A Lover's Lament

She rolls her beautiful eyes, and that smile, the one that still makes my heart race, sits perfectly on her face. This journey has not been easy, but with Katie by my side, I’ve learned to fight harder than I ever thought possible. And now with little Jax … God, how that boy has changed me.

As if he knows his dad is thinking about him, he squeals with excitement, throwing his tiny little hands into the air. Katie pulls him tighter into her arms and sits back in her chair. She rocks him sweetly back and forth, his delicate body nestling comfortably against her chest.

He has silky, light brown hair, and each day it looks more like he got his mother’s. I thank the Lord for that. Not that I didn’t like my hair, but you just can’t beat those beautiful locks she has, which are currently held back by a hair tie and falling gracefully down one shoulder.

Just as I catch myself fawning over my beautiful wife, the door swings open and Tom, my prosthetist, comes barreling in, his arms clutching two prosthetic legs … my legs. The sight of them stirs me in my seat.

Tom sets each leg down in front of me and wipes the sweat from his forehead. He’s a heavyset guy, the teddy bear type, and it’s fitting because he is one of the kindest personnel I’ve encountered at this place. The guy genuinely cares about his patients, and it’s made this painfully long wait a little easier. Excitement shines in his eyes, but it pales in comparison to the feeling that overwhelms my body right now. My ridiculous smile must be contagious, because seated just across from me is Katie smiling back so wide my heart might explode at the sight of it. Between us are two bars about waist high that run parallel to each other across most of the room. I’ve never used them before, but I’ve seen other amputees use them when they first start to walk.

“You ready for this?” Tom asks, rhetorically of course, since I’ve been bitching about this day to him for months.

“You bet

your ass I am.” I nod toward him and reach for my legs. Tom pulls them back, and the look I give him must actually scare him a little because he places them back down in front of me.

“Now, now Devin, we gotta go over some things first.” I nod in acknowledgment, sitting back in my seat. I shoot him a smirk—I knew it couldn’t be that easy—and wait for him to continue. Katie is looking intently, mentally noting everything Tom says so that she knows what to do when we are back in our little apartment.

The traumatic brain injury sometimes has its way with my short-term memory and Katie has been a godsend during my recovery, remembering medications and appointments, going over medical information with my doctors, all while pregnant with our son. And she was back at it immediately after Jax was born when I went in for my forty-sixth surgery, another irrigation and debridement—the necessary removal of dead or damaged tissue so that the remaining healthy tissue can heal. Three months ago was the forty-seventh—and final—surgery. They closed my stumps for good, which is why I now find myself seconds away from walking for the first time in a year.

“These are test sockets, that’s why they’re clear.” He shows the legs to Katie and me before setting them down again. The sockets are plastic and nearly see-through. “We will have you up on them today in between the parallel bars to make sure you have a good fit. I’ll have you tell me about any hot spots, and I’ll mark them for later.”

“What happens later?” I interrupt, my curiosity getting the best of me. This prosthetics stuff is fascinating, and I soak up all the information he has to give.

“Well, we have what is essentially a heavy-duty blow dryer that heats up the plastic so I can make the necessary changes.” Tom looks at the two of us and waits for acknowledgement.

“So you’ll heat them up today, and then I’ll be walking home, right?” I push.

He looks at me, just for a moment, like I’m absolutely crazy, but I can’t really understand why. I’ve seen enough amputees around the hospital and apartment complex. It doesn’t look that hard.

Tom’s face returns to normal, and he looks at Katie as if he’s concerned that what he has to say next will let me down terribly. She nods for him to continue.

“Well, I will get the changes in tonight, but you won’t be able to get them back until physical therapy tomorrow.” He pauses, and I can tell he’s biting the inside of his lip. He’s my buddy and we get along great, but he’s always had this odd fear of me—subtle, but odd. I smile at him and he relaxes a bit. “They’ll let you take them home, but only after they feel it’s safe for you to do so. After that, we’ll have you keep walking on them and make whatever changes we need to. Eventually, you’ll have your carbon fiber sockets, and it’s nothing but up from there, my friend!”

I look to Katie and she is still smiling so sweetly that it’s hard to be concerned with my own impatience. Not when she has been so patient with me through all of this. I look back to Tom and smile, and he extends each prosthetic leg out to me.

“Well, let’s get this show on the road,” I say, lifting both of my nubs so he can slide the prosthetic socket over my stumps, each protected by a gel liner. He rolls a gel sleeve up both legs that runs from mid-thigh to mid socket. Then he grabs my hands to help me get up, but I shoo him away. He looks at me as if to say I don’t have an option but finally rolls his eyes and backs away from my chair, allowing me to stand on my own.

Instantly, I’m humbled. Standing isn’t as easy, or comfortable, as I thought it would be. My thigh muscles ache as they flex, working harder than they have in some time. Katie looks at me concerned and nearly rises to her feet, but I put a hand up to stop her.

“Please, sweetheart … I’ve got this.” She settles back in her chair with Jax, but the apprehensive look stays on her face.

I fight with everything that I have, gritting my teeth tightly together and gripping the arms of the chair before finally standing. I steady myself, wobbling a bit, before I’m able to scan the room from the perspective of a man standing six feet two inches tall for the first time in almost a year. It’s like my eyes are opened to an entirely new world, foreign but exhilarating.

Tom takes me by the arm and rebuffs my attempts to push him away. He guides me as I take two slow, unsteady steps forward, stabilizing myself with a hand on each of the parallel bars. Tom backs away and waits, placing his hands on his hips. Katie rises to her feet at the other end of the parallel bars, her eyes gleaming with excitement but anxiety still present on her face.

I take two steps forward.

The nerves ache, the walls of the sockets pressing against them, but I don’t feel it.

I take two more steps forward.

My wife waits, my son in her arms, and the only thing I feel is the immediate need to take them both into my own arms, to hold Katie while standing for the first time in so long.

Two more steps forward.

Tears roll down her cheek, one after the other. I want to wipe them all away. I want to kiss her, to touch her, to hold her like she’s never been held. To feel whole, at peace, and so in love that nothing in this world could ever change it.

I take two more steps forward.