Whenever I am in a new place, second hand shops, bric a brac and antiques stores usually attract my attention. Often they look like junk stores, but they draw me in: for the mysterious and unknown, the special find. For me they can be a treasure trove of exciting artefacts from previous ages, made with love, skill, great artistic talent and craftsmanship. Handmade not factory fodder. It is something I learned from my mother, the pleasure at finding bargains, beautiful pieces, made many ages ago and of little value to the untrained eye. From my father, I didn't inherit his interest in baseball or fishing, the bagpipes either, but I think I have his values and approach to life, open, honest, facing issues - but I don't put things off like he did. So to return from my family history, these places can have such amazing piles of junk, but in with the purple glass vase, cup with Lady Diana or Lassie, or cracked plate is sometimes a hidden gem, perhaps very old, unloved, unappreciated, perhaps valuable. It's what we all hope for, like a lottery win but don't expect. Some choice pieces have come my way like this. I have never found an original Leonardo da Vinci coffee pot or steering wheel cover, even a van Gogh original but there's time yet. When I have reassessed my collection occasionally, they sold for a good profit - and to make space for more collectibles later. My problem with holidays is making sure I can carry home whatever discoveries I make. Once I heard of someone in trouble with the authorities: the small, dust covered reproduction vase was an Etruscan original. Incarceration for 10 years is a high price.

Computer consultant, that's me, Adam Smith. My school colleagues didn't know about the other Adam Smith I'm pleased to say, but I like my name, the first man. And I didn't even study Economics at school. Distinctive first name, forgettable surname. But inside me, I'm not a Smith, maybe some name meaning "King of the Jungle would be better. I'm comfortable, make a reasonable living, but there's an empty space in my life, not just because I haven't met the hunk of my dreams. What if the first Adam had been gay? Luckily there are other guys out there now. Maybe everyone has this inner seeking, and it wasn't seeking out the perfect artwork or artefact, but that's life, hard work, stress and pressure, and excitement too. So when an old school friend asked me for a "big 0" birthday party, it was a chance to relax, take a few days off there and just live for the moment, sleep in and answer to no one except me. It was only a two hour flight, enough to be another world. After checking in to my hotel, I took a cab to the old part of town, enjoyed walking past old buildings, not so slick and shining (not that I didn't admire good buildings too). Sitting in a dusty window as a craned my neck through the dim interior, I spied a brass vase, about 12 inches high, with highly ornate engraved flowers. Before I even took it in my hands, I knew it was special, a one in a million find, hundreds of years old I suspected. Yes, I wanted it, and for $70 it was a bargain. My experience told me it was Turkish, and not a copy. If it was, I didn't mind. It looked in good condition, and good craftsmanship, quite heavy. It just had a look and finish I liked, somehow attracted my interest. How it came to this country was a mystery. Caravans on the trade routes didn't normally stop off here. I couldn't wait to get back to my hotel and examine it properly, try a little cleaning. Examine it more carefully.

As I unpacked it, the dust made me wonder how long it had been in the shop. Clearly, no one had touched it for a mighty long time. So I used the hotel's shoe shine cloth to give it the once over. This was genuine old dust, not something added to give a false patina of age, or I was Ali Baba's handsome brother. Suddenly there was a big black guy standing over me, in flowing white, with a short but thick black beard and piercing black eyes and brilliant white teeth. Over six feet tall with a lustrous skin, no wrinkles, he wore no shoes, just large, long feet. His eyes seemed to see right through me as he stood ramrod straight without blinking, without moving, x-raying me. "What is your wish? You have one wish to command." As the genie told me I had one wish, he held out his right arm, extended out of his voluminous, white robes, uncovered to his elbow. I was stunned, momentarily dazed but my brain was still functioning, even at half speed. Something was odd; I hadn't picked it up before in my surprise, somehow I looked at his left arm, still enfolded in his robes. He didn't seem to have one. I couldn't believe my eyes and looked more closely; just then he moved it, almost sensing where my gaze lay. Did he have one arm? This genie had lost his left arm, his robes moved below his shoulder but there was no lower arm, no hand, it was just a stump, above his elbow. It was too short for his arm. He was holding both his arms out but only one was a full arm. The robes draped off his stump and as he moved it again, there was the rounded off curve of an above elbow stump showing through. This was no ordinary everyday genie you meet in the supermarket. How did he get one arm? These things don't happen. Genies don't exist, let along one armed genies. Where did he come from, had to be a genie, the door was still closed, bolt double locked. It was just after Easter, I could only think this to be possible of one other person, and I was sure it wasn't Him. It is supposed to be a lamp that you rub, but this genie clearly didn't know. And I wasn't going to tell him. Not three. Only one wish. So not a lot of thought was needed to decide. Would I ask for a million dollars, or a new house, a car, or perpetual happiness in some form? The lover of my dreams. No this was someone to enjoy finding myself. Free will was good. I had wanted something else for so long but hardly expected it to happen; this was my chance. A private dream. No one in the whole world knew about my deepest wish. No one I had told. No one or they would know I was crazy. Yet I wasn't, or so I thought. If he had one arm, it made sense to do it. But first to check. "Can I ask you a question?" He nodded. "How did you lose your arm?" There was a momentary dark look, then he moved closer to me, looked me in the face, boring through my eyes as if he were scanning my brain. "I perceive your interest, your good intention. So I will tell you," he said with perfect articulation, clear and slow, like he was trying hard, with a deep resonant voice, almost like Paul Robeson. I had a duel with an evil genie. He nearly took my existence. I had an instant to make my choice: lose my arm or annihilation. You see the result. Do not ask more."

