The Tales of an Amputee Mommy

Dinosaur Hunt

2012-02-02T05:14:00.002-05:00

The weather yesterday was unseasonably warm. I can't believe it is February and our coats aren't necessary! I couldn't fathom spending the day inside and missing out on the sunshine and warm breeze, so while Robby was at school I hatched a plan.

Instead of taking him home for lunch after school, I drove to his favorite park. It turns out that I was not the only mom with this idea= that place was packed. The climbing structures were crowded and, although he tried to integrate and play, Robby quickly abandoned the jungle gyms and asked to go on an explore.

I wasn't surprised when Robby began leading the way down to the stream. He loves throwing stones and climbing on the giant rocks in his favorite little hideaway, and with the warm temperatures and the absence of bugs, I knew that we were going to be there for several hours. Luckily I was prepared and packed snacks.

I was also happy that I wore my running leg in lieu of my Proprio. Feeling particularly energetic and motivated, I decided to join Robby on his climbing adventures. Walking across rock structures and trying to hop from stone to stone to cross the water is not an easy task for an amputee. I was constantly looking down and verifying my foot placement. To my delight, I only fell into the stream twice!

Drenched from bum to toes and tired from three hours of exploring fun, I was thrilled when Robby wanted to go home. On the way from the stream back to the park, my little guide noticed a path forking off the main trail. Curious, he decided it would be fun to take the path less traveled.

Within one turn we were in the middle of a densely wooded area. Robby was confident that we were in the haunted woods where the dinosaurs roamed. He was utterly convinced that we were the only humans to have walked this path. Thankfully he was oblivious to the used condoms littering the trail. Apparently the "dinosaur woods" is a favorite stomping ground for teenagers.

Steering him away from the used prophylactics on the ground, I tried to indulge Robby's imagination. He chatted about finding a dinosaur bone and how happy his friends would be if he brought one to school. I agreed that it would be super neat, but warned that dinosaur bones are hard to find.

As soon as those words came out of my mouth, Robby stopped. He began to jump up and down and pointed to the ground a few feet off of the path. "Momom, you are not going to believe this. I think that's a dinosaur bone."

Setting in the middle of a pile of leaves was a large, white bone. Robby is certain that he found a leg bone from a baby dinosaur. In reality it is probably from a dog, but I didn't have the heart to burst his bubble.

We brought the treasure home, where it was soaked in bleach for two hours. When it dried Robby, immediately put it in his backpack to show his friends at school tomorrow. I've sent his teacher an email explaining that Robby found a bone and is convinced that it is from a dinosaur. I'm sure that his little friends will be impressed with his discovery, and I'm hoping that nobody bursts his paleontology dreams.

Caregiver Help

2012-02-01T05:06:00.000-05:00

I have been doing a lot more peer visits during the past few weeks. Although I always feel emotionally drained afterward, I understand the fear that often accompanies losing a limb, and I am happy to help somebody else on their journey. I've often thought that my adjustment would have been easier had I had a mentor.

With each visit I am beginning to fully understand how much an amputation impacts the entire family, not just the patient. When I was preparing for my own surgery, my thoughts were consumed with my own fears, anxieties, and plans for the future. I wasn't able to look beyond myself to see how my family and friends were coping with the loss of my leg. Now that I'm in a different role, I am able to see the impact from a different perspective, and I am astounded with how profoundly a family can be affected.

I find that I am investing nearly as much time with the spouses, parents, siblings, and children as I am with the new amputee. Many times I am followed from the hospital room and into the elevator by a family member (or two) after my visit with a patient where I am peppered with additional questions. It is evident that the loved ones of new amputees are often struggling and need support. However, the needs of the new amputee often trump the needs of the caregiver, leaving the family searching for ways to help, cope, and adapt to the changes.

Although it's been nearly 9 years since my amputation, Scott avoids talking about the first few weeks after my surgery. It isn't a memory that makes him comfortable and he would rather not revisit that time. Finally, this past weekend after a particularly draining peer visit, we had one of our first conversations about his adjustment.

Only after our chat did I realize how profoundly Scott was affected. Obviously our lives changed and I am physically different. However, I never realized how he was impacted on an emotional level.

Scott felt like he couldn't grieve, at least not in front of me, for the loss of my foot. He had to remain strong, steadfast in his support and unwavering in his resolve that I was going to be okay. I learned that he worried and fretted about my future but he felt that he had to put on a positive face at all times. It's ironic because I was trying to be brave for him. I worried that had he known how lost I felt, he would have a more difficult time adjusting.

We were trying to protect each other but, in essence, we were isolating ourselves. We were both feeling the same fears and grieving a loss, yet our desire to "make everything okay" kept us from communicating those fears.

I've been amazed how simply asking how they were coping and validating their feelings can open up a flood of emotions. Asking the simple question of "How are you dealing with this?" can make a world of difference for a loving family member who is struggling to help and to adjust. I have been trying to reach out to the individual in the caregiver role more often because I am beginning to realize how much it means.

Resolution Update

2012-01-31T05:11:00.000-05:00

My resolution for 2012 was to be more accepting of my flaws and imperfections while taking better care of my emotional and physical well-being. We are one month into the New Year and, although I have meant well, I have hit some road blocks.

Between family issues, my workman's compensation issues, and various unforeseen health problems, my stress levels have skyrocketed. For many of these issues, the only thing that I can control is my response to the situation. Unfortunately, knowing that worrying is not going to change anything has been little deterrent.

I read several articles about the effectiveness of meditation to relieve anxiety. Throughout my day I have been diligent about trying to take small breaks in my routine so that I can regroup and try to calm down. I've tried to enjoy my minute vacations from reality, but unfortunately my worries keep sneaking up on me when I try conjure happy place. I always end up with a clenched jaw and tight shoulders in my frustrating attempts at relaxing.

I've been unsuccessful meditating, but I have rediscovered the benefits of exercise. Initially I experienced a lot of guilt exercising while Robby was at school. I felt compelled to put my time towards more productive activities, primarily work. When I picked him up from school I wanted to spend time with him and felt guilty taking time to myself. Needless to say, I spent much of his first semester in school feeling a lot of guilt- and not working out.

Since January I have made exercising a daily priority. After I drop off Robby in the morning, I come home and immediately begin my work-out routine. I have decided that I deserve 60 minutes everyday to strengthen my body and relieve my stress. In addition to feeling better, I have shed 6 pounds since Christmas!

Typically I would scold myself for faltering on my resolution. Instead, I am going to congratulate myself for making myself a priority for one hour each day. Meditation might not be my strength, and that's okay. Since I've been rediscovering the stress-busting benefits of exercise, I'm toying with the idea of taking up boxing. Something about hitting a bag hard seems appealing right now. I would try kickboxing, but I'm worried about my leg flying off.

Jumping Scared

2012-01-30T05:32:00.000-05:00

Robby has been looking forward to his friend Nick's birthday party for the past month. Nick and Robby became instant friends on the first day of school. My little guy loves a party, but the fact that this was a birthday party for his best friend- and that it was being hosted at Jumping Jimmy's (an inflatable playground for kids)- made the event near monumental in his mind.

Robby immediately began pestering me to take him to the party when he woke up on Saturday. I tried to divert his attention from the party but wasn't successful. By the time we were ready to leave, I'm not sure who was happier-- Robby because he could play with his friend or me because it meant that I didn't have to listen to his constant requests to go!

As soon as we entered the party complex, Robby shed his boots, the present, and his coat before he took off running after Nick and his friends. I was saying hello to Nick's Mom and hanging up Robby's coat when my cell phone rang. I was surprised when I saw my Mom's number on the caller ID because she knew that we were going to a birthday party so I immediately sensed that this was not going to be a good call.

It turns out that my sister Sheri was driving and became dizzy, pulled over and called my mom. By the time my Mom got to her location, my sister was nearly unresponsive. An ambulance was called and my sister was transported to the local hospital.

Hearing that news stopped me in my tracks. I was surrounded by happy jumping five and six year olds, yet I felt like I was in a dream. I was literally numb with fear and worry.

My Mom had no other details, and I knew that there was nothing that I could do. I felt so helpless, but I also knew that dragging Robby away from the party wouldn't accomplish anything other than disappointing him. I stayed at the party and tried to hide my anxiety and fears from the other parents.

Finally, after nearly two hours my Mom called back. It turns out that my sister had developed an infection in a hand laceration which was sustained earlier in the week. The infection caused her to become dizzy and pass out. She was put on heavy IV antibiotics and would undergo surgery to open the wound and clean out the infection.

Immediately my mind jumped to sepsis and the possibility of her losing her hand. I have come to know so many amputees who have lost limbs because of sepsis developing from a seemingly benign cut. I tried to remain upbeat but inside the anxiety was eating me up. I kept conjuring up worst case scenarios, including prosthetic hands. In that moment, the leap from a hand infection to an amputation didn't seem that far.

I hate that my mind instantly jumped to the worst case scenario. I've always considered myself to be an positive person who looks for the silver lining in every situation. In this case I suspect that my experience jaded my reaction. I've come to learn that there is no such thing as a "small" wound infection because it can rapidly spread without notice or cause.

Thankfully my sister's infection is under control and she is resting comfortably She is waking up in the hospital again this morning, but we are expecting her to be released this afternoon. With a continued course of antibiotics and with a freshly cleaned incision we are expecting a full recovery and are counting our blessings!

Just Wrong...

2012-01-27T04:57:00.001-05:00

At first glance, this public service ad is seemingly benign because promoting diabetes awareness is a cause I wholeheartedly support. With 507 new amputations occurring every day in this country, trying to increase an understanding between diabetes and limb loss is a noble cause.

However, after reading the accompanying article, I became disturbed by the photograph on the ad. I learned that the amputee on the ad is a PhotoShopped image. The model has both limbs and one was digitally removed for this picture.

I realize that images are digitally altered and enhanced as part of a normal editing process. Real life celebrities rarely resemble their photo images because PhotoShopping has become such an accepted norm. Despite the pervasive altering of images, I find this particular digital "enhancement" abhorrent.

There is an assumption that individuals portrayed on advertisements for "causes" have actually been directly impacted by that which they are promoting. I assume that the women featured on breast cancer commercials, touting to be survivors, have been diagnosed with breast cancer. I don't question the authenticity of these individuals because feigning such a devastating event would be in poor taste and would seem contrary to the awareness-raising endeavor. Using a bi-legged model and digitally removing a limb to create an amputee reeks of insincerity!

There are thousands of diabetic amputees throughout this country who would have been honored to participate in this awareness campaign. Why was somebody chosen who has not been impacted by limb loss to make the poignant connection between diabetes and amputation? With an active amputee community chomping at the bit to educate and to reach out to others, the effectiveness of this ad has been compromised by ignoring the population it is trying desperately to reach! In my opinion, using somebody who has actually experienced this complication would have been more effective and less insulting.

Stinky Business

2012-01-26T05:53:00.000-05:00

Yesterday morning Robby came bouncing into the living room, proclaimed that he was all better and asked for waffles for breakfast. He was so sick 24 hours ago that it is amazing how quickly he bounces back with a few doses of antibiotics and ibuprofen in his system. I wish I could recover as quickly!

Although he was feeling better, I knew that Robby was still recovering and needed to stay calm. Despite his protests and begging, I wouldn't let him go outside to play in the stream. He became upset when I wouldn't let him hop in the moon bounce and didn't understand why he wasn't allowed to ride his bike through the neighborhood. All of his ideas involved running, jumping or creating a mess. I wanted him to quietly play and stay calm. We were destined to butt heads all day.

Using logic by trying to explain that his body was still fighting an infection and that he needed to conserve his energy was fruitless. I finally conceded that yes, I was a "mean mean Momom" but that I wasn't changing my mind. I put on a Tom and Jerry cartoon in the living room and retreated to my bedroom for a few moments of quiet.

Enjoying my brief respite, I happily sipped on coffee and caught up on Facebook. All of a sudden I heard little feet tramping down the hallway. Robby ran into my room and quickly slammed the door behind him. This was not a good sign!

Out of breath, Robby said, "Whatever you do Momom, don't go into the living room. Don't ever go into the living room again. Your bedroom is nice. We can just live here. Please, Momom, Please. Don't go out there." Yikes- certainly not the words I wanted to hear. Being that emphatic that I not go somewhere is a surefire sign that he has done something bad.

I put on my leg and walked past my panting little boy. He continued to plea, "Momom, I wouldn't go out there if I were you." I asked him what he had done as I nervously walked down the hallway. He simply muttered, "Oh, this is not going to end good."

