I was born with seventeen fingers and two toes. Doctors decided to use some of my extra fingers to replace the missing toes. Sin
ce the joints were similar and some of the extras were about toe length. To create a realistic big toe, surgeons used my third thumb. Sewing it skillfully with a tiny needle intended for use in making doll clothes. My surgeon chose the needle because he wanted to attempt a reconstruction of my nerves, muscles, and blood vessels. What good is a toe if it can’t function? I had always dreamed of being able to grip when I walked. To feel the sand between my toes. In fact, walking itself was always a challenge. From the age of eleven months, I wore prosthetics. The most uncomfortable fake toes you can imagine. Without them, I could not balance. With them, I was mobile and independent. They were designed to fit my foot and strap onto my ankle so that they wouldn’t slip off. Once I practiced walking with them, no one knew about my strange feet. My hands, however, were another matter. Seventeen fingers were hard to hide! Kids used to pick on me constantly. That all changed one day when they realized how well I could grip a ball. Catching a football was easy. Gripping a basketball. I didn’t even need a glove when I played baseball. Nothing could stop me! Except those feet. I could grip and catch all day, but I had to get down the field and court to do so. I knew that I had to fix the foot problem in order to be an elite athlete, so I had the surgery. I thinking that I would have no more problems, but the procedure just created a different one: I could run better, but I had seven fewer fingers for catching.
