One week post-ankle surgery.
I really thought I was going to tough this one out. I told myself I’d be brave, stay strong, keep pushing, maybe even get back to the gym right away. But somewhere between determination and common sense, reality kicked in.
Why would I push myself for two weeks and risk aggravating the stitches on my ankle when healing is finally within reach?
Going to the gym would mean constant transferring, constant friction, constant irritation to an area that desperately needs rest. And after everything I’ve already been through with my amputated leg — the open wounds, the spitting stitches, the endless setbacks — I just couldn’t justify sabotaging my own healing again.
I had finally reached a point where I could start wearing my prosthetic again at the beginning of May, only for everything to come to a complete stop because of this ankle surgery.
Yesterday, I decided to try anyway.
I put the prosthetic on just to see if I could do it. But because my ankle currently has almost no movement — and the prosthetic ankle doesn’t compensate for that — I ended up walking like Frankenstein. After a few awkward, forced steps, I had to abort the mission and ask my caretaker to help me back into my wheelchair.
But I had to try.
I also postponed my physical therapy appointment. It was scheduled one day before my stitches come out, and honestly, after fighting this hard to heal, the last thing I wanted was to spend 40 or 50 minutes walking around physical therapy and potentially mess things up at the finish line.
So for now, I rest.
Around 2 a.m., I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep. Around 3-something, I finally got myself up to make a cup of tea.
And sitting there in the quiet, with my dog beside me, something hit me.
After everything I’ve survived… after all the pain, the surgeries, the trauma, the uncertainty, the losses, the financial stress, and the reality that my journey is nowhere near over… I realized I was grateful to still be here.
That’s not always easy to admit.
There were moments after the accident where I thought maybe the other guy got the easier ending. He didn’t have to wake up every day and live through catastrophic injuries. He didn’t have to face the suffering, the limitations, the fear, the rebuilding, and the endless unknowns.
I did.
And some days, that feels unbearably heavy.
But in that moment — making tea, petting my dog, thinking about what I wanted to eat that day — I felt something else too.
Gratitude.
Not because any of this has been easy.
Not because everything is magically okay.
But because I’m still alive to experience even the simplest parts of life.
I could easily live in bitterness after everything that’s happened to me. I understand how people end up there.
But I don’t want bitterness to become my home.
So every day, even when it’s hard, I choose gratitude instead.
If you feel called to support my healing and recovery, click here to support my GoFundMe. Thank you for being here.
#AmputeeJourney #DisabilityLife #RecoveryJourney #TraumaSurvivor #Resilience #ChooseGratitude #StillHere
Amputee Journey, Disability Life, Recovery Journey, Trauma Survivor, Resilience, Choose Gratitude, Still Here


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