Support Jen in Rebuilding Life After Amputation

I was just nine years old when I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. The doctors’ conversations about A1C control, shortened life expectancy, and potential complications like kidney failure, vision loss, and poor circulation felt distant and irrelevant to a kid. I went on with my life much like any other child, except for the constant rituals of insulin injections four times a day and pricking my finger to check blood sugar levels.

Growing up in a small town in Kansas, everyone at my tiny school knew me, and they understood why I carried a little unicorn bag filled with my glucose meter and syringes. My classmates, teachers, and parents were supportive; no one questioned why I had to stop and eat during class. But as I grew older, the conversations around diabetes shifted. Pregnancy risks, birth defects, and more warnings about A1C levels dominated the discussions. I was never a “bad” diabetic—I took my insulin and generally tried to eat right, even through the wild teen years of partying and experimenting.

In my twenties, I drifted through homelessness, graduated from cosmetology school, and eventually started a career as a hairstylist. By 28, I had adopted a child, bought a house, and threw myself into work and parenting. My health was pushed to the back burner. I still took my insulin but checked my blood sugar less often, believing I felt fine.

By my mid-40s, I was running a successful salon and had completed a bachelor’s degree. However, my legs hurt constantly, even during simple tasks like grocery shopping. I chalked it up to standing all day, but the real issue was diabetes-related circulation problems. At 46, I had my first vascular bypass surgery and a heart attack soon after. It was the beginning of the end for my career and my independence. Multiple surgeries followed, leading to the closure of my beloved salon. I moved to Kansas City to be closer to my sister. She had been driving back and forth to Omaha where I lived. She was my constant care giver, recliner sleeper, and cheerleader. So the move just made sense.

Just before my 50th birthday, the inevitable happened—I lost my left leg below the knee. The wound wouldn’t heal, forcing an above-knee amputation months later. My independence vanished, and so did my sense of purpose. For months, I battled severe depression and suicidal thoughts. I’d always been fiercely independent, and suddenly I was confined to a wheelchair.

Now, six months post-surgery, my mental health is stabilizing, and I’m beginning to find my way again. Though I still struggle with pain that makes using a prosthetic unbearable, I’m living on my own and working part-time. My journey has been far from easy, but I’m determined to rebuild my life piece by piece.

One of the biggest struggles now is being able to pay bills on a part time salary. I have trimmed all the fat in my monthly budget including reducing my car insurance to liability and have stopped paying all credit card bills. This has tanked my credit score. With these efforts, I still can't make it. The $1600 a month I make exempts me from disability or food stamps. To qualify I would have to reduce my hours for benefits that don't outweigh what I make at my job now at 15-17 hours a week. So, I'm seeking supplemental income for about ten months until I can go back to work full time.