the countryside with rolling foothills at my doorstep, although with my prosthetic i’m probably better off on the flatter plains of London.. And I guess what a walk in the country lacks and what London is so plentiful in, is the ‘culture’ so rife in a park. A further explanation entails a close case study for which I can just about muster up from my numerous walks. The culture of a London park, or any park, has a multitude of characters and scenarios. The ‘runners’ being top of the chain of presence, followed closely by parents with pushchairs. And on occasion, the merging of the two, with the little bubba going at godspeed having the time of their life as their parent so successfully multi-tasks. I also come across a certain type of breed of en vogue Millennials and Gen Z’s donning effortless outfits, which I can only estimate took them the first half of the day to choose to where out in said walk (because what else is there to do?). I almost always look at them in awe and then immediately regret wearing my slouchy trackies and big t-shirt with yesterdays coffee spilt on it (don’t worry, It’s washed now). You then of course have the cyclists, the skaters, the scooters (shoutout to my scoot gang), bumblers, and everyone in between. And what collectively applies to everyone aforementioned, the ‘I’m so fed up of this bullshit I need to get outside to clear my head-er’s’. I would cast myself as a bumbler, but one with a heavy intention; an arduous focus on my step count. You see, it is only a recent occurrence that I have gained interest for walking, as it has only been an option for me to actually be able to physically walk properly in the last few months.
Since my accident, I truly never thought I’d be able to walk somewhere for more than a couple of minutes. I spent the majority of my time in a wheelchair until May 2020, walked with a stick until June, and then since went through an unstable trajectory depending on what sort of condition my leg was in and what I could cope with. It was only in October when I actively started to go out on walks, proper walks. As my leg started to stabilise, I had a sort of light bulb moment that I should probably make an effort to work on my step count after all those months of well, not having a step count. It started as the occasional check on the ‘health’ app on my phone out of interest, but what then quickly became a low-key obsession. I was roughly walking around 2000 steps in November, with the aid of my scooter if I needed, I was simply struck with a fixation of seeing that number go up (still am, sorry not sorry). I gradually worked up my ability to walk further and use my scooter less, now sometimes never at all. I now am walking an average 4500 steps a day and want to slowly build it up to 7000- as we know its always it’s important to set goals!! I will walk as far as i can until my leg starts to be unbearably uncomfortable and I’ll either sit, take it off have a breather and carry on; or turn around and go home.
I am definitely pushing myself with a new sense of drive, but I’m equally aware to not overdo it. However I’m pushing myself now, simply because I actually can. It is a freedom I was without for a year. My walks this past month especially have given me so much joy, as I build my distance, because I forgot how freeing it is to just walk. As well as physically helping my body from gaining much needed strength in my right leg and build up cardio etc, it is helping my mental health MONUMENTALLY. To have that time to just be in movement, outside *rain OR shine might I add*, either with a podcast, a playlist or sometimes just silence (something I’m working on, as to be silent with yourself is incredibly powerful!! Try it). I won’t enlighten you with the official facts and figures that walking has scientifically for your mood, but just trust me it helps!!! I was really not much of a ‘walker’ before my accident, I ashamedly admit I almost always took public transport over the 20 minute walk (which mostly boiled down to the fact I was always rushing, as I left things down to the eleventh hour and so would just take the fast route). I distinctly remember when I was lying in my hospital bed, on the days where I felt particularly down about the situation I found myself in, one leg missing, I so deeply regretted not using my legs more. I took them for granted. Of course I did, as you don’t sit around waiting for something to remind you when it’s too late, do you? I can now willingly say I love walking, and I am proud of where I’ve come in regards to walking with my prosthetic. This new measure in motion of course is not completely free of pain, and I still have to have frequent breaks to rest- but I’m just so grateful that I even can walk. Pain permitting, I will now always choose to make time for walking, take the extra 20 minute route over the quick fix of a bus, and just blimmin’ WALK! If we can learn anything from the great late Sir Tom Moore, he showed us at his ripe age of 100, the power of walking is irrefutable, raising £33 million for the NHS as he so audaciously lapped his garden.
I guess the message of this post is this: Legs are so important, they get you places. Don’t take them for granted, I now certainly don’t mine. So go on a walk, your mind and body will thank you.
Snow!