New Leg!

Mile Marker 7545:

Tim places her in my arms.

A brand new knee.  Fresh out of the box.  Pylon still long.  Microprocessor not yet programmed.

Smooth finish.  Titanium shine.  Sporty and sleek with a racing stripe down the side.

She's not quite what I had pictured, and yet, I love her instantly!  

Like she's already a part of me.

Then, like a newborn, she's whisked away.

In the lab, Tim adjusts the height of the pylon and connects the wires within it.  I turn backward in my chair to watch.

He disassembles the "loaner" leg I've been wearing for more than a year.  He takes apart the foot shell from my carbon fiber foot.  It's 8 years old but still hanging in there.

I'll a need new one soon - but not today!

"Do you want to keep all your modes and settings?"  Tim calls out.

A simple "yes" from me is all he needs.   He measures and programs my brand new Genium knee.

As I watch him work, I remember the first time this happened -- nearly 8 years ago at Mile 60.  September 2, 2011.

How exciting that day was!  Such an elaborate process to program the Genium's resistance and speed, and the various modes for skating, biking, and yoga -- all the activities I HOPED to do one day.  Such great expectations for that new technology.  So many dreams tucked into 14 inches of titanium.

That day, when Tim asked about inline skating, I retrieved my skates from the car.  (I'd packed them just in case!)  For the first time since the accident, I put them on and laced them up.

"Skating mode" worked!   Well, it was a start anyway.  See for yourself...   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y9Bz-0vFud8

I'll never forget that day!

Welcome to the world, "Genie!"

Mile 7,545 is different but just as memorable.

In the midst of programming, Tim walks out of the lab to hand me something else.

"What do you want to do with this one?" he says.

It's another knee.  This one is wrapped in yellow caution tape.  I turn it over to read the message:

WARNING:  This medical device was not repaired according to the manufacturer's instructions and must not be used on a patient.

It's MY original Genie!!!

I thought she was gone forever!  I haven't seen her since we shipped her off to Austria for maintenance 16 months ago, but I recognize her immediately!

She is bruised, scarred, worn, and -- as we've been informed by the experts -- too broken to be repaired.  Turns out, 8 years (or 7,000 miles!) is a long enough lifespan.

I spot the chip on her rim from the first time I skated outside.  I see scrapes from the rock wall.  All those bangs and dings I glossed over with Vaseline whenever I had to get dressed up.

Yep, she's definitely mine.

"Do you want to keep it?"  Tim says.

"Can I use it as a spare if my new one breaks?" I ask.

"No."  He says this definitively.  (As if the yellow tape weren't clear enough!)

I think about it.  I don't want to take her home and tuck her into a closet.  I loved her so much.  She carried me so far.

I glance around the office.  There are legs displayed everywhere.  Running blades.  Microprocessor knees.  Sockets with flashy designs.  Legs lit with Christmas lights.

"Maybe you could keep her?"  I ask Tim.  "For a display here?"

He agrees.  And then we launch into a string of possible captions for her:

"A cautionary tale..."
"Don't try this at home..."
"This what happens when you drive your knee into the ground..."

I'm so happy she's back, not lost in a factory overseas.  And even happier that she'll rest here, in the place we took our first steps together.

In minutes, my new leg is ready to go.  And in seconds, we're connected.

I walk back and forth between the parallel bars.  Pace up and down the hallway.  Try the stairs and ramp.  My gait is natural.  Each step familiar, yet also fresh and new.

The new knee moves smoothly, swiftly.  Hydraulics strong.  Microprocessor alert.  I can't stop smiling.

"It's like butter," I say.

Eight years ago, these first steps were such a process.  Today, they take less than 10 minutes.

I download a phone app to control the knee's settings.  (Amazing, right?!)  It's called Cockpit.  I'm the pilot, I guess!

By time we check the new knee's status, I've already walked 211 steps!

Some people consider July 1 to be a "half" New Year  -- a time to re-evaluate and re-start if we need to.  I'm always running late, so the timing seems perfect.

Here's to a new knee, another set of first steps, and many more miles ahead!