Someone asked me why I don’t get the fit of my prosthesis fixed. While that seems the obvious answer to my problem, it’s something my prosthetist and I have been working on for 2 years. It’s a long boring story, but the long and the short of it is that we haven’t found a good fit yet.
Making the knee, ankle, and foot is a science. Making the socket, the part that doesn’t fit right, is an art. My prosthetist made me a leg 7 years ago and it was the best fit I’ve ever had. He’s proven to me he’s an artist. This time, however, regardless of everything we’ve tried, I continue to have pain.
I don’t believe this has happened for a reason, but I do believe I get to learn something from this – if I choose. Believe me, I’ve had my pity parties. But pity parties are lonely. Even when my husband sits with me and validates my feelings, I’m still intensely alone at the party. And that’s when I find something else besides self-pity to hold onto, something to connect me to the bigger picture, something to help make sense of all this.
One thing I’m grateful to have learned is patience. When I first went to my prosthetist to get the new leg made he said it would be done in a month, six weeks tops. It’s been 27 months and three sockets later and we’re still no closer to a comfortable leg. And there’s a part of me, a big part of me, that’s OK with that. I’m learning patience. Early in the process I told myself that I won’t learn patience if I get what I want when I want it. When I have another set-back, when an appointment gets canceled, when a part doesn’t come in, I take a deep breath. No one is making this happen. My prosthetist, bless his heart, has gone over and beyond the call of duty to accommodate my needs.
We ponder why this isn’t working. We think it may be because I’ve been an amputee for 32 years now and certain muscles have atrophied making a fit more challenging. But I don’t even know if a reason is necessary. Being patient with the process is. So that’s what I do – most of the time. Just don’t ask my husband to verify that. He’s the one who catches my in my pity parties.