Even after six months, the sight of my amputated leg still has the power to shock me.

This evening I was hopping around the bedroom after coming out of the shower, towel tied around my waist.

While doing so I caught sight of myself in the mirror. It was not my ever-spreading beer gut that caught my attention but rather my right leg hanging down and dangling in mid air. I was struck by how assymetrical it looked. In fact it looked exactly like what it is -- a leg that's been cut off half way down.

For some reason, it doesn't bother me when I look in the mirror with my artificial leg on, or when I'm sitting down.

But in that moment, caught completely unawares, the enormity of what's happened came flooding back.