Seven steps, and none of them is the same day.

The limb is examined, the doctor’s letter is read, and what you actually need to do — work, stairs, squatting, a two-wheeler — is talked through. You are told what can be made, what it will involve and roughly what it will cost. Nothing is made yet.

Measurements are taken, and for anything custom a plaster cast of the limb. It is not uncomfortable, it is a little messy, and loose clothing or shorts make it far easier.

The cast is rectified — built up where load should not go, relieved where it must not — and the socket or brace is made on it. A simple insole can be same-day; a limb takes longer, and the waiting is the part nobody enjoys.

You put it on. It will feel tight, heavy and strange — all three are normal. What is being looked for is where it presses, and that is found by watching you stand and take a few steps, not by asking how it feels.

For a limb, the angles and the height are adjusted while you walk. This is the difference between a leg you tolerate and one you forget you are wearing, and it is almost never right on the first attempt.

Wearing time is built up gradually — an hour, then two, then a morning. Rushing this is how the first pressure sore happens, and a pressure sore costs more days than the patience would have.

Come back when it rubs, when it loosens, when your weight changes, or when a child grows. A stump shrinks for a year or more after amputation — that is not a fault in the socket, it is the body settling.