Turning the corner to the living room I was overwhelmed with the recognizable stench. I took a sniff and looked at Robby. "Well Momom, I saw stink bugs so I decided to whack them with my yellow hammer. I squished them- and all of their stink- on the walls. I'm sorry. I don't think that squishing the stinky bugs was my best decision."

I spent the next two hours trying to get rid of the odoriferous results of Robby's bug slaughter. The bugs, or rather what was left of them, were scraped off of my walls and thrown outside. I scrubbed the walls with Pine-Sol, adding an evergreen scent to mingle with the bug odor. I tried spraying Lysol, which only provided an artificial fresh linen scent layering over the putrid smells of pine and bugs. The overwhelming mixture of smells was beginning to make me nauseous.

Despite the cold temperature outside, I admitted defeat and opened up the windows. Robby and I retreated to the bedroom while the area aired out. Curling up on my bed to watch Scooby Doo, Robby looked at me and said, "See Momom, I told you. You shouldn't have gone out there. It's better in here." I think tomorrow he'll be well enough to go back to school.

Sick Boy

2012-01-25T05:26:00.000-05:00

Robby happily skipped into school Monday morning. After giving me a hug he assumed his assigned position on the green carpet and waved goodbye. He was not the same child when I picked him up.

I took one look at Robby through the classroom window and I instantly knew that something was wrong. He was pale, had deep purple circles and bright red ears. He smiled when he saw me but he was not nearly as animated as normal. His teacher told me that he complained of being dizzy but did not register a fever when she checked. I suspected that would soon change.

Two hours later Robby was sobbing because of the pain in his ears. Seeing Robby's eyes swollen from tears broke my heart. I knew that he was in pain and, aside from trying to offer comfort, I couldn't do anything to make him better. It's so hard being a Mom when your child is hurting!

I made two phone calls. I called his pediatrician who asked me to bring him into the office, and I then called Scott who said that he would meet us there.

Scott was at the pediatrician's office when Robby and I arrived and carried our sick little guy into the office. We were immediately ushered into the examination room. Within minutes the doctor was examining Robby and confirmed my suspicions. Both ears were infected- again!

Although it isn't easy for me, Scott has a particularly difficult time seeing Robby sick. His face instantly melts and his heartache is evident whenever our little guy is in pain or isn't feeling well. When the doctor took Robby's temperature and said that it was 104 degrees, I was fairly confident that my husband was going to faint.

I put Robby down and took Scott's hand. Our pediatrician brought a chair over and instructed Scott to sit down. In a comforting tone she said, "Mr. Chenoweth I need you to take a deep breathe and try to calm down. Here, sit down and try to relax, let me get you a drink of water. It's going to be okay. He is sick now but he will start feeling better as soon as he has the medication." Scott kept shaking his head with worry while muttering, "His little fever is so high... poor little guy."

She handed him a cup of water and the prescription for antibiotics. I was instructed to make sure that they both drink a lot of fluids, stay comfortable and rest. Within a few minutes Scott regained his composure and went to the pharmacy to fill the prescriptions. I took Robby home and tucked him into bed.

Scott always rises to the occasion and earns "Super Dad" stripes when Robby is sick. He had to drive to five pharmacies before locating the ear drops to help alleviate the pain and discomfort. He made sure that the antibiotics were flavored "very cherry" and even had the pharmacist add an extra shot of flavor to the ibuprofen. After the sun went down and we were all in our pajamas Robby asked for SpongeBob macaroni and cheese. Without saying a word, Scott got dressed, put on his coat and drove to the grocery store.

He may not be good at seeing Robby sick, but he is fantastic at helping to make him better! Between the various cherry flavored medications coursing through his system, the ear drops providing numbing relief and a lot of tender loving care, Robby is on the mend. I think after another day at home, he'll be ready to go back to school. In the meantime, I foresee an afternoon of Scooby Doo and The Flintstones is in my future.

Happy Feet

2012-01-24T06:35:00.000-05:00

During a recent visit to my mom's house, I was excited when I read that her local movie theater was showing a matinee of Happy Feet 2 because Robby has been chomping at the bit to go see the movie. Unfortunately, movies are expensive. It typically costs at least $30 for the two of us to see a matinee, making it cost prohibitive for our family. The small theater near my Mom specializes in second run movies, and tickets are sold at the budget friendly price of $2.50! He was delighted when I surprised him with an afternoon movie date.

Memories flooded me when I entered the small theater. I used to see movies there when I was Robby's age. Although it has been refurbished since I was a child, it looked the same as I remembered. Sitting next to Robby felt oddly surreal, almost as if my life has gone full circle.

The theater showed a Tweety Bird short film before the feature movie, but Robby was not amused by the cartoon. He became agitated that Sylvester the Cat was being beaten up, run over, and hit in the head with hammers by a little yellow bird. He ended up closing his eyes and, when the show was finally over, sighed and said, "I don't want to see that again. Thank goodness that's over!"

Robby was, however, utterly delighted by Happy Feet 2. He gleefully rooted for the little penguins, cheering and stomping as they danced on the snow. The film quickly became an interactive event with the audience stomping and dancing along with the penguins and seals.

In the final scene of the movie, the penguins, seals, and other arctic friends had to dance to loosen up an iceberg to free the stranded penguins. Robby along with the other young audience took this task seriously. The theater was filled with the sounds of stomping feet and clapping hands. (I admit that I was also dancing along, hoping to free the penguins.)

For few tense moments following the crashing iceberg, the theater became quiet. We didn't know if the stranded penguins survived the crashing ice. Once the snow settled, the penguins were revealed, alive and free. Robby instantly threw his arms in the air as if he had just made a touch down and screamed, at the top of his lungs, "Hallelujah, they're free!"

The adults in the audience began to chuckle at Robby's enthusiastic outburst. Considering that we are not devout in our church attendance, I have to admit I was certainly surprised by his word choice. He is nothing if not spirited!

Sled Time!

2012-01-23T04:59:00.000-05:00

Friday night all I wanted to do was curl up with Robby in front of a fire, roast marshmallows while watching a movie, and go to bed early. After the stress and emotional turmoil of the previous few days, I was running on fumes and needed to decompress. Thankfully, Robby did not need convincing to go along with my plans!

After gorging on quasi-burnt marshmallows and finishing Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs, Robby surprised me by happily hopping into his race car bed for the night. I was delighted that it was 8:30 and, had I not been so tired, I probably would have skipped to bed. I turned on the electric blanket, turned off the tv, popped off my leg, and snuggled in for a long nights sleep.

As soon as I laid down, my leg began to do the jitterbug kick. Then the stinging sensations began. At first it was felt like it was on of my stump, but quickly migrated across my whole limb. For good measure, my missing toes decided to join my phantom pain party. My big toe felt like it was being twisted in a vice. At one point I was sweating because of the pain.

At 1:00 I finally broke down, put on my leg, and went to the kitchen to get some Tylenol PM. Although I hate taking sleep aids, in retrospect I should have admitted pain defeat earlier as I could have saved myself a lot of pain and lost sleep. As it turned out, the pills worked quickly, and I was asleep in about 30 minutes.

In the morning, Robby walked into our bedroom and squealed with delight when he looked out the window. The ground was covered with snow! My phantom pain episode suddenly made perfect sense: my leg always hurts when it is snowing! Although I was groggy, I knew that I was destined for hours of sledding fun. After all, Santa gave Robby a super cool new sled that has remain unused because of the unseasonable winter.

Despite his protests, I insisted that Robby drink a cup of milk and eat an Eggo before going outside. I quickly chugged two mugs of coffee before giving the go-ahead to get bundled in his winter gear. Not wanting to waste anytime, Robby put his snow pants over his SpongeBob pajamas, put his gloves on the wrong hands, and forgot about wearing boots. Thankfully, Daddy was at the bottom of the steps to fix his wardrobe malfunctions!

Robby ran to the top of our hill and stopped where he wanted the sled placed. I put the sled down and Robby hopped on. I tried to remind him how to use the brake, but he immediately stopped my instruction. "Momom, I don't plan on stopping. I am going to go super fast and I don't need a brake." I ignored his pleas for speed and refused to let him ride until he finished the safety lesson.

Finally, it was the moment of truth. Robby was poised on the sled and gave the ready signal. I gave him a small push. My little boy, in his cherished new sled, went flying down our hill.

I have to admit I was surprised by the speed of his little sled. He went zooming down the hill. My heart skipped a beat when I saw him slide across the ice covered driveway; I felt a surge of panic and took off running when I saw Robby and his sled go down the embankment leading to his tree house. I couldn't see him for a few seconds, but my fears were quickly alleviated when I heard him scream "Wahoo! That was so amazing! I'm the bestest sledder in the whole world!"

Robby, it turns out, is an excellent sled driver. He was able to steer the sled between the tree house footers with ease. We only had an inch of snow, yet we were able to play all afternoon. Even Scott and I took turns on the sled and the decision is unanimous. His new sled is awesome!

Saturday night I was exhausted, but this time the cause was physical rather than stress induced, and I found myself going to bed at 8:30. Thankfully, I had no problems going to sleep. I still woke up sore, but this time it was from sledding. I'm reminded that I'm getting too old to go zooming down hills on a child sized sled.

A Good End

2012-01-20T05:05:00.000-05:00

It has been a long time since I've had a week as stressful as this one. I am ecstatic that it is finally Friday- primarily because it means that the week is over. Technically, my situation will remain unchanged for the next several weeks, but somehow knowing that this week is coming to a close feels comforting.

I was fully prepared to spend yesterday pouting and wallowing. I even invited a half gallon of Whoopie Pie ice cream and a freshly baked chocolate cake to my pity party. Fortunately, Robby had other plans for my time and my less than productive plans were derailed. It's impossible to remain deflated when you have a precocious Kindergartner chomping at the bit to do science experiments!

We spent the afternoon analyzing various water samples under the microscope. He took water from the refrigerator, the faucet and the stream. He was certainly in a curious mode! I did put my foot down and refuse his request when I wouldn't let him pee on a microscope slide. He claimed that I was "interfering with important science stuff" and refused to speak to me for about five minutes. Unbeknownst to him, his protest afforded me the quietest five minutes of my day!

I was forgiven when I suggested we go outside to hunt for dinosaur bones. He happily commenced whacking rocks with his hammer, hoping to uncover "dead animals inside rocks that are called fossils." Mr. Bill came over, and Robby told him what he was doing.

Without missing a beat Mr. Bill walked to his house and began to dismantle his stone fence. Robby followed and helped move the rocks, chatting about fossils and his hopes for finding some. Still silent, Mr. Bill carefully selected a flat rock and handed it to Robby.

Robby and Mr. Bill spent the next hour splitting the rock into two pieces. With the exception of an occasional direction, very few words were exchanged between the two friends. I was impressed with how attentive Robby was on the project, especially since he didn't know the purpose. I wish he would focus that much when I ask him to help clean.

With one final strike, the rock opened up. Hundreds of small fossilized snails and shells were uncovered. Robby threw the hammer down and began to gleefully jump. "Holy Macaroni! We discovered fossils! That's amazing. It's blowing my mind, Mr. Bill." Smiling, Mr. Bill leaned over to me and quietly whispered, "Ms. Dominique is going to $hit her pants when Robby actually brings in a fossil, isn't she. This should curry some favor when she grades Robby's penmanship test tomorrow!"

I am glad that my day of wallowing was interrupted. I had a great time with Robby and Mr. Bill, and the activities kept my mind off of my frustrations. To the delight of my waistline and bum, I even managed to leave the cake and the ice cream untouched! Yesterday was a good day in an otherwise abysmal week.

Young Skippy

2012-01-19T05:17:00.000-05:00

After a lot of debate, Scott and I decided to reserve a hotel room and schedule an impromptu mini vacation Tuesday night. I knew that a lot of my anxiety would be alleviated just by knowing that I was closer to the location of the hearing and that I wouldn't have to navigate the dreaded beltway at rush hour. Robby was excited beyond words when we revealed that, not only was he going to be missing school the next day, but also that he was going to be spending the night in a hotel.

Just as we were walking out of the house to drive to the hotel, our phone rang. I went vaulting for the receiver when I heard the caller ID announce that it was my attorney's office. After all, I haven't heard from the man in months.

I was surprised when, instead of my attorney, another man introduced himself when I answered the phone. He explained that he worked in the same law office and that he would be representing me at the hearing tomorrow. Great, I thought. It figures that they would send a lackey to represent me!

