I suppose when aspects of my life become beyond my control, I attempt to regain my sanity by becoming ultra-organized. I went to the doctor the other day and found out that I not only have one tumor, but "cluster tumors" on my pituitary gland. The good news is that these growths are rarely malignant. I am holding onto that blessing as I prepare for yet another surgery.
There is little I can do about the growths except to wait for the surgery and to comply with my physician's orders. Because I feel as if I am not doing anything proactive at the moment, I have been experiencing a compulsion to clean and to organize. We've lived in this house for nearly five years, and we still have yet to unpack all of boxes from our move.
Yesterday I decided to clean Robby's bedroom. I went through his clothes, organizing them into categories to donate and to throw away. I was saddened when I was holding the small little outfits, knowing that he was now too big and that he would never again be a little baby. After I was done with the clothes, I opted to continue by moving his furniture.
Robby's room had become a bit of a "catch all." Furniture was against every available wall, and he had no room to play. I wanted to create a space for him to play as well as to sleep. (To be honest, I also wanted to get some of the larger toys out of my bedroom.)
I worked for hours, cleaning and moving furniture. I pushed with my sound side, using my prosthetic foot as a brace. To my delight, I was able to move all of the furniture before Scott came home from work. I only sustained one small injury when the excess skin above my socket became pinched between the changing table and my prosthetic. Ouch!
Inspired by my work yesterday, I woke up this morning energized and excited about reorganizing our bedroom. Despite being married for five years, Scott and I still use our childhood dressers. We've been lamenting the lack of storage space for our clothing during the past few months. Shopping for a new dresser has been frustrating because it is difficult to find a piece of furniture low enough to fit under the huge television.
Remembering that the previous owners of this house left a dresser in the laundry room, I set out to find a tape measure and to get to work. I was delighted to discover that the "junk dresser" was the perfect height for the bedroom. All I had to do was carry it up to the bedroom.
I could have waited for Scott to come home from work. In retrospect, I should have waited for Scott to come home to help move the dresser. It was not the safest choice for me to move the large piece of furniture up two flights of stairs alone, with only a toddler to help should I become injured. Hind sight is 20/20 because I opted to do it alone.
Robby cheered me on and made constant "muscle" gestures to me as I was huffing and puffing while pushing the large dresser up the stairs. He even sang the theme song to "Bob the Builder" as I was humming "I Am Woman" while shifting precariously on a step with a large dresser bearing down on me.
I didn't have any problems until the very last step. I went to step up with my prosthetic, and my leg didn't budge. Because my vision was obstructed by the dresser, I tried to move my leg a little and yanked hard. I pulled my limb right out of my leg! Apparently the dresser was resting on my foot which would have been quite painful had it not been a prosthetic. I suppose I should add this experience to my "benefits of being an amputee" list.
I shifted the dresser slightly, freeing my prosthetic. I put my leg back on and continued to pull the dresser up the final stair. After the dresser was safely on flat ground, I examined my prosthetic. The weight of the dresser put a large dent in the foot shell. If I weren't an amputee, I am sure that I would be suffering with a broken foot tonight. Instead, I am looking for chalk to fill in the hole on my foot.
After 70 minutes, I managed to push the dresser up the stairs and safely into the bedroom. I opted to keep my activities secret during the day. I wanted Scott to be surprised when he came home and saw the bedroom. He came home from work, went into the bedroom and changed his clothes. He turned on the television and started to watch ESPN. Only after Robby pointed to the dresser did he notice. A little anti-climatic, but a satisfying day none the less.
- 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. This blogger is available for hire! Let's talk and learn how a blog can expand your business.