Paul Martino, president of a family-run Massachusetts prosthetics company, has seen it many times. Lately, he has seen it with survivors of the Boston Marathon bombing.
Since the 15 April attack, eight people who lost one or both legs have come to United Prosthetics, a company that Martino’s Italian immigrant grandfather, originally a shoemaker, started in Boston in 1914.
Inside the company’s two-story brick building in the city’s Dorchester section, crews use carbon fiber to fabricate sockets that fit over the end of a wounded leg. Then they connect the sockets to artificial knees and feet that are manufactured elsewhere.
The company deals with patients who have lost limbs to accidents, diabetes or combat, and part of the Martino family’s job is being honest with those who are suddenly realizing they won’t get back everything they had. The Martinos urge people to give it time.
‘We’re the voice of reality. First, it sucks to be an amputee,’ said Martino, a 62-year-old National Guard veteran. ‘Whoever designed us, whatever you believe, made the perfect machine. We’re chasing it.’ That go-slow, one-day-at-a-time approach was a challenge for bombing victims like Mery Daniel.
The 31-year-old medical school graduate lost most of her left leg and wanted her life to get back to normal quickly. She was disappointed initially that the first socket she got was bulky and didn’t seem to be state-of-the-art. But she decided to stick with United Prosthetics.
‘I was too quick to judge,’ Daniel said. ‘We keep on comparing those legs with what we used to have. But they’re not our legs.’ She added: ‘The idea of `Give it time’ I think was spot-on.’ Martino runs the business along with his siblings Greig, Mary and Gary, and his son Chris. Gary Martino, 49, said his late father believed in educating people about prosthetics, a field he says has gotten more attention because of the Boston tragedy.
Since the 15 April attack, eight people who lost one or both legs have come to United Prosthetics, a company that Martino’s Italian immigrant grandfather, originally a shoemaker, started in Boston in 1914.
Inside the company’s two-story brick building in the city’s Dorchester section, crews use carbon fiber to fabricate sockets that fit over the end of a wounded leg. Then they connect the sockets to artificial knees and feet that are manufactured elsewhere.
The company deals with patients who have lost limbs to accidents, diabetes or combat, and part of the Martino family’s job is being honest with those who are suddenly realizing they won’t get back everything they had. The Martinos urge people to give it time.
‘We’re the voice of reality. First, it sucks to be an amputee,’ said Martino, a 62-year-old National Guard veteran. ‘Whoever designed us, whatever you believe, made the perfect machine. We’re chasing it.’ That go-slow, one-day-at-a-time approach was a challenge for bombing victims like Mery Daniel.
The 31-year-old medical school graduate lost most of her left leg and wanted her life to get back to normal quickly. She was disappointed initially that the first socket she got was bulky and didn’t seem to be state-of-the-art. But she decided to stick with United Prosthetics.
‘I was too quick to judge,’ Daniel said. ‘We keep on comparing those legs with what we used to have. But they’re not our legs.’ She added: ‘The idea of `Give it time’ I think was spot-on.’ Martino runs the business along with his siblings Greig, Mary and Gary, and his son Chris. Gary Martino, 49, said his late father believed in educating people about prosthetics, a field he says has gotten more attention because of the Boston tragedy.