He then asked to meet with me a few minutes before our scheduled time, and asked about how to identify me. I was not in the most gracious of moods at this juncture in the conversation. "I can wear a yellow rose in my hair if that helps. Of course, you could always just look for the carbon fiber foot. Chances are it will be me attached to it!" After a nervous laugh, his responded by saying, "Oh yeah, I forgot that you had one of them." Needless to say he did not instill great confidence!

Wednesday morning I was nervous as I waited in the courthouse lobby. Lawyer after lawyer entered, each walking directly to his client. I was alone and becoming more anxious by the moment.

Then, through the window I saw my attorney. Although we hadn't met, I knew him instantly. His suit was about 2 inches too short in the sleeves, his tie was tied too long, and his shirt was halfway untucked from his pants. For some reason, he looked like his friends would call him "Skippy."

Skippy was nice, albeit extremely young. We briefly spoke about my case and, after fumbling with paper for about 10 minutes, he told me he felt confident. I knew better, but I just had to ask how long he has been with the firm.

Young Skippy began to fidget in his seat. He tried to tell me that he has been doing this his entire life because his father was an attorney and the founder of the law firm. He told me a story about having to drive to get his Dad when clients would call because cell phones were not yet commonplace. I knew he was trying to evade the question and doing a bad job at it!

Finally, I looked at him and said, "You just graduated from law school, didn't you." Playing with the paperwork in the file, he said, "Um.. yes. But I did an internship." Turns out that Young Skippy just graduated last month and that I am among his first cases. My confidence level was not advanced! We were silent until the proceedings began.

When my case was called, I stood at attention. Unfortunately, Skippy and I were the only two standing. Opposing counsel was not in the courtroom.

After some scrambling and a flurry of phone calls, it was revealed that the attorney for the insurance company forgot about the hearing and was comfortably sipping his coffee 60 miles away in Baltimore. The judge ordered a continuance. Without being able to utter a word, my day in court ended. I will have to continue to wait.

To say that I'm angry would be an understatement. I am absolutely livid, deflated, confused, and heartbroken. Today I hope to decompress and gather my thoughts. Right now I'm feeling lost, and I don't like it. I know that I'll regroup and continue to fight because I have no other option. But today, I think I'll just curl up with a book and hide from the world.

My Statement

2012-01-18T05:39:00.000-05:00

Well, today is the big day. I can't say that I'm prepared because I have been provided with no expectations of what will transpire. I can honestly say that I am ready to attend the hearing, put the stress behind me, and move forward with my life.

I always feel better when I feel prepared. Lacking any guidelines for what might happen, I have taken it upon myself to write my own statement. I'm not sure if I will be provided with an opportunity to share my perspective, but I will be prepared if allowed to speak. Here is my speech:

Every morning I wake up and put on my prosthetic leg. I live my life with a physical reminder of somebody else's negligence. The accident that occurred on March 11, 1998, was not my fault. I was simply the victim of circumstance by standing in the wrong place at the wrong time. Yet I am forced to live with the consequences of that mistake every single day knowing that the careless coworker probably doesn't even remember my name.

Although my life was changed by the accident and the subsequent amputation of my left foot and ankle, I have always aspired to live a fully engaged life. I'm not disabled by my limb loss. I am disabled by the bureaucratic red tape of this insurance carrier.

Since my amputation in 2003, I have habitually been denied standard prosthetic care. I find myself forced to fight for basic supplies needed to utilize my prosthetic. Liners, which Medicare issues every six weeks, are historically denied by this carrier. I am forced to compromise my prosthetic fit and the health of my limb while they wage a battle of paper and denials.

I have been offered wheelchairs in lieu of a prosthetic because the carrier could save money. Your Honor, I would be severely impaired if I lived my life in a wheelchair. My ability to access my home, which has two flights of stairs, would be limited if I were in a wheelchair. I am physically capable of walking with a prosthetic. I don't believe that walking is a privilege for the selected few. It is the right of every amputee who has the ability and the desire. I deserve the tools necessary to walk, regardless of the financial costs incurred! I am outraged by the implication that I should settle for anything less than standard prosthetic care.

I have work and family responsibilities, yet all of these must be put on hold every time this insurance carrier denies a claim. I have had days when I couldn't work- not because of pain but because prosthetic supplies were denied by the carrier. My life, and my ability to fully engage and reach my potential, has been hijacked by an insurance carrier who values the bottom line over its responsibilities to the patient.

I did not ask to be injured, nor did I do anything to cause the accident which ultimately claimed my foot. Over the years I have made peace with the fact that a mistake caused such a drastic impact on my life. The true irony of this situation lies with the knowledge that the accident on March 11. 1998, was the only true "mistake" made. Every denial and every obstacle that has been placed in my path since that date has been deliberately perpetrated.

I will never accept being handicapped by an insurance carrier attempting to shirk its responsibilities. I deserve the necessary devices for me to walk without swimming through a sea of denials and red tape. My amputation is not going to go away, and either will I. I will continue to fight for my care.

Now, if I can only get through this speech without my voice quaking...

Anxiety Hearing...

2012-01-17T05:34:00.000-05:00

My body has developed a horrible pattern of internalizing stress. For the past week, I have been clenching my teeth so strongly that it is both painful and difficult for me to move my jaw in the morning. In addition to my jaw, I have apparently been tensing my biceps during my sleep, leaving me with sore arms the next day. For good measure, my lower back has decided to join the party by developing a pinched nerve, rendering it painful for me to sit, move, and walk. It is safe to say that stress is making me fall apart!

This is a week wrought with anxiety. On Wednesday I have a court hearing where I must lobby (again) for prosthetic supplies and adequate limb care. Because my attorney has been unresponsive, I don't feel prepared for this hearing. I detest not being adequately prepared!

My only communication with my "advocate" was sent by form letter, announcing the hearing and reminding me that the preceding was "formal and that I should dress appropriately." I wanted to call his office and ask if my wedding dress was formal enough, but I decided that he probably wouldn't bother to listen to the message, so the joke would be lost. He has been markedly vague about the purpose of the hearing and why it is being held. I have been left guessing about what might transpire and my imagination has been conjuring some nightmare scenarios!

As if my fretting about the hearing hasn't caused enough worry, I have been stressing about my driving to the hearing. It is scheduled for 9:30 AM on the other side of the DC beltway. I am typically a comfortable driver, but I hate driving on the beltway at rush hour.

Wednesday morning I am going to have to wrangle with other rush hour commuters who are far more familiar and comfortable with the congested roads. I feel silly admitting that the prospect of my driving in rush hour DC traffic has been causing me to lose sleep. In the wee hours of the morning, I find myself worrying about getting lost or being in an accident, forcing the hearing to be cancelled and further delaying my treatment.

I am angry with my attorney for deliberately leaving me out of the loop on my own case despite my pleas for communication and information. Right now I don't have time for anger, but I know that I will deal with the situation after Wednesday. In the meantime, I am just going to try to gather my thoughts and jot down some ideas for tomorrow's hearing. Hopefully, my fears about the commute are unfounded and everything goes smoothly.

So much will be decided by the events of Wednesday. This is going to be an important milestone in my life, and I want to make sure that I represent myself competently and accurately. I really don't want my voice to quake when I speak! I'll be happy when Wednesday will be over because, either way, I'll be able to plan for the next few months. I'm also hoping that my stress will decrease and I'll be able to walk, move my jaw and use my arms again!

My Hero Worship Theory

2012-01-16T05:22:00.000-05:00

For months I have been trying to figure out why my able-bodied peers are so easily impressed by my living my life. Finally, in the wee hours of the morning on yet another sleepless night, I had an epiphany! While I am by no means a psychologist, I wanted to share my theory.

I have long believed that losing a limb is a deep seated fear for most. If I had just one dollar for every time I have heard, "I wouldn't be able to continue" or "I don't know how you do it; you're so strong" I would be a rich lady. Most look at an amputee and instantly think pain, disfigurement, and disability. They fail to realize that the surgical pain wanes, that the mind slowly adjusts to a new body image. In reality, limb loss is something that must be experienced in order to fully grasp the personal evolution. I used to challenge the unnecessary compliments, but I quickly discovered that it wasn't worth the argument. I have learned simply to say thank you and move on.

Casual acquaintances often shower me with accolades without my doing anything remarkable. I assure you that I don't need praise because I finished the laundry, went grocery shopping, or took my son to school. These are tasks most parents do on a regular basis. The fact that I live my life relying upon a prosthetic is simply a part of my reality, not a reason for hero worship. However, if the self-soothing makes them feel better, I won't point out the flawed logic.

On an unconscious level, most people rationalize reasons that limb loss will never happen to them. This is accomplished several ways, the most obvious is blaming the amputee. The diabetic hears whispers, "She should have taken better care of her blood sugar." The traumatic amputee might overhear, "What was he doing driving that late at night," whereas the soldier "knew what he signed up for." I believe that this judgment is an attempt to separate the amputee from society. Coming up with a cause that could have been avoided is a way of justifying that a limb loss won't happen to them.

Trying to rationalize why bad things happen is human nature. I think it makes people feel better to believe that I had the strength and fortitude to overcome the obstacles, hence the amputation happened to me instead of them. It is simply too overwhelming for the average person to believe that limb loss can happen to him at anytime. I won't contest the praise and accolades and will continue to smile graciously, but I think that the compliments hide a common and pervasive fear.

Special Memories

2012-01-13T04:56:00.000-05:00

In addition to receiving the highly coveted archery set, Robby also opened a variety of science themed gifts on Christmas. His teachers encouraged us to consider chemistry and laboratory kits to cater to his aptitude for science. I'm so glad that we heeded their advice; Robby has embraced his new "science tools and treasures."

Nearly every afternoon Robby pushes his learning tower over to the kitchen counter, retrieves a science kit from the pile of toys that still haven't been put away, and eagerly begins his "scientist work." I'm not allowed to participate, but he does permit me to read the directions to him. We have worked our way through three of his laboratory kits already!

The microscope, sent to him by his Candy Papaw, has quickly become a prized item by Robby. He loves looking at the slides and has spent countless hours making his own "specials" (I think he means to say specimen but he can't pronounce the word correctly). A few nights ago he prepared slides to examine butter, egg whites and the water from the cat fountain under the microscope.

Robby jumped on the break in the both the cold temperatures and rain to obtain additional "specials" samples. He has been begging to go down to the stream to obtain samples of water, mud, and assorted muck for examination. Since the weather was no longer a valid excuse, we switched out his cowboy boots for his froggy boots and headed down to the stream.

After filling an empty bottle with stream water, Robby began to chat about what he was going to see under the microscope. "Momom, it's a mystery and Scientist Robby is here to solve it. I'm going to look at this water for memories." I was a tad confused until he explained his rationale. Per Robby logic, the water holds clues about its past; therefore, he is looking at the "water memory."

He had a great time splashing and playing in the stream as he searched for samples and was covered in wet, cold mud by the time we came inside. Who would have thought that being a scientist would be so dirty!

After a quick bath Scientist Robby got straight to work, preparing his water slides for examination. Scott came home just as Robby was looking through the eye piece. When asked about what he was doing, without pausing or looking up Robby said, "Just looking at special memories, Daddy." A truer sentiment could not have been uttered...

Turning Around a Bad Day...

2012-01-12T06:42:00.000-05:00

Every once in awhile, a rainy day is nice. Yesterday was not one of those days. The combination of the cold temperatures and constant downpour created a perfect storm for limb pain. Of course, the fact that my socket is still not perfect did not help the situation! When my stump hurts, it makes even the simplest task laborious and difficult.

I began my day by donning my prosthetic. I put it on and removed it three separate times in my attempt to achieve a comfortable fit. I wasn't successful. My limb felt squished and sore. As I hobbled to the kitchen to get my first cup of coffee, I quickly abandoned all illusions of completing any housework. I resigned myself to a day of prosthetic misery and pain.

It was pouring down rain when I picked Robby up from school. He was bursting with energy and jumping in puddles on the way to our car. Between my pain and his pent up energy, I knew it was going to be a long day! Driving out of the parking lot I was struck with a moment of inspiration; I turned the car around and drove straight to Jumping Jimmy's.

On my way to the inflatable utopia, I called to invite Robby's friend Nick. Nick's mom is studying to be a nurse and has been inundated with schoolwork. I was hopeful that the two boys could bounce and play into exhausted bliss, while she and I would be afforded some quiet time to work in the lounge.

Robby was delighted when Nick joined him to bounce and play. The two boys ran and played throughout the afternoon, only talking to us when they wanted water or a snack. Because he had a playmate, I wasn't even asked to bounce with him!