So I asked him another question: if I asked to have my leg off, like amputated, could this one armed genie do it. He replied that whatever I asked could be done, this included losing a leg, although he had not been asked that before for a long time. A few times before it had been done, when he still had two arms. I was not the first, he mentioned a guy named Ahab and an Egyptian guy named something-hotep and some guy named Hook. He just asked me if I was sure, and was prepared to live with the consequences, the difficulties as I could not rescind my wish after it happened. It was for good. My leg would be gone. I would have to live with my decision for the rest of my life. This was obviously a good genie, wanting me to consider my choice, give me a chance to change my mind, but letting me make up my own mind too. I closed my eyes, breathed deeply, hardly believing it was happening, it had to be a hallucination. Opening my eyes, he was still there, his stump enfolded in his robes. But with nothing to lose except my leg, sure it still had to be a strange dream, I said it, "I want to have one leg, with my right leg off mid thigh, with a neat, smooth, rounded, even stump about 9 inches long." It was so ridiculous it was never going to happen. No sooner had I said it than I opened my eyes, blinking at the sudden flash and it happened. I awoke from my dream. The big dark guy was still there standing by the bed, his arm folded across his chest, holding his stump in his right hand. You could see his hand over the end of his stump. Now smiling for the first time, I heard the words from his mouth, "You will do well, Adam." Then I almost fell in shock. Literally fell. One minute I was standing on two legs, now I had one. I really only had one leg. This gave me a problem. You know! Standing. Luckily I was leaning against the wall and held on. Later on, I realized this genie called me Adam. He knew my name. How? What did he know about me? Would I ever learn more about this strange being?

