Larry's story

Larry Boykin leans on a walker while his therapist stands nearby in a therapy room.

Larry Todd Boykin had been through plenty, but he never felt anything like this. 

The 63-year-old was nearly halfway through his two-week stint at Riverside Rehabilitation Hospital. A physical therapist had asked him to make his way down a hallway using a walker. But the right leg he had both relied on and been tortured by for 22 years was no longer there.

“I can’t do it,” he gasped. Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe. Later, the team told him it was an anxiety attack. “Never had one before in my life,” he said.

Until that moment, Todd dealt with the amputation of his right leg like most other things in his life ― by diffusing it with good-natured snarkiness. Shortly after surgery, Todd told joked with his doctor that it felt like the missing limb was growing back. “I came here for an ingrown toenail and look what happened,” he told a nurse.

Over 14 days, physical and occupational therapists at Riverside warmed to Todd’s humor. Smiles would come in handy to get used to life on one leg ― especially when there wasn’t much to smile about.

Todd had known the day was coming for a long time. Twenty-two years earlier, he broke his ankle in a softball game. Instead of setting, the break grew worse. A Type 1 diabetic, the Hampton, Va., resident suffered from a rare, related disorder called Charcot foot, which can cause the sufferer not to feel pain in the limb. Eventually, the fractured bone broke through his skin, and he required surgery.

His decades-long troubles with the limb were just beginning. He continued working at a local shipyard, but needed a special boot to walk. He had surgery, but the bone broke again five years later. His right leg became shorter than his left. Sometimes, his doctor asked if he was ready to amputate the limb, but Larry always said no. He could still work. He could still get around. So, he waited until he retired earlier before deciding the time was right for doctors to remove the leg just below his right knee.

“I knew what was coming,” he said.

He chose Riverside Rehabilitation Hospital because “I heard y’all were aggressive in your care and helping people progress forward,” he said. Still, he was skeptical. Was therapy really necessary?

When Todd arrived at Riverside, he discovered he needed help. He couldn’t stand on his own, dress or bathe himself. He felt weak. Physical therapists started Larry on exercises like hip flexion – a forward kick that helped build strength in the remaining portion of his right leg. He also performed hip abduction exercises to improve his strength and worked on balance. He spent hours on a variety of exercise bikes that used his arms to pedal, strengthening those limbs to compensate for his missing leg.  

Occupational therapists helped him learn to dress himself, move around a bathroom and get in and out of a car. To get there, he practiced doing both over and over. He also spent time in the gym, working on bicep curls, triceps extensions and other exercises to strengthen his upper body.

The work was hard, and Todd was hesitant at first. “I hate people telling me what to do,” he said. “I know they are there to help me, but I am a grown man. I had to release that mindset. Joking around helps.”

He brought along a speaker that allowed him to play music from his phone. He chose old R&B music. Earth, Wind & Fire, Teddy Pendergrass and Barry White throbbed while he sweated through work outs with technical names like scapular protractions and retractions, horizontal abductions and adductions.

“Turn it up!” his therapists told him.

The walk down the hallway convinced him he had mental work to do. Todd met with a neuropsychologist and talked through some of what he was feeling. He was surprised to find himself in tears. Possibilities of the life he was headed toward kept him moving. Decades earlier, before his leg problems began, he’d been an avid golfer. Once he figured out the prosthetic leg he’d receive, maybe he could take it up again. He had a video chat with his granddaughter and made plans to take her to the circus in January. 

Within 14 days, he was viewing most of the experts with whom he worked as friends. They always took the time to explain, and Todd was never shy about asking questions. One time he was performing “Supermans” – which involved lying on his stomach on a table and extending his arms and legs. He asked why this exercise was on the agenda and why his back was hurting him. Throughout all his ailments, he’d never felt much back pain before. Your body is using new muscles in different ways, the physical therapists explained. Your back is compensating for your missing leg.

By the end of his time at Riverside, Todd could bathe, dress himself and get in and out of a car. He could also hop 50 feet with supervision. 

At home, he’s getting used to his prosthetic. He’d like to return to Riverside for a visit – maybe to volunteer with the therapists who he turned out to need more than he thought.

“The bottom line is you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink,” he said. “But you can put salt in his food to make him thirsty.”