Although we both brought our laptops, we did not get any work done. Instead we spent the afternoon sipping coffee, talking and swapping stories. Although I would have liked to have knocked at least something off of my to do list, it was nice to just sit and chat with a friend. I realized that it has been a long time since I have allowed myself the luxury of time for fostering my own friendships.

Robby and Nick bounced and played for almost three hours. I was grateful for the time off my leg while still being able to score "World's Best Momom" points with Robby. As a bonus, I managed to turn a lousy and painful day into a wonderfully relaxing and fun afternoon!

Robby's Song...

2012-01-11T05:03:00.000-05:00

When Scott and I first began dating, I used to try to avoid singing in front of him because I know that I have absolutely no vocal talent. Unfortunately for my audience, what I lack in talent I make up for in enthusiasm. Within a few months of dating, my self-imposed singing ban was history and I was back to belting out the tunes.

I've been singing to Robby since he was born. I had a song that I would sing when feeding him with a bottle, changing his diapers and giving him a bath. He inherited my love, and unfortunately my talent, for singing. Now Scott suffers through both of us belting out tunes in the car, in the kitchen and now on our karaoke machine.

The radio is constantly playing in my house and car. Much to my husband's chagrin, I love country music and show tunes. I can belt out Carrie Underwood with the best of them. Well, maybe not as good as the best of them, but certainly as loud!

I have a selection of kid's CD's for Robby, but I often forget to turn them on in the car. Usually my music is playing as Robby sings along in his car seat, happily keeping the beat with his foot against the back of the passenger seat in front of him. He has no inhibitions when it comes to singing. My poor little guy is going to be deflated when he learns that others will not appreciate his abilities as much as his Momom!

Due to my room mom duties, I happened to be in Robby's classroom during "circle time." The teacher went through the morning routine, talking with each child and discussing the agenda for the day. I was trying to stay focused on my task, but it was difficult not to watch Robby's interaction with his peers. I felt a burst of maternal pride when I watched him sitting on the little green carpet, attentively listening and participating with his class.

Trying to keep the children engaged while the craft centers were being set up, his teacher asked each child to sing their favorite song. The first little girl started. She began to softly sing "Twinkle twinkle little star." Within one line the class joined in and sang along. The little boy next to Robby chose to sing "If you are happy and you know it clap your hands" and, again the class sang along.

I put down my paper and watched Robby as he stood to sing his favorite song. He coyly smiled in my direction, and took a deep breathe. Without a tremble, my little boy began to belt out his chosen song.

My face immediately went flush when I heard the first few words of his song. His teacher looked perplexed. Obviously she is not a fan of country music.

"Rain makes corn. Corn makes whiskey." At this moment I silently began to pray that he would not continue with the tune. And then I heard his loud, yet off key little voice continue "Whiskey makes my baby, feel a little frisky." My plea was not answered. Sigh.

Ray-Man

2012-01-10T05:10:00.000-05:00

On any given weekend, Scott can spend hours playing video games. I have never embraced computer games which is why it was ironic that I was the one who shopped for our Wii. I was utterly convinced that the Wii, along with the Wii Fit program, was the answer to my fitness conundrum. I quickly realized that I'm not a gamer and that I didn't enjoy using the console. The balance board (the integral part of the Wii fit program) has been stowed under my bed for the past 18 months.

We've tried to introduce Robby to the Wii, but our attempts only ended in frustration tantrums. He never seemed interested and, except for the Just Dance programs that he enjoyed with me, seemed to be indifferent. The console was quickly becoming an expensive dust-collector/ paperweight.

I was surprised, and admittedly skeptical, when Scott bought Robby a Wii game for Christmas. I was prepared for the game to sit on a pile, unused by Robby because of his Wii aversion. I don't know if it is a few months maturity or because we finally found a good game, but Scott hit a home run with this gift!

Robby now counts down the hours until Scott comes home from work so that they can play Ray-Man Origins on the Wii. The two boys can spend hours playing together as they try to make it through a fantasy world which I don't understand. Belly laughter and shouts of "go over there... pop my bubble" echo through the living room every afternoon. The pair even invented a little dance that they perform whenever they move to the next level.

Although I have been encouraged to learn how to play this game, I have declined. This activity is best for the two of them. Right now he accepts the "Momom doesn't know how to do this. You'll have to wait for Daddy" rationale. The truth is, I don't like video games, and I have no interest in learning this one!

Although I am not a gamer, I have learned to appreciate their enthusiasm. With Robby and Scott playing every afternoon, I find myself with the luxury of an hour by myself. I'm beginning to fall back in love with our Wii!

My New Friend

2012-01-09T05:20:00.001-05:00

On Friday I had a minor surgery to drain the cyst on my ovary. I'll spare the details, but I will admit that it was both uncomfortable and left me in pain and feeling ill for much of the weekend. Thankfully I'm beginning to rebound and slowly starting to feel like myself again.

I didn't feel sick enough to warrant staying in bed all weekend, but I did feel icky enough to keep me from tackling my weekend To do list. Per my New Year's Resolution, I am not fretting or berating myself. (Okay, maybe a little but I realize that I'm doing it, so that counts for something, right?)

Saturday afternoon we piled into the car and drove to visit a new friend in the hospital. She was scheduled for an amputation the next day and asked to meet with an amputee before the surgery. I will never forget the fear that I felt in the days preceding my amputation, so despite feeling sore, I was happy to oblige.

Meeting with somebody preparing for an amputation always dredges up a myriad of painful emotions that I prefer to keep buried. Seeing the fear in the eyes of somebody else brings me back to the days before my amputation. Sitting with her in her hospital room, I felt like I was transported back in time. I will never forget the anxiety and the gut wrenching fear that I felt before my surgery. Although I knew that I was making the correct decision, I have never been as terrified in my life!

I try to lend a supportive ear during these visits, but I always leave feeling woefully inadequate. I don't know the words that will make everything okay. How do I convince somebody that, although the adjustment will be difficult, they will emerge stronger through the process?

I know that losing a leg is not the end of the world because I have lived with limb loss. I also realize that there is no way I can convince a new amputee that everything will be okay. That is a lesson that each person has to learn and experience on his own.

Saturday afternoon I sat with my new friend and answered her questions, validated what she was feeling, and told my story. I reiterated that I am a happy, active and well-adjusted woman who happens to be an amputee. I wish I could have done more to help. Despite my wanting to rescue her and make everything okay, I've learned that simply lending support is all that I can do. The rest is going to be up to her, but she won't be alone on this journey!

Seasonal Precautions

2012-01-06T05:25:00.000-05:00

I try to enjoy every season. After all, there is nothing that my complaining about the cold, heat, leaves or rain will accomplish, so I might as well try to enjoy myself. Robby loves playing in the snow and going sledding. Because I love watching him so happy and playing with him, we have both been anxious for snow. Unfortunately, we haven't been able to take his new sled on a test slide yet.

But with the frosty temperatures I have no doubt that the fluffy flakes will soon be falling. My house has been weatherized for maximum efficiency. Unfortunately, living in a home comprised primarily of windows the term "maximum efficiency" does not equate warm; it simply implies "less drafty." In the process of winterizing, I managed to unlock a hidden talent. It seems that I have a knack for putting up plastic sheeting without wrinkles or tears!

With the house sealed, yesterday I turned my attention to my leg. The plunging thermometer always causes an increase in phantom pain! When my stump is cold, I am simply miserable. As Robby says, "When Momom is hurting, nobody is happy."

I began by digging through Scott's sock drawers and pulling all of his tube socks that have holes. I discovered the first winter after my amputation that his tube socks fit perfectly over my limb. The sock is snug enough to stay in place but isn't tight enough to be uncomfortable. I seek the ones with holes as a courtesy so I don't stretch out his good socks.

With my stump socks identified, I rummaged through the closet until I found my heating pad. It took me 20 minutes to find something that should have been easy to locate. I really need to clean my closet! Despite the clutter, I kept looking because when I come inside from playing in the snow, my stump often needs to be warmed quickly. Wrapping it with a warm heating pad feels heavenly on extremely cold days and was worth the hunt.

While I was in the closet, I spied my box of hand warmers down from the top shelf. Incidentally I also dislodged 20 rolls of toilet paper, a fish tank filter and a set of hot hair rollers which had been precariously balanced next to the warmers. Another reminder that I really need to clean my closet!

The air activated little hand warmer pads have been an integral part of my winter arsenal since I discovered that they work inside my prosthetic. Each morning I toss one in the bottom of my socket before I put on my leg. Because the warmers are flat and don't require a lot of space, my prosthetic fit isn't compromised. The hand warmer heats my socket for up to 8 hours!

With my socks, heating pad, and hand warmers secure, I am ready for winter. Jack Frost can hit us with his hardest shot in the coming weeks, but my leg will stay nice and toasty. And if we do happen to have a blizzard this winter, I now know how I'll spend my time waiting out the storm-- cleaning my closets!

Shrinking Jeans

2012-01-05T04:56:00.000-05:00

After weeks of unseasonably warm temperatures, there is no doubt that winter is upon us. It's getting colder everyday. Yesterday I finally broke down and packed up my comfy capris and t-shirts, lugged my jeans and sweaters up from the basement, and resigned myself to winter.

I am seriously contemplating moving our bed downstairs. After all, there is something magical in the air that makes everything shrink. My jeans, which fit fine when I packed them away this past spring, are now uncomfortably snug. Obviously, they have shrunk!

Or, perhaps I have indulged in a few too many Christmas treats. While I would prefer to blame the clothes, in reality the culprit lies with my growing bum. I had not intended to make weight loss a New Year's resolution, but my unwearable magic shrinking jeans have added it to my list.

I have worked too hard to shed the weight I gained after my amputation. I also know that, unless I'm vigilant, the pounds can creep back on. I've purged my pantry of all of my baked goods by pawning them off on my neighbor. Mr. Bill was a little surprised when I showed up at his house with Robby's wagon packed with treats, but he didn't complain!

I've stocked my fridge with fresh veggies, yogurt and a big pot of brown rice. I'm going to start riding again (I took a brief hiatus during the holidays) and I am investigating adding a strength training component to my workout. I'm not going to go crazy with fitness because the last thing I need right now is a sports injury!

Per my original resolution this year, I am not going to beat myself up over my recent hiccup. I have vowed to release some of the pressure I place upon myself. I am giving myself credit for recognizing the issue before it has become a huge (no pun intended) problem. Time to start sweating!

Working at Home

2012-01-04T05:21:00.000-05:00

For the past five years, I have referred to myself as a stay-at-home Mom. Although it was a difficult adjustment, I had no qualms about stepping away from my teaching career to take care of Robby. It hasn't always been easy, but I have never regretted this decision.

During the last few months, my professional responsibilities have been growing. Between writing insurance appeals, managing my prosthetist's patient outreach, and moderating the ACA Facebook page, I am now wearing a lot of hats. Add the fact that I'm still a mom to an active and curious part-time Kindergartener, a blogger, and a wife who is still expected to maintain the home, managing my time with all of my "duties" has become increasingly difficult.

Scott sent me a barrage of text messages yesterday while he was at work. He seemed to become aggravated when I didn't immediately reply. When he finally called, he remarked that I didn't seem "chatty." No, I wasn't particularly chatty. I was busy! Just because I'm home should not imply that I am always available.

I thought that I would be able to get a lot accomplished with Robby being in school, but three hours fly by so quickly. After I pick him up I try to spend time with him, work on the household chores, make dinner, and finish my professional duties. Opportunities to sit and chat are virtually non-existent as I flutter around trying to take care of everything. From researching insurance policies to not burning a grilled cheese sandwich to vacuuming the floors, I am spending at least 16 hours a day "at work."

It occurred to me yesterday, after hanging up from a conference call I completed while folding the laundry, that I am no longer a "stay at home" mom. My mounting professional obligations are now monopolizing a significant block of my schedule. Instead I have decided that referring to my situation as "working from home" is more accurate.

I am optimistic that my changing my label to "working at home" will signal some household changes. I am seriously considering hiring a cleaning service to help with the housework. It is no longer a matter of not enjoying cleaning; I now don't have time to do it.

Right now I think I'm going through the growing pains that working moms have experienced for decades. Although my professional adventures have been extremely rewarding, I realize that I cannot keep going at this pace. Working at home while trying to be a stay at home mom is draining. I think it is time to relinquish some of my "stay at home mom" chores!

Back to the Routine

2012-01-03T05:53:00.000-05:00

There are two sad boys in my house this morning. Much to their chagrin, Christmas vacation is over and they both must return to school today. They both looked so sad and forlorn when they were laying out their clothes and going to bed last night. Out of respect, I tried to keep my smile and gleeful demeanor in check!