Suddenly a one legged man now, it was difficult to stand easily, or walk. A shock after twenty nine years of having two legs. Normally when this happens, I guess the hospital has crutches, a wheelchair for the patient, and they wake in bed, sedated and the doctor tells them they had to amputate, the nurse comes to bandage their stump, or they knew in advance. But not me, like this. Mine was different, a little unplanned, to put it mildly. It was a problem, but one I could handle, would enjoy and look back on with pleasure. A problem I was happy to have. Now with just one leg, I clearly needed something to help me walk, crutches not a wheelchair. Immediately. It then crossed my mind that maybe it was only temporary or some strange illusion and my leg would reappear in a few minutes, or hours, days even, and crutches could be a waste of time. But even for the short term, I needed them to walk. I wanted to enjoy it, brief or for life. And the genie said it would be permanent, no going back. He said it was for good, no mention of bad. It dawned on me that he was still, standing there, dark figure against the wall, wearing a turban, silently cupping his stump in his right hand, watching. He looked at me nodding and smiling. I just gave him a big grin, "How can I thank you?" With that he was gone in a sound of rushing wind. It was going to be necessary to find some crutches fast, I needed to take stock, get over the shock, the surprise. It was a quick hop to the bedroom, with its floor to ceiling mirror, where I could look at myself. This one legged guy really was me. My reflection confirmed what I saw and felt, and rather didn't feel, although it still felt as if I had it. My leg was gone just as I had asked. Having to hop sort of proved my leg was gone, but it still seemed wrong, couldn't happen. Raising my right leg confirmed it was gone, well, raising the part from a few inches above my knee, at least. My trouser leg was empty, loose, no leg inside. It hung empty. If there was a wind it would have blown. Just like a one legged guy. I was a one legged guy. Me. The one legged guy couldn't be me. Still in shock I hopped to the bed to sit, shocked at needing to hop, my empty leg hanging loose. It was impossible. Placed my hand on my stump and felt it. It was real, I felt my hand on the end, with no leg there, my pants ending in nothing. Moved my hand across the end, from one side, over the end to the other. It was easy, leg definitely gone. It didn't hurt, just felt like the end of my stump, weird. Just felt good. What did it look like? I couldn't wait to see. Next I undid my belt, the buttons at the waist, the zipper on my fly and dropped my pants to see this stump I now seemed to have, but couldn't have. Genies don't exist, and one armed was ridiculous. It had to be a dream, a hallucination, some trick on my mind. People don't just have a leg disappear like this. But a stump it was, smooth and perfectly rounded, about nine inches long I guess, just as I asked for at mid thigh. Even a quick look suggested one word: beautiful! Lifting it to look at the end, I was fascinated. Would there be any scar? But no, it was perfect, just skin continuing with no marks. By now I had to sit on my bed and breathe slowly, carefully. I was so excited, I needed to think rationally, get used to this. Think what I should do. I badly needed a drink to settle my nerves, so hopped to the mini bar, took the miniature bottle of scotch, hopped back to the bed and sat, then downed it in one gulp. It helped, the bitter after taste confirmed this was no dream. As I sat there, still in wonder, my mind started to work again, to think. Here I was hopping across the room, just one leg. Looking down, one leg clearly ended above my knee now. I had received my wish, but there were the problems of having one leg, would I now regret it? I knew I wouldn't, but you still wonder, it was so sudden. How should I explain away losing my leg? At least on holidays I could say there was an accident and they had to amputate, then keep my leg covered - no, now it was my stump - and no one need know it was healed already. Perfectly smooth, round, even. That was easy. If I bandaged it, like a real new stump, no one need ever know. But more important things first, I still needed crutches, needed them to walk. They were not something I normally carried with me, that I even owned.

Next to the bed was a phone directory, and yellow pages. Relief. That should give me some clues. So a quick leafing through the entries showed up a pharmacy next to the hotel and a mobility aids store I thought I could easily drive to. Better the mobility store as it would be embarrassing to hop through the lobby, everyone looking, staring, neatly dressed, curious about this strange one legged man hopping, disturbing their peace. Even though I had wanted this, I needed to get used to it, and hopping one legged through a busy, smart hotel lobby full of well dressed people was more than I wanted, made me feel very exposed, though necessity would have made me do it if I had to. So there it was. Just put my pants back on, fold the empty leg, tuck it into the waist and I was ready like any regular one legged guy. Sitting to put my pants on, an adjustment I would have to get used to, I finished the task, tucked the empty leg into my waist. Looking at my reflection in the mirror I straightened the empty leg, you could see the form of my stump under the cloth. Hop to the elevator, wish I could go direct to the parking level, then Reception wouldn't even see me, exposed to as few staring eyes as possible. But it only went to the foyer and I had to change elevators. Hopping down the corridor it felt weird, unreal, this wasn't me. I had two legs. Yet in my excitement I knew it was true. It felt good. The one legged man I saw in the mirror waiting for the elevator was me. The one legged man had my face, me. I raised my stump for balance, held onto the wall. The doors slid open, I hopped in, relieved the car was empty. The mirrored walls showed a one legged guy again. There were some strange looks from the folks waiting to enter the elevator at Reception, this one legged guy, hopping out when it arrived. But they were too polite to stare, and who cared. I obviously needed crutches and didn't have any. It was not their business. I tried to look nonchalant, as if I did this all the time. Had been a one legged man for years. As we waited, for the second elevator, a good looking young guy not much older than me asked, "Are you OK? Can I do anything to help?" "No, I can manage, just going to the carpark." No need to explain. Leaving the elevator, as I nearly fell, my new acquaintance caught my arm. With a grateful smile I thanked him, hopping to the Mustang I felt his eyes watching, making sure I was OK. My initial incredible excitement had died down a notch, but hopping to the auto revived it again. This stork on one leg was me. Lucky I was parked near, not a long hop to the end of the parking level. No need to breathe deeply. With a racing heart, think, "Which car is mine? The white one or the red? The white of course.

