There is a temptation to turn recovery into a calendar. Three months for this. Six months for that. A year to be “back.” It makes a neat story, and neat stories are comforting when life has just become anything but neat.
The trouble is that a first year after limb loss does not move in a straight line. Bodies change. Sockets change. Insurance decisions arrive on their own schedule. Confidence can show up on Tuesday and disappear again on Thursday. A person can be doing better and still be angry. They can be independent and still need help. They can be grateful to be alive and completely tired of being told to be grateful.
This issue is about that first year without pretending it has a graduation ceremony. We are looking at the practical work, the paperwork, the absurdity, the access fights, the useful resources, and the emotional truth that does not fit in a motivational poster.
If you are in that first year, you do not owe anybody a polished comeback story. You owe yourself the room to learn what works now. If you are farther down the road, you probably remember how much you needed somebody to say that plainly.
The first year matters. It just is not the finish line.