Today I have some exciting news. It’s news that I never anticipated eight years ago when starting Sifter, but it’s news I’m excited to share nonetheless. Sifter has a new home. JD Graffam, already a caretaker for a handful of wonderful products, will be taking over from here.

If you’re a Sifter customer, rest assured that you’re in good hands. Choosing who we sold to was a very big deal for us. It wasn’t about selling the business so much as it was about finding someone else to carry the torch. If you’re not a Sifter customer, there’s never been a better time to get onboard.

Through all of the process, I cared deeply about finding a home for Sifter that I could genuinely feel good about. It had to go to the right team that customers could count on to be good stewards. Thanks to an introduction to JD by good friend, Carl Smith, we found that team. I’d even argue that Sifter is in better hands now. JD has the track record of taking great care of products and their customers. So I couldn’t be more confident in Sifter’s future or more excited to pass the torch.

Once the new team is completely familiar with Sifter, I’ll eventually be phased out, but in the meantime, I’m here to help make sure the transition is as seamless as possible for everyone. I may not be shipping any more code, but I’ll still be helping any time they need it.

So why sell Sifter? And what’s next?

The last couple years have been far more challenging than I would have liked. Nine surgeries, a lot of physical therapy, and adding another child to the family have changed a lot for us. Add an impending below-knee amputation, and I’m in a very different place.

During all of this, Sifter kept truckin’, but I felt that I wasn’t doing a good enough job. I believed that if I could just make it through, I’d be able to pick up the pace, but my priorities had changed. I love creating software, but there’s a big difference between creating software and running a business. With everything that’s changed, I decided it was best to step back from running a business.

I’m not going far, though. I’ve joined my friends at Wildbit where I’ll be helping out with all sorts of things related to Beanstalk, Postmark, and DeployBot. But that’s another story.

The most uncomfortable thing about an elective amputation is that it’s elective. Mountain biking has been a blessing. It’s enabled me to be active again for the first time since this started over two years ago. However, when I’m active, and the pain isn’t there, neither is the constant reminder of why amputation makes sense.

I’ve done ten miles on my mountain bike each of the last two mornings. During those rides, other than times I get off to walk after failing to make it up a steep climb, the pain doesn’t haunt me. As a result, I have to regularly remind myself what’s so wrong with my foot that it has to go. I know it’s the right decision, but the days with less pain breed doubt.

Memories of pain and limitations on the bad days are fleeting. The days where the pain distracts me from my family. The days where I focus minimizing my pain rather than maximizing our joy. Even with things as simple as going to the park, every step hurts. Even a simple walk around the block is miserable. Forget outdoor hiking or trips to amusement parks. And that doesn’t even touch on the times I’ve had to say no to my family for small things because standing or walking even a few steps is just too much. Those memories fade quickly. It takes effort to hold onto them.

I’m confident about the decision. But the good days crack the door ever so slightly to let doubt try to sneak in. Those are the worst days. For now, it’s the bad days that I look forward to. They’re the days that help me remember why I’m doing this.

About two and a half years ago, recovery from a relatively minor surgery went a little bad. Eight surgeries and year and a half after that I was seriously considering a below-knee amputation. After several discussions with multiple surgeons, physical therapists, amputees, and prosthetists, I agreed to try an ankle fusion first. I wasn’t excited about it, but it made sense. That ankle fusion happened about nine months ago. It helped. But nowhere near enough.

If you’re not familiar with ankle fusions, it’s a virtual guarantee that running or jumping off of that leg again is out of the question. An ankle fusion can reduce pain, but only at the cost of giving up a lot of activities. As someone who deeply loves playing basketball, that was a tough pill to swallow. I thought maybe some other activities could replace it. So far, biking has been the only activity that doesn’t cause unbearable pain, and mountain biking has become my mainstay for fitness. Unfortunately, that’s limited by weather and won’t be enough by itself. Earlier this week I tried snowboarding again for the first time since my ankle fusion. The pain made it impossible to enjoy. Going into it, I had a feeling, but that sealed the deal. If I can’t do these activities on my own, I won’t be able to keep up with the girls as they grow up. (Barring any miracles in the coming months, of coure.)