Quick looking in the street directory for Austin Street, where I hoped to find Southside Mobility Appliances hadn't moved. In a few minutes I was there and saw their sign. Using my left leg for brake and accelerator were not easy at first, although I was careful and braked too hard at first, lurching the car to a stop at my first attempt leaving the car park. My brain was going to have to reprogram itself for left leg driving. I took it slowly in case my brain didn't brake fast enough. It seemed strange getting out of the car with one leg, holding onto the body to close the door. While my instinct told me I had done the right thing, it didn't stop it feeling mighty strange. Mighty good too. It wasn't me yet. But then I had only had one leg for thirty minutes so far, most people in my shoe would still be recovering in post op. I wondered what had happened to my missing leg, was it in some bin, or had it disintegrated? Hopping to the door, hoping to not look too awkward, too strange, I was relieved there had been a disabled parking space directly in front, no stairs and only a short distance to manoeuvre over the sidewalk. From the hopping and sitting, the empty leg had drifted out of my waist, hanging empty. A quick decision, leave it or fix it. So raising my stump I caught the empty leg, tucked it into my waist again, pulled it tight against my stump for good measure. As I hopped in, the guy at the counter looked up and said, smiling, "Can I help you. Maybe I can show you our range of crutches perhaps? Or was it something else you wanted this morning? He didn't look at me as if I came from Mars, was some strange one legged being, for him I was just a regular guy needing crutches, a customer. Nice! And probably not the first man who had hopped in like this.

"You guessed right, I sure need some crutches. What do you have? I broke something in my leg and didn't bring my crutches with me. It feels so awkward hopping to get here. "You're at the right place now. Looked OK to me. After checking the selection, examining the styles, trying them for comfort, feeling the handgrips, I chose a pair of bright blue metal elbow crutches. "My usual ones are full length aluminium ones, axillary, my prosthetist calls them, but I want to try something different." "You won't regret these sir, these are our top selling crutches, you won't want to go back to your old ones, I'm very sure." As the assistant fitted them for my height I felt it was a dream, and I would soon wake up. Just then the alarm went off and I woke. No, I was awake, and did have one leg now, and was at Southside Mobility Appliances buying crutches. "This model has special shock absorbing tips to reduce the impact on your hands and arms, and special gel hand grips to reduce the pressure. Our customers rave about them." I had a choice of adjustable or fixed for my height, easy choice. So after a short wait, then a few turns up and down the store, they felt good, comfortable. Walking with them was easy and relaxing, they felt right. I liked them, so signed the credit card voucher and was off, walking on my new crutches, a normal, ordinary one legged guy. As I left, the assistant asked, "Can we look at your artificial leg? Maybe we can fix it for you?" My heart stopped, "No thanks, not needed. I can manage. It's old and not worth fixing. I was putting off getting a new one."

I was still in shock, just an hour ago I had two legs, now just one, for good I assumed. What had happened to my other leg didn't cross my mind at this stage. Had it just disintegrated? My focus was on dealing with my new condition. Before going back to the hotel, I had no reason to rush, took a stroll along the street, looking in the windows, looking at the people, the buildings, and finding I was enjoying my crutches. It was a great feeling swinging along, no longer hopping, now an easy walking, regular one legged guy. Crutches had a certain fluid, flowing quality I liked. Even hopping to my seat after placing my crutches in the car first was a good experience. Back at my parking spot I found a police officer writing a ticket. When he saw me on crutches he laughed and said, "You were just getting a ticket for using a disabled parking space." "I'm sorry officer, I keep my pass in my own car and didn't think when I came here, that I might need it in a Hertz one." "It looks as if you are qualified to use it. Make sure you use your pass."

