Nobody tells you that becoming an amputee basically turns your entire life into an Olympic event called: “Can I Make It To The Bathroom In Time?” Spoiler alert: Sometimes the answer is no. People see amputees out in public and think: “Wow. So inspiring. So strong.” Meanwhile at home, I’m one missed transfer away from becoming a biohazard. My life now revolves around timing. My bladder’s timing. My bowels’ timing. My cat’s timing. My dog’s timing. And unfortunately, I’m the slowest one in the house. Ironically, my cat seems to understand my disability more than my dog does. Which feels unfair considering the dog literally survived the accident with me and witnessed everything firsthand. But my cat watches me struggle like: “She is fragile. We must proceed carefully.” Meanwhile my dog is just out here operating under the belief that I still function like a normal human being. After my second surgery to remove hardware from my leg, I came home wearing a medical boot...
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I asked a young man if I could work in with him on a weight machine. He was friendly, respectful, and had great manners—we chatted for a moment, introduced ourselves, and as I was walking away, he stopped me and said, “You’re very beautiful.”
Now, this was a tall, handsome 24-year-old man—any girl would be lucky to meet him. He didn’t have to say that, but he did. And let me tell you, it put a pep in my step. Almost two months shy of sixty, those words made me feel inspired and motivated—to want to do better, be better, and live up to the compliment he gave me.
It reminded me how powerful kindness is. A simple, genuine compliment can brighten someone’s entire day and shift their whole outlook. To his parents: you did a fine job raising a respectful, kind man. And to the girl who meets him—she’s going to be lucky.
Let’s all remember: words matter. Don’t hold back your compliments—you never know whose day you’ll completely change.
Jean Marshall
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