There are things about amputee life that are objectively absurd.
Sockets. Liners. Phantom sensations. Airport security. Explaining prosthetic hardware. Dropping something at the exact moment getting it back becomes ridiculously inconvenient. Strangers saying bizarre things. Equipment making noises in silent rooms.
Sometimes laughing is the healthiest response available.
Humor does not mean you are minimizing your experience. It can mean the experience no longer owns you completely.
You decide whether something gets to be tragic for five minutes or become a story you tell for five years. That choice is personal. Not everyone uses humor the same way.
But among amputees, dark humor often becomes a language. A way of saying: Yes, this is difficult. Yes, this is ridiculous. And yes, I am still here.
That can be powerful medicine without pretending laughter cures anything.
Sometimes the joke is not denial. Sometimes it is evidence that the situation failed to take your personality with it.