After returning to the hotel, and leaving the automobile, I took the elevator back to the lobby, stairs still a little frightening. Suddenly I realised I had not eaten, and lunch was nearly over. Feeling not at all nervous on crutches (except for going down stairs), unlike hopping, I decided more practice was still needed, so crutched through the lobby out into the street to find somewhere to eat. It was a good feeling, walking on crutches and one leg. There was no urge to use my stump as a leg, walk with it, my stump was happy to hang there, relaxed. I felt strong, powerful, had wanted it so long, and now it had happened. Pretending was not the same. Often a wish fulfilled can be a disappointment, but not for me, yet anyway. Like when folks win the lottery, blow it all and end up poor again. A few doors from the hotel was a funky little café with a good vegetarian menu that wasn't just beans and lentils. I was hooked as I surveyed the menu, so crutched in and sat down. Easing into the seat, resting my crutches on the floor I felt liberated. Seeing my stump with the tucked in trouser leg looked good, as it should be. Made me feel powerful. My order was soon taken, no difference from having two legs. Not realising how hungry I was I wolfed down my lunch, hardly looking up until I heard a voice in front of me, "So you found your crutches." Looking up, I saw the guy from the elevator, easy on the eyes, just in a t and track suit. "Would you care to join me?" "You're staying at the Halton?" "Yes, just a quick break for a few days. You're there too I guess?" "Yes, it's convenient and comfortable and close to my client." "What do you do, if you don't mind me asking?" "No trouble, putting in a new computer system for a company, know the area well." "You here on business too?" "No, just taking a short break, like the place." "What happened with the hopping before?" "Oh, nothing, sounds stupid, my leg is broken, prosthesis, and didn't even bring spare crutches, so I was stuck. Had to go and buy some. So I'm mobile again."

Paying at the cashier, I rested my stump on my crutch handle, it felt perfect. I loved my stump sitting on the handle, looked good, felt great, its rounded shape showing perfect through the folded up empty trouser leg. We walked back to the hotel together, and left at the elevator. Next morning it was odd waking. Ready to jump out of bed and looking down, I was careful as a one legged man now; I remembered one leg was gone, no right leg to stand on. Putting my foot to the floor and standing was easy enough, then hop to the bathroom, maybe sit to relieve myself and a shower. Careful not to slip, take small hops. Raising my stump to soap and wash it, I let the water cascade down on it, lifted it further to let water run across the end. Nice feeling, nice look. It sounds ridiculous. But drying my stump felt good too, that sensation across the rounded off end of it. Sitting was the way to put on my pants now, after a shoe then stand and tuck my empty leg into the waist. I had not noticed before, the shoe from my right leg and the blue sock with a red band at the top were still on the floor. There had been too much happening to notice them before. But no leg. Taking the elevator downstairs for breakfast, I liked the extra choice compared with room service, one lady gave me a strange look with a few other prolonged observations. As I crutched into the bistro, rested my stump on my crutch handle - it felt as good as it looked - I wondered how I would carry the buffet plates, guessed it was best to dump my crutches and hop. Lucky the coffee was table service. Almost in answer to my thought, Steve arrived behind me. "Can I carry your plate too?' "That would be good. It's a bit hard, though I can do it." He slid next to me on the banquette, passed me my fresh fruit and tomato juice and we ate, exchanging pleasantries. Over our coffee when I had eaten my egg, he his waffle, sitting back, spreading his legs, Steve brushed his leg against my stump. I pushed it closer. He turned and half smiled as we continued eating without a comment. His leg was moving back and forth against me. As we finished, I asked Steve, "What are you planning for this evening? I wondered if you wanted a dining companion." "Sure," he grinned beneath that unruly hair and piercing blue eyes, "what if we meet in the lobby, say 7pm?" "Where do you want to do?" "Let's find something and decide then." I nodded, feeling pleased as he slid out.

There was a day to fill in before the party. Returning to my room, an idea was forming in my mind. As a one legged guy I was unusual. I had always liked tattoos, not too many, not too large on a well built physique, especially the upper arm. But I had never plucked up the courage. If I didn't do it today, it would never happen. Carpe diem as Robin Williams said. So in the city later, when waiting at traffic lights to change, a hunk with a great looking geometric tattoo on his biceps was next to me, I asked him where he had it done. "I'm going there. Let me show you." So after 10 minutes or so, we were at Mac's Tattoos, I was greeted by what must have been Mac. As he showed me some designs he suggested the unthinkable. "Have you thought of a tattoo on your stump?" I hadn't, since it was so new. Impulsively, I replied, "Great idea, what do you suggest?" He showed me a south sea island style of thick, gentle curves surrounding an arm. "Let's do it, across the end too." After washing and sterilizing my stump, he began to draw the pattern on it and commented. "You have a mighty fine stump." "That's good of you to say so, some people don't agree, but I like it, it feels good." After a 2 hour session, he was done. My stump had the best tattoo I had seen. It did hurt, but not worse than a dentist, and he was careful. At the end he wrapped it in plastic, "Now leave that on for a few hours."

