Not a second went by that I wasn’t reminded that I no longer had my arm. I took the bus to the tattoo studio that day but decided to walk home. I guess I just wanted som extra time to try and get used to the new feelings within my body.

People describe the feelings in different ways but nothing quite prepares you for the change in perspective as almost twenty pounds was literally lifted from my shoulders. It felt as if what was left of my shoulder was floating in mid air.

I sort of felt and didn’t feel my arm, as some would describe it: phantom sensations. The thing is, my arm never felt like it was mine so the feeling and the sight of actually having it was the weird feeling. No longer having it paired to my body was more of a relief than traume. Still yet, I found my brain constantly correcting for and assuming I still had my arm and it made for some weird sensations on my simple walk home!

The looks I got were embarrassing to say the least. I went to the studio on a weekday..I think it was a Tuesday, so the streets weren’t too busy with people walking about. A few that did catch my eye were suddenly attracted to my shoulder or they were already looking at it when I looked over at them. I hunched over a bit, ready to finally be home, and finally explore my new body.

I got to my flat and reached to get my keys. Hmm, I can’t seem to find them in my right jacket pocket. It was more of a soft sensation..almost warm. Oh shit...reminded again. Is it always going to be this way? In a sense I didn’t mind it, but I could certainly imagine situation where forgetting Im missing an arm could be annoying or detrimental. I reached around my front with my left hand, into my right pocket. Right-side pockets are not designed for left hands, so it was uncomfortable to wiggle my keys free but with a tug and a hop I got them free. With one hand I sifted through and tossed my keys in the air, catching the one I needed to get in. I stuck it into the lock and...shit.

My door has a special trick. You have to pull it toward you, then turn the key, and then finally open it! My first hour as an amputee was not off to a good start. How does Riley manage? Maybe I should have opted for a foot or a leg instead of an arm...I was confused by the thougt, one I never had before. After over a year of being sure exactly which limb, and at what height I wanted it removed, why was I considering the loss of another? Surely i am just exhausted, and I didn’t really expect to see someone like Riley today. I could just sleep it off, I thought to myself.

I figured out a trick of pulling the door toward me and pushing the key down while I turned it. Finally after fighting my way into my rightful home I really did feel exhausted. I headed to my bedroom and dropped my bag and keys in one movement...the table I usually lay them on was on my right...

I got undressed and took a deep breath and finally looked at myself in the mirror. The most desciptive word I could muster was...asymmetrical. I was a fairly broad shouldered woman and my left shoulder stuck out and with a square joint my left arm fell to my hip. It felt a bit lonely and I didn’t know what to do with it so it hung a bit awkwardly. Looking up at my right shoulder, it didn’t reach out quite as far anymore. I twisted my shoulder so I could get a more head-on look at my stump—shivver.

I still had the bandage from the studio. I could take it off after a couple days but in the meantime it was stuck fast. I reached my left hand over to my rigth hip and started slowly, ever so slowly moving it up the side of my body toward my shoulder. when the top of my hand reach the bottom of my right breast I closed my eyes. This was the first time I was going to touch my new empty shoulder and I wanted to do it in a way that i had done so many times before: I would slide my hand up the side of my body and hope that it could keep going, with no arm in it’s way to stop it. I moved so so slowly, building up anticipation for myself..imagining this was like the hundreds of times I had done this before, except this time instead of trying to convince myself I had no arm, I tried to believe that I did.

It took forever to finally move my hand over my hanging breast, up up to my armpit and up still farther. I stopped at the edge of the bandage, a piece of circular gauze encircling exactly the borders where my arm should be. My hand still wasn’t anywhere that I could be sure I was missing my arm, but if I went any farther, my question would be answered. I kept it there for a couple seconds still trying to convince myself that I had my arm—trying to feel almost disappointed because this would be like all the other times.

I moved another centimeter and my skin stayed flat. I moved again and my arm pit started to feel like the top of my shoulder. I moved again and my hand started to go over the hump of my shoulder stump, with absolutely no doubt that I had no limb there. I gave it a little press. It felt very firm and stiff...like a stuffy nose in my shoulder. I moved my shoulder and I felt it move up and down while the bandage stayed put beneath my hand. I shivered and almost fell over from the overwhelming sensation! It was almost like my shoulder was open and everything within was not exposed. I gave a gently touch and a light massage—a less overwhelming version of the same sensation. With a light press I could feel the bones that used to hold my arm in place and the outline of now abbreviated biceps that once held it tight in the joint—a slight indentation in the middle. I finally opened my eyes again.