I lost my foot in an accident a few years back and have been using a prosthetic foot since then. I wear a running blade while out running. While that does draw some looks, it also makes me feel a little like a cyborg.
I got some crazy phantom itches while running last summer (my brain decided to pretend that my lost foot was really itchy), so I had to sit down at a park bench and take off my blade to take care of the stump.
A nearby picnic, consisting of a few kids and their mothers, gave me some funny looks, but I ignored them until I heard them talk about me. They did try to keep their voices down, but I am sharp of hearing and had too little else to focus on.
Kid #1: *Roughly eight years old.* “Mom, why does that man only have one foot?”
Mom #1: “I don’t know. We can ask him if you want.”
Mom #2: “No, don’t do that. I know why he’s without a foot.”
Mom #1: “You know him?”
Mom #2: “No, but I know what happened to him. You see, that man didn’t drink his milk, so his foot fell off.”
Kid #2: *Roughly six years old.* “What? Really?”
Mom #1: “What the fu…dge?”*
Kid #1: “That can happen?”
Mom #2: “Yes! And he’s probably very ashamed. He did something bad, that’s why you shouldn’t ask him because he’ll feel even worse.”
Kid #3: *Maybe five years old, to [Mom #1].* “Mom, is this really true?”
Mom #1: *Obvious annoyance.* “Well, I have never heard of it before.”
Mom #2: “And now you all know.”
Kid #2: *Scared.* “I’ll always drink my milk! I promise!”
Mom #2: “Good, you should. And that’s always why people are in wheelchairs or have lost limbs; they didn’t do what their moms told them.”
The other mom obviously disagreed, but didn’t seem to want to call out their friend. I know from experience that calling her out or causing a scene would not make anything better, so I didn’t do anything.
A while passed and [Mom #2] took her kid to the public bathroom, not long after the itches randomly stopped. [Mom #1] quickly came up to me with [Kids #1 and #3]:
Mom #1: “Excuse me, may we ask a question?”
Me: “Yes?”
Kid #1: *Nudged by his mom.* “Why do you only have one foot?”
Mom: “If you’re okay with answering, that is.”
Me: “Oh, I was in an accident and got injured. My foot got really hurt, and the doctors couldn’t fix it, so they made me a new one.”
Kid #1: “So… you didn’t do anything wrong to lose your foot?”
Me: “No, I was just very unlucky. Someone else had drunk a lot of beer before driving, which is really bad, and they hit me with their car. But I could have gotten hurt waaaay worse so I’m lucky in a way.”
Kid #1: “Does it hurt?”
Me: “Not anymore, but sometimes I have to take care of it as I do now. A foot made of meat and bones is better to have, but if you lose one, the doctors can just make a new one. I even have different feet for different occasions. This is a running foot, but I mostly use my walking foot, which looks like a normal foot.”
Kid #3: “Do you have a pirate leg?”
Me: “No, but I could get one if I wanted. But I don’t get invited to enough costume parties for it to be worth it; they are expensive.”
Kid #1: “What is your foot made of?”
Me: “Carbon fiber and aluminium, the things they make space ships from!”
Kid #3: “Wow, a space foot!”
Mom #1: *Looks at the public bathroom.* “I think that’s enough. Thank you for answering. Now, what do we say?”
Kids: “Thank you!”
Me: “You’re welcome, and thank you for asking me instead of making assumptions. I’m going to put my foot back on now and go home. Have a nice day!”
[Kid #1] wanted to watch while I put my foot back on, which I agreed to but his mom seemed stressed about. He was very interested and polite, and I answered his million-billion questions about how prosthetics work.
When I set off running again, I saw that the other mom and her kid had returned. I heard a loud argument building between the moms.
When I ran through the park the week after I saw [Mom #1] and her kids without [Mom #2]. I said hi, got pulled into small talk by more questions from [Kid #1], got a spare juice box, and sat down for more small talk. It escalated to a friendship with regular visits for coffee. The mom told me that the incident was the last straw in an increasingly weird relationship and was very glad that I didn’t help her hide that she and her kids had talked with me.
The kids soon decided that my blade needed some drawings on it, and now my blade sports flames and dinos (on paper taped to it, the carbon fiber can’t be easily drawn on with a felt-tip pen). I know I run faster with them on.
*Original Swedish: “Vad i hel…skotta?”