I never imagined that I would be counting down the days until Robby returned to school. While I love having him home with me, I have come to appreciate the benefits that school affords. He is happier when he is able to interact and play with his peers, and when he is happier, everything is a lot easier!

During the past few days, our home has morphed from Christmas Wonderland to raging battlefield. Christmas music has been replaced by foot stamping. A battalion of tiny green army men have been turned into projectile bombs at the hands of a pint sized General. I'm fairly certain that at least a dozen soldiers are now MIA in our Christmas tree. All of the toys which were neatly piled in the corner were hastily moved to free up the time out stop. Yes, Robby Rotten has taken up residence and has refused retreat.

Although he won't admit it, I know that Robby misses being at school. He was thriving with his new routine. He loves playing with his friends, and I think he has missed the structure of his classroom. A week at home has rendered him mischievous, irritable, and demanding. Nothing seemed to satisfy his desires, and Scott and I tired of running around trying to please a five year old!

I am anticipating a final showdown this morning as I pack him up for school. I fully expect him to pull out all the stops, including but not limited to tears when I kiss him goodbye in front of his classroom. I'm sure that I'll feel a pang of guilt when I leave the school. I also suspect that it will only last as long as it takes me to drive to Starbucks for my celebratory back to school latte.

New Year Fun

2012-01-02T04:51:00.001-05:00

New Year's Eve is a low key affair in our house. Scott traditionally holes himself in his "man cave" playing video games and Skyping with friends. I usually watch a movie, munch on assorted snacks, and go to bed shortly after putting Robby in for the night. Although this is our pattern many weekend nights, it somehow smacks as pathetic on New Year's Eve. Seemingly the rest of the world is partying and having fun, and my lack of extravagant plans makes me feel inadequate. I have come to dread New Year's Eve!

This year fate intervened with our humdrum plans. I won tickets to a Children's Museum in Baltimore. The museum was having a New Year's countdown at noon which not only seemed appropriate for kids but also accommodated my propensity for falling asleep before the ball drops at midnight. I was delighted that we had something fun to do, and even more thrilled that it was completely free!

Saturday morning we piled into the car and drove to Baltimore to redeem my prize. Robby was utterly mesmerized when we entered the museum. In the center of the lobby stood a three story, intricately designed climbing structure. The plethora of rope bridges, plank ladders, mesh tubes, and rock walls seemed to beckon his name. He gave me a kiss, posed for one picture and took off climbing!

Initially Scott and I stayed at the bottom of the structure with the other adults. I managed to keep Robby in my sights thanks to the zoom lens on my camera. After about ten minutes, I noticed that he wasn't moving. I volunteered Scott to go help him.

Unfortunately, Scott went in a different entrance and was separated from Robby by a mesh wall. As Scott tried to work his way through the obstacle course, I slung my large flowered purse over my shoulder and prepared to rescue my son. Although I was well under the weight restriction, I can assure you that the "urban tree house" was not designed for anybody over the age of 15. It was certainly not intended for a middle age amputee woman lacking any natural grace and agility.

Acting on instinct, I crawled into the entrance, determined to reach Robby. My first obstacle was the rope ladder. Rope ladders, it turns out, are not easy to navigate with a prosthetic. I had to deliberately place my foot on each rope loop before hoisting upward. I was slow, but I eventually made it to the next level. I was convinced that I would reach Robby when I turned the corner.

Crap! Apparently the intricacies of this structure could not be appreciated from the ground. I still had a tube separating me from my scared little guy. I hate heights! I was not happy about being suspended in a mesh tube tethered to the ceiling by chains two stories high. Each movement caused the tube to sway and I was not a happy Momom!

Squeezing through the mesh tube was not my finest moment. I tried scooting on my bum but quickly realized that I was too tall to sit up. I was forced to back out and enter on my stomach.

While commando crawling through the mesh tube, my prosthetic became caught in one of the holes. I stopped as soon as I felt the suction break but quickly realized that my options were limited. I couldn't back out of the tube because I had a string of kids behind me in the tube, already annoyed at my slow pace. I knew that proceeding forward would cause me to crawl out of my leg. With my suspension compromised, I had no choice but to take my leg off and push it through the tube ahead of me.

Between my leg and my purse, my hands were full, making it more difficult to maneuver through the swinging obstacle. I was relieved when I was finally able to throw my leg (partly out of relief and frustration) through the opening on the other side, freeing up my arms and signaling the end to the mesh purgatory. The teenager who witnessed my leg flying through the opening, unattached to a body, was not nearly as thrilled!

Finally I managed to reach my little boy. He had become stuck by a free swing ladder and was afraid to climb. I held the ladder for him, allowing him to reach the "promised land"-- the slide at the top of the structure.

After we slid to safety, Scott and I took a moment to regroup. While I was rescuing Robby, Scott was looking at the map that we received when we entered the museum. Ignoring the "Read this first" directive clearly written, in bold, at the top of the map was not our wisest decision. The schematic showed the three entrances, each color coded and clearly marked by age requirements. Robby had entered the 10 and above structure. D'oh!

We spent the rest of the afternoon playing on the 5-7 year old climber. Robby had a blast, and to my delight the openings were larger to accommodate parents. While I still had to maneuver the rope obstacles, I had more room to move and didn't become stuck. Scott and I took turns climbing with Robby. He never seemed to tire! We did.

After nearly four hours of climbing fun, we convinced Robby that it was time to go home. We wanted to make it home before dark and before the drunks took to the road. Although I still went to bed before the revelries began at midnight, I didn't feel my normal pangs of guilt. I think I was simply too exhausted to care!

<-- Robby trapped. Note that he is crouched down, demonstrating the size of the space.

The more spacious, and age appropriate tube! ------>

My New Year Manifesto

2012-01-01T18:52:00.000-05:00

My Year In Review

2011-12-30T05:41:00.001-05:00

So much has transpired during the past year. Looking back, I never envisioned the way that my professional life is unfolding. I am entering 2012 excited and energized about the challenges and possibilities that lie ahead.

I began the year by writing a blog for my prosthetist. I am now managing his website, his blog, and his various social media outlets. I am also writing his rebuttals for insurance appeals and denials. I never thought that writing technical papers could be so satisfying. However, knowing that my words will help an amputee secure the device that they desperately need is amazing. I am honored to be part of the process.

During the past twelve months I have continued to work as a Spokesperson for Ossur. I traveled to Florida (twice), Las Vegas, San Antonio, Philadelphia, and South Carolina. Robby and Scott were able to travel with me on a few of these trips, allowing us to create family memories that will last a lifetime. To my surprise, a photo featuring both me and Robby was chosen for the 2012 Prosthetic catalog. My Ossur year ended with the unveiling of the new corporate video (I'm featured at minute two).

In November I was was presented with an unexpected and unique opportunity to help amputees on a nationwide scale. I am now working for the Amputee Coalition of America managing their Facebook page. When I assumed responsibility for the page it was relatively stagnant. Within two weeks the page traffic has increased an astounding 490%! Amputees of all experience levels and backgrounds are now posting questions and are actively helping each other on this page. I couldn't be more delighted to be a part of this important outreach!

In reality, my greatest accomplishment of 2011 was not professional. In September Robby (and I) successfully transitioned to his attending Kindergarten. I survived and, although there were tears shed, I did not have to be physically pulled away from his classroom on the first day of school!

With Robby being in school a few hours a day I had anticipated an increase in "me" time. Those hopes evaporated with each new professional venture. Some days there simply aren't enough hours to get everything done. I often find myself up late at night and early in the morning, thankful for the quiet to work. It's a good thing that I love what I'm doing!

So much has changed during the past year. It is hard to believe that I have been presented with these amazing opportunities. I can't wait to see what unfolds in 2012.

Sing A Long Fun!

2011-12-29T04:16:00.000-05:00

During the past few months, Robby and I have been making a bee line to the Karaoke machine demonstrated at Costco whenever we have been in the store. Feeling no inhibition, we would serenade our fellow shoppers with rousing renditions of everything from the ABC song and Jingle Bells. We could typically get through three songs before Scott would put an end to our floor show.

To our delight, Scott surprised both Robby and me with the Karaoke machine for Christmas. I was completely unaware that he was planning on buying the gadget. I love singing although I am acutely aware that I have no talent, and I'll never forget being directed to "sing silently" in my mandatory 5th grade chorus. Unfortunately enthusiasm does not trump talent.

Just like me, Robby loves to belt out a tune at the top of his lungs. Unfortunately, he has inherited my singing abilities. Amplified through the two microphones on the karaoke machine, our duets are compelling--just not in a good way.

Both cats have learned the soft clicking sound that signals the karaoke machine has been turned on. The seemingly benign click is enough for them to immediately take off running, seeking refuge from the noise in the basement under a pile of blankets. It seems that Robby and I manage to hit tones that are painful for animals!

While I love having the karaoke machine in the house, I have noticed one drawback (other than the pain it inflicts on our cats). Now whenever Robby wants or needs something, he simply grabs a microphone. "Attention, Momom. This is Robby. I need more milk." Apparently my Christmas present is also an effective intercom system. I am not sure who is going to be more annoyed by the karaoke machine--our pets or me! This conundrum to be solved in the near future.

Legal Hell

2011-12-28T04:29:00.001-05:00

Hate is a strong word. I was raised to use it sparingly because of the power of emotion it implies. I can say, without a doubt, that I hate both the workman's compensation system as well as my insurance adjustor. My medical care and my family's future is being held hostage by their quagmire of paper and penny-pinching protocols. My interests, and especially my health, are secondary to the primary focus of delaying treatment at all costs in order to avoid payment.

For the past few weeks I have been living the workman's compensation roller coaster. My favorite ride attendant Elsie (my adjustor) is at the helm, seemingly in charge of each stomach-jumping turn and heart-racing loop. I feel like screaming, "Stop the ride... I want to get off!"

Yesterday I received a letter from the workman's compensation commission informing me that a hearing date will be "forthcoming." According to the dictionary, forthcoming is an adjective meaning "about to happen in the near future." In the legal realm, I've discovered it means "anytime between now and whenever the hell we feel like it." While the powers that be search their calendars for a convenient date to decide my care, I wait. I have no choice!

It will be weeks before I have a hearing date which will be set for months in the future. In the meantime, I will be playing the amputee version of infection roulette: walking around with a compromised, torn and hole riddled liner hoping that my skin that isn't protected doesn't get nicked or cut. I will continue to be in pain, and I won't be able to schedule a date for surgery. My life will continue to be put on hold. The insurance company will delay paying their bills which is apparently the ultimate goal. They are, in essence, winning.

I am frustrated to the point of tears. In an almost laughable attempt for understanding, I phoned my attorney. I don't know why I expected that I would speak with him; he still has not returned my previous four calls! Perhaps leaving message with a quivering voice and the audible snorts as I tried to hold back the tears will elicit sympathy and a return call. I'm not holding my breath!

Many times I make light of living with limb loss because I've always been an optimistic person. Being negative is only going to make me feel worse and isn't going to change my amputee status. The truth is, being an amputee isn't easy. Everyday I wake up not knowing if my prosthetic will feel comfortable. I have to plan my activities in advance so that I can have the proper leg with me. Every evening I have to inspect my limb for infection. There are days when my big toe hurts so badly I feel like I want to chop it, and then I get angry because it isn't there!

In spite of all of these obstacles, I remain more handicapped by the workman's compensation system and its minions of fools. I have mastered walking with a prosthetic. I don't think I'll ever learn to navigate the contrived, nonsensical, regulatory waters that are supposed to "protect" me.

Perhaps those who make their living spreading the red tape in the workman's compensation system should be held to their own regulatory standards when they receive their medical care. Maybe then everybody involved would realize that they are dealing with lives, not just file number and dollar signs. I feel emotionally depleted. In a few days I know that I'll regroup and rise to fight the battle. Until then, I may just hide from the world.

Crossing Annoyance

2011-12-27T04:31:00.000-05:00

I have been dealing with a particular minor frustration for many years. I typically brush it out of my mind, try to adapt and not give it much thought. I realize that many will think that this complaint is petty and, for the most part, I tend to agree. However, for some reason recently it has been irking me!

Since the time I began sitting in chairs, I have crossed my legs because I don't feel comfortable with both feet flat on the ground. After I become an amputee, my need to cross my legs when sitting increased. I have found that with both feet flat on the ground, I don't have as much control within my socket causing uncomfortable pressure spots within my prosthetic. With my legs crossed, I can shift the weight distribution alleviating any discomfort with relative ease.