As a visitor, I had not realised it was not the most salubrious part of town. So when a group of tough looking young men approached in a predatory, menacing way, I couldn't quickly cross the road, or run as I wanted to do. Crossing the road, they crossed too. I tried to walk fast without looking scared. They were becoming closer and closer. It was a group of four, probably 18 years old. As they started to go past me I was relieved, then realised two were still behind me. The ones in front stopped, their cohorts coming close in. There was a gun in my back, or it felt like it. "Give us your wallet. We can take it if you don't want to." Well did I know it. So I mildly handed it over. One of the others grabbed my crutches and started walking with them, pretending he had one leg. Hopping to keep my balance, I tried to not look as scared as I felt. After opening it, the biggest showed the contents to the others, he was the leader I assumed. He widened his eyes, looked at me with his hand holding my wallet out, "You've less money than we do." "If I had money, do you think I'd be walking on crutches?" Would he notice they were new and not your ordinary pieces of wood, might be expensive? With that he slapped the guy who had my crutches and ceremoniously handed them back to me. "How did you lose your leg?" It looked as if I would be OK. I had the answer worked out, "Auto accident, had to take it off to save my life." "Must be hard with one leg." "Oh, I get by." With that he gave me my wallet. I was pleased I had left my spare cash and credit cards in the hotel safe, nearly didn't. As they started away, the brave put his arm around my shoulders, "You need to be careful in these parts, might get robbed. Have a good day, man." "You too." I realised how vulnerable I was on crutches, but maybe I could attract sympathy too so had a manageable risk, I hoped.

In the last two days so much had happened, I almost forgot Dean's birthday. We hadn't been in close contact recently, so coming as the one legged man I now was, need not be such a shock, he didn't know my every move. Hopping from the cab, grabbing my crutches and walking across the sidewalk, I wondered how they would react. I crutched up the stairs, pushed the swinging door open with my shoulder, entered the lobby and took the elevator. With apprehension I pressed their door buzzer, waited for the door. Someone opened it I didn't know, so just crutched in, one among many. From across the heads, Dean saw me and edged his way across, "Adam, great you could come." Getting closer he held out his arms, obviously delighted his oldest friend could make it. When he saw my crutches and looked down, he looked up again with surprise and concern on his face. But my big grin fixed his concern as we hugged, and I hoped I wasn't assaulting him with my crutches. "Adam, what happened? I didn't know." "Come and we can talk." So he led me through to their bedroom, the only place not filled with talking people. I wondered about crutches in a crowd, but was careful where I placed them. As we sat on the bed, Dean was so obviously pleased to see me, my holiday was perfect. Good friends, and my long held dream fulfilled. "It has just happened, car accident. I'm managing well, still not totally confident on crutches." "It must have been awful, I would have come to see you if I had known." "You know me, it wasn't such a big deal, I was in good hands and so much happening. I really can handle it." "I can see. You look quite upbeat." "Are you getting a leg?" "I guess so, but my stump needs to settle down, and crutches are pretty easy I find. Better than I expected." "I must say you look terrific, happy and healthy, not someone who just lost a leg." He stopped and looked thoughtful a minute, "Sometimes when I've seen a good looking one legged guy, I've thought there was a certain attractiveness about him. Their stump next to their single leg, a certain elegance. You haven't met Chris. We've been together two years. I'll bring him in." Waiting for Dean to return I was pleasantly surprised. As Dean came though the door, he said, "Adam, let me introduce Chris." I was shocked to see Chris on the floor, walking on his hands. Both legs were amputated. He looked up at me clearly delighted as we shook hands. "Great to meet you Chris. At last someone normal, after all these boring bipeds." Just in a tight black t shirt and cut offs, he was an arresting site. His upper arms were the largest I had ever seen, plus strong, thick pecs tapering down to his waist, his figure hugging shirt showing a well made physique. A brilliant physique. His stumps, both were four or five inches long, even and regular with no scars showing - they must have been at the back. He was obviously not ashamed of his stumps. Dean said, "I'll have to get back to the crowd, why don't you guys talk. I'll bring you a drink." So Chris pulled himself onto the bed next to me, his bare, tanned stumps having a rather in your face affect, almost confronting. "Dean has been so looking forward to seeing you. You guys go back a long way." "We've known each other almost from starting school. How did you guys meet?" "It was the gym. I kept getting admiring looks and we sort of went from there, me admiring him too. Dean moved in two years ago. And I don't know how I would have managed without him. You see I had legs in those days. He's a great guy, he stuck by me." "What happened?" "Nothing much. Seems incredible. Riding my bike home from the gym and hit by a lady running a red light. Woke up in hospital with Dean sitting beside me, didn't even realise my legs were off, they felt quite normal, maybe a little burning in one leg. I'll never forget it. Dean's gaze kept returning to the end of the bed; somehow I noticed the bedclothes were flat. So I moved my feet, they felt OK, but the bedclothes stayed the same. Instantly I knew my legs were amputated. I could see little tears running down Dean's face when I looked at him, and he nodded. We didn't have to speak. He knew what I was thinking. After he went home - I didn't want to look while he was there, wasn't sure if I could stay calm - I lifted the bedclothes to look, saw bandages round my waist, then my legs, thickly bandaged stumps just ending in nothing a few inches down. I think I cried all night, wanted to die, asked that useless question, "Why me?" By the morning I decided I couldn't change my fate and was going to make the best of it, and strange as it sounds, was going to see if I could enjoy it. And I have. Dean's acceptance of me, of these, made all the difference. When it was time to go home, Dean took two weeks off, he was worried how I would manage. And it was hard. I remember showering that first time, walking on my hands, relieving myself as I couldn't just stand, point and let it go. Going out the first time on my own was incredibly hard too, feeling this awful space at my lap, wheels for legs, but in time you get used to it. You have to. So, Dean picked me up from hospital. Wheeling me to the car was when it really hit me. I still felt I would wake up and my legs would be back. But struggling that first time to get into the car made it all sink in, and people staring at my stumps. So that's my story. I thought Dean would leave me, as you can see, as you know, he's a great guy." "If you don't mind me saying so, as one amp to another, your stumps look really good. You had a good doctor." I didn't want to say beautiful, but they were. "Not initially, they were uneven, like a rough cliff. But I had them revised, made the same length. Now Dean says they're beautiful, and I don't disagree, smooth with an even curve and a fine scar. So I don't try to hide them, as you can see. It is me, part of accepting who I am now. My life was over, I thought, when I lost them, but if you asked me if I wanted my legs back, I'd say no. My life is happy and my stumps give us both a lot of pleasure, showed me what is important." We spent most of the night talking, not about our stumps, but about Dean and how we stayed friends although now living many miles apart and then everything under the sun. When Dean came in and sat next to Chris, he put his hand on the end of Chris's nearest stump and massaged it. From Chris's reaction I knew I had something to look forward to.