So barring that miracle, I’m again moving towards have my left leg amputated below the knee in the coming months. This is ultimately a fairly elective decision. I could choose to live with the moderate pain on a day-to-day basis if all I did was walk short distances on flat surfaces, but I’d never be able to truly be active again. Given the semi-elective nature of it, it feels like most surgeons are hesitant to fully support the decision. I can appreciate that, but with two young daughters and a wonderful wife who deserves all the help I can possibly provide, settling with the pain would prevent me from enjoying life and being everything I can be for them. I’m not sure I could live with that. Of course, amputation carries its own risks, but it would really be the first “standard” surgery I’ve had since this all began.

As extreme as amputation sounds, if everything goes well, it will actually be an upgrade for me in terms of functionality and pain relief. I’d lose my proprioception, which is a considerable sacrifice, but the net improvement should be good. As it stands, I already don’t have any ankle movement. But I still have plenty of pain. With a prosthetic, the chances of the pain going away are very high. There is a very realistic chance of phantom pain, but we’ll be doing everything possible to mitigate that. So with a prosthetic, I should gain functionality and decrease pain.

This week, I’ll meet with some surgeons and another prosthetist to start working out the details and making sure that all reasonable options are exhausted. With Spring and nice weather coming up, a few other significant life events, and knowing that the recovery will take at least six months, it’s looking like the timing will work out to a late April date for the amputation. That gives me plenty of time to exhaust all of the remaining long-shot options.

During my journey of the last couple of years, I’ve had a hard time finding stories of people in similar situations, and the few stories I have found and people who I’ve been able to speak with about amputation in general have been so incredibly helpful. In particular, Ian Warshak, who is a double below-knee amptuee and recently completed an eight-day round trip hike to the peak of Mt. Kilimanjaro, has been an enormous source inspiration and reassurance that life doesn’t “end” after an amputation.

In addition to those conversations, reading Stronger by Jeff Bauman, On My Own Two Feet by Amy Purdy, and Unthinkable by Scott Rigsby, the first double-leg amputee to ever cross the finish line in the Ironman Triathlon, were all incredible stories that helped me understand the realities of amputation as well as the confidence that an amputation can improve one’s life. (No guarantees, of course.)

I can only hope sharing this process could help anyone else that may be facing a similar decision. So I’ll do my best to document and share all of the ups and downs in the coming months and years in case it can help someone else the way all of these stories helped me.

It’s been almost two years since my flap surgery and about six months since my ankle fusion. The fusion itself was technically a success. The bones fused, and my foot is now in a better position. The pain, however, is as present as ever. I’m able to walk a mile, sometimes close to two on a good day, but I pay for it with pain afterwards. Pain is my constant companion and influences every decision involving more than a few steps. Ankle pain has radiated outward into knee pain and back pain from a broken gait. I don’t much like where that leads.

The pain isn’t unbearable, but it’s enough to sap the joy out of most activities. I’d rather not lean on pain killers, so short walks, when my foot can handle it, or riding a stationary bike, is about all I can do. It’s too early to give up hope entirely, but it’s far enough along that amputation is increasingly a regular and realistic topic of discussion. When every step is painful, amputation sounds like an almost thrilling alternative.

The pain sucks, but the real struggle is uncertainty. Will it improve enough? How long do we wait? How will we know? Not being able to go run and play with the girls hurts almost as much as the pain that prevents it. They grow up so fast, and I truly fear missing out on far too many moments.

I’m comfortable with amputation, but after putting it off this long and giving a fusion a shot, jumping the gun seems a bit rash. There’s naturally a bit of selection bias, but I have yet to hear a story of elective amputation where the individual didn’t wish they had done it sooner.

My thinking lately is that it’s time to at least start talking to surgeons and prosthetists again. Since there’s no rush, and the holidays are coming up, that should mean a couple of months of appointments, research, and careful decision making. More than enough time for this foot to give us an idea of what it has planned. But who really knows. We’ll see.