Most of the time crossing my legs is not a big issue, and I don't give it a second thought. Sometimes though, I must perform feats of flexibility in order to become comfortable. Sitting on a plane is always cumbersome as I often knock the tray table down or accidentally kick my fellow passengers. I try to be discrete, but I almost always garner attention.

My frustrations came to a head a few weeks ago while I was at a lunch meeting. I found it nearly impossible to get comfortable in my chair! Although I tried my best to maintain a quasi-professional air, I'm sure that I must have appeared squirmy as I struggled to get my legs crossed.

Because of the size of the table and the darn pole in the center, I wasn't able to find a comfortable position. I tried to concentrate on our conversation, but my legs kept moving to diminish pressures within my socket. I ended up kicking the table. Any hope of remaining discrete evaporated with the water spilling over everything!

I've been told that yoga might help with my leg crossing obstacle, so perhaps I'll sign up for a class in the New Year. Even if I don't become adept crossing my legs, it is sure to be good fodder for a few blogs!

My Break

2011-12-26T05:10:00.001-05:00

I think I am suffering from a carbohydrate hang-over. Between the cinnamon rolls (homemade) in the morning, the seemingly endless buffet at my Mom's for dinner and the gorging on Christmas cookies at night, I feel like I might explode. It's a good thing that the New Year is right around the corner. I'll worry about the repercussions of my festive gluttony with my resolution. In the meantime, I am in full celebratory mode!

Robby proclaimed that he had the "bestest Christmas of my whole life, except it was a little sad because there was no snow." I have to admit that snow would have been nice, especially since he received a super cool new ski sled. I guess that's one toy he'll have to wait to take for a test drive.

I have to admit, Santa did a great job picking toys for him this year. Robby was excited and eager to play with everything he unwrapped. My living room resembles a toy store after a raid, but the smiles on Robby's face are worth the mess.

Unfortunately being on my leg all day took its toll. I'm sore, walking with a pronounced limb and utterly exhausted. It is hard for me to do, but I'm giving myself a gift this year. I'm allowing myself the luxury of a vacation. Cleaning up the aftermath of Christmas can wait, and we can munch on leftovers and pizza for a few days. I'm going to sit in my rocker and watch my little guy play with his new treasures for awhile. I deserve the break.

Christmas FUN!

2011-12-25T09:40:00.008-05:00

Merry Christmas!

For the first time in his young life, Robby was speechless this morning. He stopped in his tracks and simply stared at the presents piled under the Christmas tree. Finally, after about 45 seconds, he looked at me and whispered, "Momom, I guess I was too good this year. Look at all these presents. And how in the world did Santa get that (pointing to his new ski sled) down the chimney. Holy crap-- let's start unwrapping!"

Weeks of meticulous planning and over two hours of wrapping were undone in 15 minutes. He had paper strewn in every corner of our living room. Pausing only for the occasional picture, he had unwrapped his loot in record time!

Among his new treasures include a ski sled, a Mario racing car and the coveted archery set. Robby couldn't wait to shoot his first arrow. He took aim, held his breath and let his arrow fly. It shot Scott squarely in the bum.

I'm sitting in my comfy rocking chair, watching Robby and Scott play with the Army men that Santa left under the tree. Instead of carols and a crackling fire I am hearing a barrage of "boom boom boom" and "pow pow pow." I did have to chuckle when Robby screamed, "I'm going to kill you real good on Christmas!" Apparently playing with army men is a game that only men understand, because I simply don't fathom the appeal!

Have a wonderful Christmas. I'll post more on Monday. I need to go save the cat from a young archer in training!

Christmas Fun

2011-12-23T04:49:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was exactly what I needed to reignite my Christmas spirit! Robby's classmates were ecstatic about their party. All of the kids were decked out in their best Christmas attire, from glittery dresses to reindeer and Santa shirts.

I, of course, would have taken the prize for most festively dressed had one been available. I wore my Santa Claus shirt, Jingle bell skirt and blinking reindeer antlers. Looking in the mirror I felt somehow under dressed for the festive occasion. I quickly wrapped battery operated multi-colored LED lights around my socket for that "extra special" touch. I turned more than a few heads when I had to run into the grocery store to pick up a few last minute party supplies!

Robby was delighted with my spirited attire. I am so glad that he isn't yet at the stage where he is embarrassed by me. I know that one of these days he will ask me to tone it down. I'll comply, but I'll be sad.

For now, Robby thinks of me as fun loving and (dare I say) cool. I'm glad that he hasn't yet banned me from his classroom because I love watching Robby play with his classmates. He has integrated into the school routine so naturally. All of my sleepless nights worrying about his adjusting were for naught. He is flourishing!

It turns out he is also quite the girl magnet. He spends much of his time in the company of three little girls who vie to sit by him during activities and lunch. Each girl refers to Robby as her "boyfriend." He simply calls them "friend" because, although he won't admit it, I'm fairly confident that he hasn't learned their names. (He is really bad about learning the names of his classmates!)

I was taken aback when one particularly forward little girl asked Robby to play on the playground with her. Robby politely declined, opting to play basketball with his little friend Nick. Undeterred, this little gal coyly smiled and promised "to do her super model walk" if Robby played with her. Both he and Nick quickly immediately abandoned their basketballs and obediently followed.

Robby's school party was a rousing success. The kids had a great time and left with a backpack full of glittery crafts and a tummy full of treats. All of his classmates insisted on hugging me when we left, each thanking me for the fun party. Robby was absolutely beaming!

The party has reinvigorated my Christmas spirit. Robby and I spent the afternoon baking cookies and making marshmallows. We sang Christmas songs and reenacted Rudolph in the kitchen.

Although my leg still hurts, I haven't slept in days because of phantom pain, and I am still waiting for both my biopsy results and a call back from my attorney, yesterday none of that mattered. I simply had a great day with my little guy!

I hope that you have a wonderful Christmas. Rest assured, I will post pictures and videos on Christmas morning, after Robby unwraps Santa's loot. Gauging from his excitement, I predict he'll be up obscenely early on Christmas morning!
Merry Christmas!

My Bah Humbug Biopsy Mood

2011-12-22T04:54:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I took a "Bah Humbug" day to a new level. I woke up and was immediately frustrated by the pine needles scattering my floor. I find it impossible to keep the cat from climbing 10 feet in the air to perch on our trees branches. I stepped outside and became annoyed because the temperature was warm and it was raining; it felt as if the weather was conspiring to keep me from feeling festive!

After dropping Robby off at school I went to the hospital for my scheduled biopsy. I'm sure that the procedure was the true impetus behind my foul, grinch-like demeanor. I am worried about the results and, to be honest, I resent the fact that I had to endure more needles and pain.

I look at many of my friends and I have to admit that I am jealous. They have all their limbs. They don't have to contend with socket issues that cause pain and interfere with sleep. They aren't facing a re-amputation in the next few months. They don't have to wait by the phone for biopsy results. I have to deal with all of these issues. Sometimes, it takes all my strength not to scream, "This isn't fair!" at the top of my lungs. Yesterday was one of those days.

To add insult to an already bad day, I am still waiting to hear from my attorney. I've left four messages for him and have yet to receive a return call. So much of my life right now is tied up with this man who doesn't care about me beyond my name and file number.

I can't make any decisions until I hear back from him. I've been living in limbo for the past few months, jumping each time I hear the phone or check my mail. I have a family and responsibilities, and I need a timeline so that I can begin to plan and prepare. I don't think my request is unrealistic!

I would rage at my attorney, but I'm simply too exhausted to muster that much emotion. I haven't slept more than a few hours a night in over a week. My leg has been hurting and the phantom pain has been borderline unbearable at night. I've been running on a steady stream of Gingerbread coffee and Advil.

Typically, I try to avoid "why me" sentiments. I firmly believe that everybody has something that is "wrong" with them. Mine just happens to be more visible. Wallowing is never productive, but on occasion it can be cathartic. I have learned to allow myself to visit those dark emotions. It's unnatural to be optimistic and happy all the time. Yesterday I granted myself permission to throw a good, old-fashioned, woe-is-me pity party.

My wallowing ended this morning. Today is Robby's Kindergarten Holiday party! He and his classmates have been looking forward and planning this event for weeks. I'm ready to throw down my room mom gauntlet again, decked out in my Christmas sweater, jingle bell necklace and reindeer antler headband. Nothing like the festivities of Kindergarteners combined with a friendly room mom rivalry to lift my spirits!

New Leg Woes

2011-12-21T05:17:00.000-05:00

It amazes me how quickly Robby bounces back from an infection. He was pitiful on Monday. Today, he is back to school. Some TLC, Christmas cartoons, and antibiotics have worked their collective healing magic!

With a mounting holiday "to do" list, Robby's return to school couldn't have come soon enough. I haven't been able to get much done because of his insistence that I stay with him. Apparently he doesn't like to be alone when he is sick.

In reality, I didn't mind the respite. I received a new socket last week, and I have been having a difficult time adjusting. It is snugger than I prefer and, although I know I will eventually adjust, I have been wretched wearing it!

My liner has to be thoroughly saturated in hand sanitizer in order for me to slip into the socket. If it is not thoroughly lubricated, my stump doesn't slide completely down into my leg, leaving me unbalanced and compromising the suspension. In addition to the inconvenience of requiring lubricant, I am downright uncomfortable in my new leg.

My limb feels as if it is being squeezed from all sides within the socket. I am constantly sitting down so that I can press the valve to release the pressure. I feel an instant sensation of relief as the suction breaks and the compression is broken. And then I have to stand and walk, and the cycle repeats.

I hate being constantly reminded that I'm an amputee. With the exception of the moments where I break the seal, I am miserable. I now find myself planning my activities around my socket, identifying locations where I can break to release the valve before proceeding with any plans.

A squished limb during the day always equals an angry stump at night. My leg has been doing the jitterbug nearly non-stop. It feels as if it is being stung by swarms of annoyed bees. Massage, which typically helps, has been virtually useless in thwarting the stinging.

I've been through this before, and I know within a few days my limb will adjust and I'll be back to normal. I can't wait until I can walk through my house casually, without rushing to sit down and release the pressure. Hopefully my leg will adjust sooner rather than later because, if it doesn't get better soon, I might just give up and start wearing my running leg full time.

Sick Little Elf

2011-12-20T04:51:00.000-05:00

All of my plans for yesterday evaporated when I first looked at Robby in the morning. He was sweaty, pale, and coughing. A fever of 103 confirmed my suspicions: he was sick.

So, instead of going to Walter Reed to visit wounded heroes, I packed him up and went to the pediatrician. It wasn't nearly as rewarding a trip as our cheer-spreading mission, but perhaps just as beneficial. He was diagnosed with both strep throat and an ear infection (again).

Prescription in hand, I drove directly from the pediatrician to the pharmacy. The pharmacist, probably out of habit, asked how he was doing. It would have been better had she remained quiet. Robby tends towards grumpy when he is sick. My typically sweet little boy scowled and responded, "Do I look like I am okay? Can't you see that I'm sick? I wouldn't need cherry medicine if I wasn't sick!"

Sitting quietly and waiting for the prescription to be filled, I tried to talk with Robby about his response. I let him know that he was not being nice, and that the pharmacist was just trying to be polite. He broke down and began to sob. Apparently he is emotional as well as grumpy when he is sick.

By the time we arrived home Robby was exhausted. I carried him into the house (all 55 pounds of him) and laid him down on the couch. He remained there for most of the day, stirring to request a new cartoon, a drink, or to inquire about when his daddy would be home. When he is sick, he only wants his Daddy! He didn't want me to cuddle with him, but he complained whenever I left the living room. I put down my "to do" list and resigned myself to an afternoon of Scooby-Doo cartoons in the living room.

I am hoping that my little guy starts to feel better today. I hate seeing him sick, and I need his help. After all, we have a lot to do. Santa comes in just a few days!

Valid Excuse...

2011-12-19T05:14:00.000-05:00

To his delight, Robby will not be going to school today. Although we try to avoid his being absent, I think that we have a valid excuse: he has been invited to a party at the Walter Reed rehab facility!

There was no doubt that we were going to accept when the invitation was offered. Yes, school is important; however, this is a life opportunity that cannot be learned in a classroom. His teachers were understanding about the absence, and his classmates have drawn pictures and cards for Robby to distribute.

During the past few days Scott and I have been prepping Robby for this experience. We've tried to convey that although they are hurt and look different, he shouldn't be afraid because they are still people who deserve respect and kindness. Still, I worry that he is going to see physical scars and wounds that may be frightening in the eyes of a five year old. Can a child ever be prepared to witness such physical and emotional pain?

