My First Trip as an Amputee: From Panic to Beignets in New Orleans
I'll never forget my first time traveling as an amputee.
Was it going to go okay?
Would airport security single me out?
Would they make me take off my leg?
Would I even feel like myself in a place so unfamiliar?
It was July 2022, 10 or 11 months after I came out of the hospital. I was still learning how to live in this new body—still processing, still healing, still adapting. And yet, there I was, headed to New Orleans for one of my best friend's bachelorette parties.
Terrified—but determined.
✈️ First Obstacle: Packing Panic
Packing was the first hurdle. My number one priority? Medication.
The anxiety I felt around forgetting my meds was wild—but real. I was still on pain management, still adjusting to operating with just one prosthetic leg (since my insurance decided my right above-the-knee prosthetic wasn’t "medically necessary" 🙄).
I packed outfits I felt confident in—but if I’m being honest, I didn’t care much what I wore. I was just trying to get through the trip in one piece, physically and emotionally.
🛫 Navigating the Airport
I was so nervous about security. Thankfully, my best friend used to work for Delta and knew exactly what to do. That helped more than she’ll ever know.
But the aisle chair situation? Humbling. A flight attendant wheeled me down the narrow aisle on a special transfer chair—and while I’m grateful for it, it still felt vulnerable. Thankfully, they give extra time to pre-board because I can’t imagine doing that under pressure.
The worst part? Getting off the plane.
I had to wait a long time for my wheelchair attendant and to find the right moment to exit without blocking everyone else. I felt like I was navigating a system that wasn’t built for me.
🏨 The Hotel: The Real Challenge
Our hotel didn’t have handicap parking. My dad had to pull up and drop me off at the front, then circle endlessly to find a spot.
It was frustrating. Not because I needed help—but because accessible travel shouldn’t be this complicated. That experience was hands-down the hardest part of the entire trip.
🍽️ The City, the Food, and a Beautiful Moment
Thankfully, every restaurant we visited was accommodating and absolutely delicious. From casual spots to fancier dinners, I was able to enjoy the experience and be fully present with my friends.
We even took a drink-making class in an old building with a super sketchy elevator. It was dark, a little janky—but they had a ramp over the stairs. It may sound small, but that little ramp meant everything. It meant I could be included.
Later, we had beignets—which involved another round of parking chaos and sidewalk navigation—but it was worth every powdered sugar flurry.
🎉 A Night Out and a Sacred Encounter
Originally, I had decided not to go out to the party scene with the girls. I didn’t want to feel like the odd one out, or worry about the logistics of getting into bars and clubs.
But after they left, something in me said: Go anyway. So I did.
And that’s when I saw her—another woman in a wheelchair, missing a leg. She was beautiful, confident, laughing, with a man beside her. We made eye contact, and in that moment, something unspoken passed between us.
A kind of sisterhood.
A knowing.
You see me. I see you.
And I realized: I belong here, too.
🌟 What That Trip Gave Me
That trip to New Orleans gave me more than memories—it gave me confidence.
Confidence to try.
To travel again.
To push past the fear and step (or roll) into new spaces.
It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t easy. But it showed me that I’m still capable of joy, laughter, adventure, and late-night beignets—even in this new body.
It made me believe that maybe—just maybe—I could try this again… with my family next time.
“The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore.” – Psalm 121:8
