Gravity Wins Again: When My Prosthetic Decided We Were Falling

Yesterday, before my recovery meeting even started, I decided to make an entrance.

Not intentionally.

I had a large Dutch Bros passion fruit soda with me. Had.

I took one step wrong with my prosthetic leg, and the prosthetic interpreted that movement as, “Oh, we're taking another step? Got it.”

Except we weren't.

The knee started to bend.

And when you're wearing an above-the-knee prosthetic, there comes a magical moment when you realize:

I'm going down.

Once the prosthetic starts bending as though I'm passing the leg through for the next step, I can't simply pull it back and say, “Never mind.”

Physics has already accepted the assignment.

So down I went.

And so did the passion fruit soda.

All. Over. The. Carpet.

My arm got a pretty impressive rug burn in the process. It was bleeding, and as you can see from the picture, it's definitely going to leave me with a little reminder of the adventure.

Fortunately, the arm really doesn't hurt that much.

My pride? That's another story.

There's something particularly humbling about falling in front of people while simultaneously launching a giant beverage across the carpet.

At least I provided the pre-meeting entertainment.

Falls with a prosthetic are interesting because sometimes there isn't much time to recover. I knew exactly what was happening as soon as that knee began bending.

My brain: We're falling.

My prosthetic: Correct.

Gravity: I got it from here.

The good news is I'm okay. The arm will heal. My pride will eventually recover.

I'm not sure about the carpet.

Back on Two Feet—Well, Sort Of

On Monday, I went to Floyd Brace to have my prosthetic repaired—and I’m happy to report that it is officially fixed!

No more loose parts, strange movements, or wondering whether my leg was about to develop a mind of its own. Everything is secure, comfortable, and working the way it should.

Living with a prosthetic means occasional repairs and adjustments are simply part of the adventure. Thankfully, the team at Floyd Brace got me put back together and walking out the door.

One less thing to worry about—and one more reason to keep moving forward.