We told Robby that he was invited because he is a happy boy who is good at cheering people up. I think he is up for the task! He has been practicing his holiday songs and his Nutcracker inspired cowboy dance all weekend. Seeing a little boy in cowboy boots enthusiastically perform a plié immediately followed by a modified two-step shuffle is sure to crack more than a few smiles.

Per Robby's request, we spent much of the weekend baking cookies for him to give out to his "new hospital friends." He genuinely seems excited for the visit, and I think he is prepared. Or, at least he is as prepared as possible. Wish us luck!

Robby's First Performance

2011-12-18T18:23:00.001-05:00

My little star!

How to Help?

2011-12-16T04:11:00.000-05:00

I doubt many know that my first dealing with health issues occurred during adolescence. When I was 14 I became ill with what we thought to be the flu. We realized that the diagnosis was incorrect when I didn't quickly recover. I remained sick for the next three years.

My attendance at school was sporadic at best. I was commonly absence for months at a time as the doctors tried to find a diagnosis. Finally, after years of mental and physical pain, we discovered the culprit: I had contracted Lyme disease. Unfortunately the disease went undiagnosed which allowed it to spread neurologically. Two bouts of IV antibiotics, and several months later, I finally regained my strength to return to school full time my senior year.

The teen years are a difficult time to be struggling with illness. I was isolated from my peers and essentially "forgotten" by my circle of friends. I learned a lot through this experience, perhaps most valuable was the importance of reaching out to others when they are struggling. Being sick is miserable, but being sick and forgotten is a pain that cannot be described.

Perhaps understanding the importance of supportive friends cannot be appreciated unless you have felt the isolation that often accompanies an illness or life changing event. I suspect that avoidance of uncomfortable situations is human nature because it seems to be the instinct of so many. When somebody is diagnosed with cancer, becomes ill, or loses a limb, friends and family often fade into the background because they don't know what to say or how to react to the situation.

I am often contacted by friends and family members of a new amputee. They want to know how to help, but they also want to know what they shouldn't do. They don't want to say or do the wrong thing to make the situation worse. Staying away and avoiding their loved one is, by far, worse than saying or doing something "wrong."

Fear of offending the friend should never keep somebody from reaching out. A new amputee knows that they no longer have their limb. It isn't a topic that should be avoided out of a fear of causing pain. I have yet to meet a new amputee who doesn't have the need to talk about the loss! Sometimes having those "this really sucks" feelings validated by a caring friend helps speed the healing process.

Whatever the obstacle being faced by a friend, it is never wrong to reach out and offer support. Please don't assume that others are offering a caring ear and words of encouragement. I know from experience that there can never be too much love and support during difficult times!

Christmas Elf

2011-12-15T04:58:00.000-05:00

It is nearly impossible to grasp that we have only nine days until Christmas. Didn't we just go Trick-or-Treating a few days ago? Time has flown by during the past two months!

Our house isn't as decorated as I had envisioned back in September, but I am pleased with both my efforts and the results. We have an enormous tree covered in an odd assortment of lights and glittery decorations hanging from the ceiling and chandeliers. My favorite holiday trinkets are strategically placed through the house. I didn't do as much decorating as I have in years past, but considering everything that is going on right now, I am content.

We are overflowing with Christmas excitement in spite of the mediocre embellishments. Right now our house is on Santa patrol. Robby has me check his status on the "Naughty or Nice" list several times a day. (Thanks Mary for telling me about www.claus.com.) Robby can't wait until Santa finally comes!

I know that his years of fully believing in Santa Claus are limited. In another year or two Robby will either figure out the identity of Santa or doubts will be created by his peers. I have no doubt that I'll be as devastated as he when he stops believing!

In the meantime, I've vowed to make the most of his believing in Santa, and I plan to make this Christmas as magical as possible! Every few days we hear the sound of jingle bells. Typically, Robby and I are in the living room while his Daddy is (conveniently) in another room. As soon as we hear those bells, we take off running to Robby's bedroom. As much as we try to run fast, the elf always gets away before we can see him!

The elf has been leaving a note and a small gift. Yesterday he left Rob a Nutcracker ornament on his pillow. I wonder how Santa knew that Robby is taken with nutcrackers this Christmas? As Robby says, Santa seems to know everything!

I love seeing the excitement radiate from Robby when he discovers his little surprises. The gifts, although modest in size and price, have been making an impact that is priceless. Seeing his excitement is the best Christmas present of all!

Spilled Milk

2011-12-14T04:49:00.000-05:00

I shudder to admit that I was counting down the minutes on Tuesday before I took Robby to school. I wasn't feeling well and have been struggling with flu-like symptoms since Monday night. He was bouncing off the walls, begging to decorate more cookies and paint ornaments. I tried using logic, explaining that I didn't feel well and that I didn't want his good clothes to get dirty before school. Neither explanation was accepted as he pouted and informed me that he "heard a present falling off of Santa's sleigh and it had Momom written on it!"

After I dropped him off, I set the timer on my cell phone and went straight to bed. I slept for the next two hours. I can't say that I woke up feeling refreshed, but I was certainly feeling more functional. I had some gingerbread tea, swallowed some more Tylenol, and then took off to pick up my little guy from school.

When I arrived in Robby's classroom all of his little friends were furiously writing letters to Santa Claus. Robby was sitting by himself at the lunch table quietly eating. He kept his head down and barely smiled when I approached him. My heart sank as I instantly knew that something was wrong.

In spite of my insistence that he tell me what was wrong, he refused to talk to me on the way home. Instead, he told me that he wanted to have a talk- man to man- with Mr. Bill first. I stopped pestering for answers and we quietly drove to Mr. Bill's house.

Robby sat on the Lazy Boy recliner next to his confidant and began to sob. He proceeded to tell Mr. Bill that he had spilled his milk at lunch time. He made a mess all over his rice and the floor. He had made his teacher upset.

Mr. Bill listened to the story and then offered Robby some cheese. He explained that accidents happen and that nobody was mad at him. "Well Mr. Bill, Miss Dominique (his teacher) said that I can't have any more milk. I guess I'm going to have to be a water man from here on out because I'm cut off milky."

I have to admit that I was impressed with Mr. Bill's ability to refrain from laughing at this innocent, yet dramatic, comment. Instead he patiently explained that he would be allowed to drink milk and that his teacher meant that he couldn't have another cup of milk during lunch. Robby's mood instantly elevated when he learned that he wasn't going to be banned from milk for life!

Robby was much happier after debriefing with Mr. Bill. We came home and he enjoyed a tall mug of ice cold milk with his Santa cookies. I curled up on the sofa and he watched Tom and Jerry cartoons until Scott came home from work. I wish that he would have talked to me directly about his school worries, but I'm so thankful that he has a kind confidant whom he trusts. If only my flu bug could be cured as quickly!

Infection Fears

2011-12-13T04:41:00.000-05:00

If you ask an amputee about their biggest physical fear, most likely they will state losing the sound limb or having to amputate the next highest joint on their prosthetic side. Infection, falls, and trauma are variables that can strike an amputee without warning, sidelining activities and necessitating medical intervention. During the past week I have heard from four amputee friends who have been hospitalized because of infections.

All amputees who rely upon a prosthetic are susceptible to sores and infection on the residual limb. Sensation has been compromised making it difficult to feel small sores or pinch cuts. This is only exacerbated for the diabetic amputee!

Before I go to bed, I conduct my nightly limb check. I have a small mirror by the bed that I use to examine every inch of my stump. Doing this allows me to identify any potential sores, ingrown hairs or small cuts that may be a catalyst for infection. Some nights I wish I could just slip into bed without another thought, but I realize that the health of my limb necessitates the preventative checks.

In addition to thoroughly examining my leg, liner care is imperative to maintaining a healthy limb. My liner is against my skin for upwards of 18 hours a day. This dark, moist environment can be a breeding ground for bacteria and infection. I wash my liner every night, using my regular face soap. Once a week I will rinse it with a vinegar water solution. Considering the amount of dirt and sweat that accumulates on the liner, it is surprisingly easy to clean!

I often encounter one of my biggest amputee annoyances in the middle of the night. I hate getting up to use the bathroom or to chase away monsters and being forced to stop to put on my liner and leg. When I'm tired and want to return to bed quickly, I resent the few extra moments that it takes me to get up and walk.

I admit that, on rare occasions, I have slept with my liner. Typically this happened when Robby was sick, and I knew that I would have to put the vomit bowl under his little mouth at a moment's notice. Except for these rare circumstances, I never wear my prosthetic or liner when I sleep. The skin on my limb needs a chance to "breathe" after being confined and covered all day. Although I hate putting on my leg in the middle of the night, I won't compromise my residual limb health by sleeping in my liner.

Everyday I am reminded of the possibility of infection when I examine my stump for sores and cuts. Some nights I am so tired I would prefer to simply take my leg off and fall into bed. Instead I force myself to go through my routine. The health of my limb and my ability to walk are both worth this extra time!

TIMBER!

2011-12-12T04:05:00.000-05:00

Cutting down a Christmas tree has been a tradition in my family since I was young. I have fond memories of us piling into the car and driving to the Christmas tree farm. We used to sing songs on the hayride and took turns with the saw until the tree was felled. I love passing these happy childhood traditions onto Robby.

On Saturday Robby, Scott, and I met up with my sister and her three children in Pennsylvania to cut down our Christmas tree. We were delighted that my dad, who now lives in Texas, was in town on business and was able to join us. The grandkids were bouncing off the walls with energy and excitement as they vied for their Candy Papaw's attention.

As it turns out, Robby and his cousins were more interested in running around the farm and entertaining their grandfather than they were in choosing a tree. Scott and I were promptly abandoned on our quest of finding the ideal Christmas tree. The two of us scoured the fields in search of evergreen perfection.

Between the hilly terrain, the divots and tree stumps, and the mud, walking around the farm was not an easy task for me. To make it more laborious, I was forced to use my exercise leg because a new socket is being constructed for my Proprio leg. I relied upon Scott for most of the tree scouting since I was forced to concentrate on walking in order to avoid falling. As it turns out, Scott has excellent taste in Christmas trees!

He spotted a tree on the opposite side of the farm and was insistent that we check it out. To be honest I would have been satisfied simply to cut something closer to our location, but I decided to humor him on his quest. Despite slipping in the mud, it was worth the effort. He had managed to find the perfect tree.

The tree was bigger than its counterparts. It looked majestic, not massive. We estimated that it stood 7 feet tall. Apparently size can be skewed in a field. It wasn't until we labored to carry the heavy coniferous prize into our home that we realized the sheer size of this tree.

Our tree is nearly 11 feet tall, and is about 7 feet in girth. Standing tall in our living room, the ambiance of the space has been morphed from "open and airy" to "cozy and congested." It didn't look this big when we cut it down!

After the tree was secured in the stand, Robby and I started to hang the lights. Our four strands, which used to be ample for our previous trees, were woefully inadequate. We headed out to buy more lights and additional (shatterproof) ornaments. Unfortunately the stores were nearly sold out of lights so our choices were limited. It's a good thing I'm not a stickler for having things match!

The top third of our tree is adorn with traditional twinkling multi-colored lights. The center is covered with obnoxiously bright LED multi-colored lights. The bottom of our tree is wrapped with LED neon pink and purple lights, reminiscent of an Easter egg. Saying it looks odd is being kind.

The lights don't match and none of the branches above 4 feet have ornaments because Robby decorated it himself. I have branches brushing against my back and neck when I sit at the dining room table and we can't use the sliding glass doors because it is so big. Despite all of this, I smile every time I see the tree. Somehow, this massive and eclectically decorated Christmas tree is the perfect fit in our house.

Vroom Vroom

2011-12-09T04:44:00.000-05:00

I am happy to report that I survived my go-cart experience unscathed. Not only did I not meet a fiery demise, but I also stepped out of my little car without any broken bones! Considering the scenarios that I was conjuring during my drive to the track, I was delighted.

Go-carting is not as easy as one might believe. It's not simply a matter of sitting in a car and driving fast. For starters, I had to figure out how to get into the car.

The car was small and extremely low to the ground. My fellow racers seemed to have no problem hopping behind the wheel. I, however, was anything but graceful as I clumsily maneuvered around the assorted bar, pedals and fuel tank to assume my seat. Surveying the car from the driver's seat, I immediately realized that I was going to have a disadvantage.

