It has been cold and rainy, so I thought I would introduce Robby to the joys of bead art. One brief demonstration and he was hooked. He happily spent the afternoon creating an array of bead hearts and happy faces. I melted them with the iron, creating a solid piece of "art." Robby was proud of his creations and eagerly waited for his Daddy to come home from work to hang them on the wall.
Robby showed Scott where he wanted his "gallery." I handed Scott a box of nails and told him that the hammer was downstairs. "No need for a hammer. Just hand me your leg." Yes, my prosthetic leg was used to drive several nails into the wall. As my cousin said, this is the most expensive hammer in the world!
This is not the first time that my leg has been utilized for a purpose other than walking. When he was younger, Robby loved trying to drop balls into the socket while sitting on the couch. He still enjoys a rousing game of "roll the truck into the leg" and let me tell you, nothing makes a more imposing mountain for a dinosaur rampage than Mommy's leg covered with a blanket!
I use my prosthetic to trample down the thorny brush which stands between me and the free raspberries at the park every summer. I never get scratched, but I did learn that poison ivy oil does adhere to the carbon fiber socket. I guess there is no such thing as a completely free berry.
I have found nothing more effective than my prosthetic for breaking up sticks and twigs for fire kindling.
On occasion, I have been known to take my leg off and use it knock cereal off the top shelf of the pantry. I wouldn't recommend doing this unless you are confident in your balance. I have also learned that you shouldn't do this unless you are absolutely positive that the cereal box is closed. I have already found myself standing on one leg in a shower of Lucky Charms.
There is no better way to knock on a door when my hands are full then kicking the door with my prosthetic. I can make an imposing sound without stubbing my toe! On more than one occasion Robby has asked me to fish small trucks and plastic animals out of a mud puddle with my "special leg."
I try to make sure that I sit next to Scott during dinners with our extended families. He often kicks me under the table in an attempt to silence me. If I position myself correctly, he can only reach my prosthetic. He hurts his foot and I don't feel a thing.
I no longer need to have a coffee table relax. I slip off my leg and position my residual limb on top. Voila.. an instant ottoman!
I suppose that turning my leg into a hammer is not surprising for our family. I have learned to depend upon my prosthetic to help me ambulate and to be independent, but I have learned to love it for its versatility.