Arriving home, I had decided not to specially tell anyone, but just matter of factly let them know when we spoke, otherwise friends would want to come and visit me in hospital. What hospital? So it was a low key arrival. It was now a week since I lost my leg. Or it was genied away, perhaps he was a genius. Sitting on my flight I was quietly pleased with how I was handling having one leg, my arms certainly noticed it, and the crutches felt better, natural, easier by the day. The more I used them, the more I liked them, somehow felt right. As I crutched out of the airport terminal to board the subway, there was still a feeling of unreality, it can't be me, this one legged guy can't be me. I had two legs, always did. It was strange sitting in the train, looking at my lap with my full size left leg and my right one ending half way along my thigh, a stump - smooth, rounded, perfect, the empty leg of my pants folded into my waist. My long held dream since seeing that one legged man when I must have been seven, instantly fascinated, wanting to know what it was like, was to have one leg like him. The disadvantages did not worry me, it would be worth it. And it had happened. The crutches were mine. It was easy to see the other passengers looking casually, as they look at anyone different, but generally they took little notice, just another person. I straightened my trousers folded under my stump, lowering my stump again, enjoying the look, the rounded end, the silhouette through the cloth folded away. I felt so incredibly good, powerful and right. Powerful was the word that stayed in my head, yes, I felt powerful. I needed to take a cab from the station to my place. It felt good yet weird crutching out of the place I had walked in so often, knew it like my breakfast plate. Waiting at the rank with my stump resting on the crutch handle, I still couldn't believe what had happened. Arriving home, hopping from the cab, placing my crutches under my arms, it was good to be back at my home of three years, a pleasant garden apartment not far from the city centre. Perhaps garden apartment makes it sound too grand, it was a ground floor apartment, with a small private courtyard, which I had filled with plants, like my own little jungle.

Just after sitting down to relax with a coffee, there was a knock at the front door.