The reality of Suzin Wells’ story is less about cinematic inspiration and more about a practical, no-nonsense approach to dealing with what life threw at her. As a former dementia ward worker from Western Australia, her life revolved around “life and horses,” a routine that was completely upended by a routine medical issue that spiralled out of control.
Her health problems started with a minor issue that quickly escalated into a multi-year medical ordeal. As Suzin told me for The Limb Shift podcast, to be launched in October 2026 for Amputee Awareness Week in Australia…
In twenty eighteen, I was working in a dementia ward, and I had a blister in my, right large toe, and I got an infectious bacteria in it and basically got sepsis and had to have, my big toe removed, but they didn’t get that all. And the front of my foot broke, and then the it was just come through my foot. So I slowly had bits and pieces of my foot chopped off. And, you know, obviously during that time you’ve got simultaneously you’ve got antibiotics and all that going through your system. So, you know, from twenty eighteen to twenty twenty one, that’s what I did.”
The heavy reliance on medical treatments brought its own set of severe complications, leaving her physically exhausted.
“And then, in twenty twenty one. In October, I got this infection. Took hold at the antibiotics weren’t working. So, you know, I’d had enough and my body had had enough. And I, you know, I had a couple I had a bout of C diff, which is colitis of the bowel, which happens when you have too many antibiotics and you get an infected bowel. And that’s nothing I would wish on my worst enemy. It’s not good. And I ended up being in hospital for three weeks on IV drips and stuff.”
After enduring twelve separate surgical procedures, an MRI finally revealed that the damage to the bone was irreversible, forcing a definitive decision.
“And they did an MRI unfortunately in they hadn’t done an MRI previously for some reason, but it just showed up the bone going up. My foot tracking up was just green, basically infected. And you know, it was not recoverable. So we amputated my right leg.”
Instead of dwelling on the loss, Suzin focused on the logistics of getting back to her normal routine as quickly as possible.
“That first process, that first three months of being really, like fairly active and able bodied to, one leg. Is is a lot. But it’s also, you know, if you’ve got goals and focuses it, you don’t focus on that. I think is a good thing. And like you focus on what you want to achieve. You know, how you can get get going again and what your new normal is. So maybe ten weeks after that amputation, I rode my horse with a heavy, rigid dressing on just one leg.”
The setback wasn’t a single event. Eighteen months down the road, she faced a matching scenario on her remaining leg, resulting in a below-the-knee amputation on the left side. Her response was simply to get back on the horse faster.
“And this one, I only I took three weeks until I jumped on my horse after this one. So I had a prosthetic leg and a heavy, rigid dressing on my left leg. And I remember thinking, you know, I just had to get it out of my system to do that one ride first and get, get back on. And, I did that. And my husband and my, my friend’s son Josh, they were like, oh, what are you doing? And I’m like, well, they go, okay, we’ll help you only if you walk. So, and I mean, my horse walking. And so I got on and clicked him up and went straight into canter and cantered around on him. And because he’s got a beautiful, you know, rocking horse, like riding a wave canter. And, I just felt at ease.”
This practical, self-reliant streak wasn’t new; Suzin had been managing her own way since she was a teenager, finding a way to ride despite tight financial constraints.
“My granddad was a racehorse trainer in Kalgoorlie when I was, before I was born. And I, my parents weren’t into horses at all. We didn’t. I didn’t come from money, so we couldn’t really afford it. And then when I was about fourteen… I got given a horse and I didn’t tell my parents, but I got a I got a job washing dishes at this function centre in Gooseberry Hill and I would earn, I think it was like thirty five dollars a week and I had to pay ten dollars a week. Agistment and then I bought spent twenty five dollars a week on horse feed and and stuff like that. And then after about three months, I told my parents that I’ve got this horse, but I’m paying for it myself, and I’ve been doing it for this long time.”
Though horse riding is in her DNA—her mother’s cousin is Clayton Fredericks, an Olympic eventing gold medallist for Australia—she largely figured it out on her own. When asked if she doubted her ability to return to riding post-amputation, she viewed it as a practical certainty rather than a miracle.
“No, I knew I would… There was no questions because I’d seen other people. I’ve seen people. I watched the Olympians, Paralympians ride with their teeth. I’ve watched people, you know, no arms ride… horses are very adaptable animals. And I knew there was never a question. As far as I was concerned. It was like, don’t tell. If you told me I couldn’t, then that would have probably been. I would have loved it because then I’d have to go and prove you wrong.”
Operating as a bilateral amputee on the national Australian para-equestrian squad comes down to managing daily logistical hurdles, like physical discomfort and scheduling around the weather.
“Well, obviously, I wear prosthetic legs. I have riding legs now. And you know, that’s always there’s always issues or problems with like the problem I have is with sweat, especially coming into summer. So I, I have to ride early in the morning so it’s not too hot. And I ride with two whips. I’m part of the National. I got classified, and I’m part of the national, Australian para equestrian squad for Australia… at the end of the day, everyone has something, and I’ve just got this and, you know, I’ve just got to keep going. What the alternative is sit on the couch and mope. And that only lasts. That can’t last for too long because you climb the walls.”
Her current focus remains on the practical steps required to stay competitive, whether that means travelling across the country to compete, breeding younger horses to offset high purchase costs, or working within the sport’s administrative committees.
“I’m just this chick from chick from Bunbury that lost her legs. And, I’m having a crack at it with, you know, horse that cost a fraction of that amount. So breeding some young horses that are of that calibre, and then having the right people around me to train them, and support me. Is is, key to thirty two? I’ll be sixty two years old. And I think, you know, there are older people than me, right? Than that age writing.”
Instead of overcomplicating her situation, she relies on a straightforward piece of advice passed down by her father: “don’t live in your pain body.” It’s a mentality that keeps her out of bed at 5:00 am every morning to work out and train her horses. Her ultimate outlook on handling life’s disruptions is plain and direct:
“Keep active, keep active. You know, pivot when you need to. If if your plan doesn’t go away, pivot, go on another work out another way. But don’t stop. Just do it. Do it with fear. Do it with no experience. Just just do it. You know, do it if you’re if you’re worried, just do it because you don’t know the outcome. And it could be it could it could be the greatest thing that happened to you.”