I am a below knee amputee. More importantly, I am also Mommy to two boys, a very active 10 year old (Robby) and an mischievous toddler (Timmy). I have learned that being a parent with a disability can create some unusual and sometimes humorous situations.
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I never thought I would hear myself mutter the words "I'm really lucky I'm an amputee." I surprised myself with these words, but I am happy that I am finally at a place where I can appreciate the little blessings.
I was grocery shopping this afternoon with Robby and Scott. My husband is an anomoly because he loves grocery shopping. On more than one occasion I have sent him to the store to pick up milk, and he returned an hour and a half later with a car full of grocery "bargains." He loves wandering through the aisles, searching through the dented boxes and cans for deals. He gets more excited when he finds a bargain on expiring meat than he did when I agreed to marry him.
Robby is Scott's polar opposite in the grocery store. He hates the entire process. He has lost his "bus cart" privileges until he is 30, which means he has to ride in the front of the cart. This gets him mad. I try to push the cart through the center of the aisles to thwart his attempt to "help" me shop.
Today, as I was trying to pick up cans of tomatoes, Robby was reaching to find his own canned "treasures" to throw into the cart. I don't use "throw" as a euphamism. He was, indeed, throwing the cans. Before I could react, a large can of beans landed directly onto my prosthetic foot. In unison, Scott and I both commented that I was lucky the can hit my prosthetic because it would have really hurt.
Knowing that Robby's tolerance was thinning, we checked out. After a much needed nap (for me, not as much for Robby) we got ready to go to the park. I remembered seeing blackberries starting to ripen, so I had Robby grab his dinosaur bucket.
Robby was very excited to pick blackberries. He eagerly pointed out the berries that were ripe. Unfortunately, blackberries grow on vines with a lot of thorns. The majority of the blackberries seemed to be located on the other side of the vines, necessitating me to walk through the interwoven, sharp plants to reach the prized fruit.
Good thing I have a prosthetic leg! I was able to trample down the brush and the vines with my prosthetic, and I never felt a scratch. We have a bucket full of ripe, sweet blackberries and I emerged from the picking excursion without a nick or scratch.
I have concluded that today, I am indeed lucky to have an amputation. Had it not been for my prosthetic, tonight I would be nursing a broken foot. I would have neosporin covering numerous cuts on my leg from the blackberry vines. Instead, I am enjoying a bowl of free berries and writing a blog.