The brake and gas pedals were on opposite sides of the car. I typically drive with only my right foot. In this fast little car, I was going to have to use my prosthetic to brake. Experimenting before the race, I discovered that I couldn't push my prosthetic against the brake if my leg was positioned "correctly" on the pedal. Apparently the designers assumed that the drivers would have active ankle control. I was going to have to improvise.

I managed to position my foot against the bar adjacent to the brake pedal. If I pushed hard, the brake engaged. Now all I had to do was just make sure that my leg didn't slip off the narrow bar when I was driving! I opted to maintain mild pressure through my socket so that I wouldn't lose contact with my brake bar. It turns out that by doing this, I was keeping the brake engaged throughout the race. Perhaps this was the reason I kept getting lapped.

I had a good time go-carting, but I don't think I'll be chomping at the bit to do it again. I don't like feeling out of control and unsafe. My competitive nature did come out though and I was thrilled that I didn't finish last. I finished next to last, only 5 laps behind the leader. Imagine how fast I might have gone had I not had the brake engaged the entire race!

Go-Cart Racing

2011-12-08T04:18:00.000-05:00

Today I am doing something that I have never imagined I would be doing. To be honest I've never had a great desire to engage in this activity, and the prospect has me nervous. I'm going to race go-carts.

I can assure you that racing go-carts was not my brainchild. I was invited to attend a Christmas party which is being held at an indoor track, and apparently my agreeing to race was implied when I sent the RSVP.

Scott is admittedly jealous that I'm going to be behind the wheel as he loves all things race related. If it has wheels and goes fast, he'll watch it on TV. A few years ago I surprised him with a racing experience. He was able to get behind the wheel of a little Indy car and zoom around the track for a few hours. He says that it was one of the most exhilarating days of his life, speeding around corners and passing other participants.

During a break, Scott's instructor took my Mom and me around in a souped-up Volvo. He whizzed us around the track, taking corners at what felt like break neck speed. My Mom walked out of the car smiling. I slumped out crying, dizzy, and nauseous. While I like adventures, I am most definitely not a thrill seeker!

Since I've never been to a go-cart track, I decided to alleviate my anxiety by doing some research. I figured if I knew more about what to expect, I would feel better. After all, I don't like feeling unprepared. I started by searching YouTube for go-cart videos. Most of the videos end with a multi-cart pile up and a lot of smoke. I decided to abandon my research and adopt the "hope and a prayer" approach.

I really don't want to wreck my go-cart, but I also don't want to putz around the track at an embarrassingly slow and cautious pace. I am hoping to achieve a fun, yet safe, middle ground. Although I want to be cool- if push comes to shove, I will hit the brake before the wall! Wish me luck when the flag drops...

The Waiting Game

2011-12-07T04:44:00.000-05:00

Well, it's now Wednesday, and I have no more answers than I did on Friday. I have spent the last two days playing the most aggravating form of phone tag---where I am the only one making the calls! Not only is it next to impossible to speak with an actual person, it is even more of a monumental feat to receive a return call.

I have spent the past two days staying close to home, dutifully carrying the phone so that I wouldn't miss a call. I have taken my phone with me everywhere, including the garage and the bathroom so I would not miss my two important calls: t he first from my physician and the second from my attorney. My heart jumps every time the phone rings and then sinks when I look on the caller ID. In spite of leaving several messages, neither "professional" has called me back.

Finally, after no fewer than seven attempts, I was able to speak with an actual human at my doctor's office. My test is scheduled for Friday morning. Fantastic (sarcasm intended)-- I get to wait through another weekend for answers! I am still waiting to hear back from my attorney. At this point I expect he will return my call sometime between now and when hell freezes over.

The past week has been difficult. I've tried to concentrate on all things festive and jolly. Inside I've been wanting to take refuge and hide from the world. I was hoping that I would have more information by now. I do have a date for the test, which I suppose is progress towards getting resolution. In the meantime, I guess I will continue to decorate, play with Robby, and bake cookies.

Coats and Comforters

2011-12-06T04:58:00.000-05:00

I hate it when I can't find things in my house! This past weekend Robby's winter coat was AWOL. I asked him where it was to which he simply replied, "Well, I had it before, but now I don't know where it is." Needless to say he was not terribly helpful.

I cleaned out the car, the laundry room, and scoured every closet searching for the garment. Through my search I located 5 gloves, two scarves, Scott's missing summer sandals, a half a dozen screw drivers, and unfortunately one old and soiled baby diaper. Despite hours of focused and mildly obsessive searching, I never found the coat.

Trying to put the missing coat behind me, I changed my focus to concentrate on Christmas decorating. I decided to start in our bedroom by putting on our Christmas flannel sheets and matching Snowman comforter. It didn't take me long to located the sheets-- they were on the top of the pile that fell on my head when I opened the linen closet door. My angst began to rise when I couldn't find the comforter.

I proceeded to spend the next hour revisiting all of the same closets that were searched earlier for the coat. Frustrated and bordering on fuming, I sat on the sofa downstairs to develop a new search plan. Where could I have put the comforter? Surely I was the one who had put it away because I remember washing it. I tipped my head back to rub my temple out of frustration.

Voila! I spotted my Christmas comforter. Only now it didn't look nearly as clean.
Apparently it had been stuffed up one of the many holes in our ceiling to keep the cat from exploring the rafters.

I also managed to solve the case of the missing coat. It turns out that a donation box was placed in the main hallway of Robby's school. All of the students were invited to bring in coats and hats that they don't want anymore so that another child can stay warm. Robby deposited his coat in the box on his way back from recess on Friday. The fact that his coat still fit seemed to be inconsequential to him.

As my luck would have it, the coat donation box is picked up every Friday afternoon. Robby's winter coat will now be keeping another child snug and warm. I guess I'm going shopping for a new coat--and comforter!

Trying to be Jolly

2011-12-05T04:51:00.000-05:00

This past weekend I threw myself full-force into Christmas preparation. Robby and I worked on various crafts, resulting in us both being covered from head to toe in colored glitter. We watched holiday movies and roasted homemade marshmallows over the fire. I even took him for a visit Santa! His excitement for Christmas has been worked into a flurry.

Despite my efforts, I find myself feigning holiday enthusiasm this year. Typically I love Christmas time. A few years ago I even invested in a countdown clock. Every September I bring it out we eagerly watch it count backwards from 99 until the big day! (Incidentally, this year I must have miscounted because my clock says that I only have 18 days until Christmas.) This year just feels different.

I suppose that my impending leg surgery and my fears about the growth on my ovary have thwarted any Christmas spirit that was developing. I am just not feeling festive! I keep trying to ignite my jolly disposition, but it isn't working.

I don't feel depressed. Rather, I think I am simply overwhelmed. I don't like uncertainty, and there seems to be only unknown variables right now. When will my leg operation be scheduled? How will we take care of Robby while I'm recovering? What is growing on my ovary? Will I require surgery for the growth as well? Am I going to be facing cancer again? How am I going to take care of everything when I'm recovering? I don't like not knowing these answers!

Many of these answers should be revealed this week. I know that I can deal with just about anything and that I have a strong support system. I would simply like to know what I am up against! Maybe when I have some answers I will start feeling more festive. Until then, I will continue to bake cookies while wearing my Elf apron, decorate the house with anything glittery and don my Rudolph antler headband whenever I go out. All of these things make Robby happy and seeing him excited makes me feel better.

I'm Realistic, but Still Scared

2011-12-02T04:38:00.000-05:00

I wasn't sure I was going to write about this topic, but since I have been so open about my life on every other issue it somehow felt dishonest to keep this information secret. I don't want to be an alarmist, but I also recognize that I am stressed and that my writing often helps. I don't have a lot of information so I am not jumping to conclusions or worst case scenarios.

Since I am a cancer survivor, I am vigilant about staying up to date with my physicals and necessary screening protocols. I am always wrought with anxiety before my appointments. The days leading up to my annual physicals are tense, sleepless, and tear-filled. During this period I am so afraid of receiving another cancer diagnosis that I go onto auto-pilot simply to function. I doubt that anybody who has not heard those words, "Your biopsy was positive. You have cancer" can truly understand the paralyzing fear that is evoked.

Earlier this week I went for my annual gynecological examination. Typical to my fashion, I was apprehensive. Unfortunately, this times my fears were apparently not completely unfounded and I was sent for more tests.

Yesterday, while Robby was at school I went to the hospital for an internal ultrasound. I was told not to expect any results until after the weekend. I decided that worrying was not going to help, so I did my best to push the entire issue out of my mind and simply concentrate on enjoying Robby.

My heart almost stopped when my caller ID came up with my physician's phone number later that afternoon. I quickly surmised that she was not calling to see how the test went, but that she had my results.

It turns out that I have a 4.5 to 5 cm growth on my ovary. I will be going for additional tests next week. All logic points to some sort of cyst. After all, ovarian cysts are common for women my age. I have so many friends who have had similar experiences. Unfortunately, my fears keep leading back to cancer. I am hoping that logic prevails!

This weekend I plan on throwing myself into Christmas revelry in hopes of both keeping busy and staying upbeat. After "Tool School" on Saturday, Robby and I will have cookies and hot cocoa with Santa and Mrs. Claus. In the evening we are going to cut out and bake our gingerbread train and assorted village houses.

Sunday morning we are going to a Christmas parade, and the afternoon will be spent assembling and decorating our gingerbread train and village while watching holiday cartoons. Hopefully it will be chilly so we can have a roaring fire!

I am nervous about the upcoming tests, but worrying is not going to change the results. My best course of action right now is to avoid thinking about the situation. Thankfully I have a wonderful little boy whose enthusiasm about all things Christmas is contagious. In spite of the situation, I don't think it will be difficult for me to feel happy this weekend!

Cover Girl!

2011-12-01T05:02:00.000-05:00

Like so many other people, I have struggled with self-esteem issues periodically throughout my life. High school was a particularly difficult time for me as I was the recipient of taunts, nasty comments, and teasing by the run of the mill group of popular "mean girls." Graduation from high school was a joyous event for me--not because of the achievement but because I wasn't going to have to see any of those people again!

My self-value began to heal through college. I had, and still maintain, a tight group of friends whom I cherish. I was a confident and happy person before my foot was injured. The accident and subsequent amputation not only took my foot but also destroyed my fragile self-esteem. In many ways I felt like the scared, inadequate feeling girl from high school.

There were days when I didn't want to get out of bed (and more than I would like to acknowledge when I succumbed and hid under the covers all day). When I realized that I couldn't hide from my reality, I opted to eat my way out of the despair. That didn't work either. I simply ended up being an unhappy, obese amputee.

It has taken time, introspection, and hard work for my self-esteem to rebuild. After eight years I can finally say that I am happier than I ever imagined possible during those dark days when I was a girl in high school and hiding under my covers with a Snickers bar after my amputation.

Even though I feel as if I have healed from my emotional baggage, part of me continues to resent those "mean girls." I have been told that living a good life and being happy is the best revenge. While I agree with that sentiment, I have found something more satisfying. Old-fashioned, take a look at me now success!
I'm a cover girl! A photo of Robby and me has been chosen to grace the cover of the Ossur Product Catalog for 2012. I was the girl who was called fat, ugly, worthless, stupid, and unlovable. I tried to hide from the world because I thought that I had lost my beauty, my talents, and my ability to be happy when I lost my foot. It feels surreal that I am now featured on the cover of a major prosthetic company's catalog. Who knows, I just might go to my high school reunion next year-- with the catalog in hand of course!

Test Walk

2011-11-30T05:06:00.002-05:00

There are hundreds of prosthetic components on the market, and each device touts a unique feature to distinguish it from the competition. The available choices can be both empowering and frustrating as you try to whittle down all the options to decide the correct prosthetic for your situation. The pressure of choosing the right prosthetic can be downright overwhelming!

New amputees often ask me if they have a role in the prosthetic decision process. My answer is a resounding yes. A prosthetist is there to build the device and to guide the amputee through the decision process. Although his or her expertise is needed and should be weighed, the ultimate choice lies with the amputee. After all, we are the ones who will be wearing the prosthetic and relying upon it everyday.

I never appreciated the value in trying various prosthetics until a few years ago. I had a foot, and I was walking. I attributed my achy back, reluctance to walk distances, and mental fatigue simply to being an amputee. I didn't know that I was settling and that my walking experience could be better. Thankfully Elliot (my prosthetist) recognized my struggles when I did not and encouraged me to try different feet.

That trial experience in Elliot's office changed everything. I switched prosthetics to the Proprio foot, and I now walk without constantly analyzing and thinking about every step. (If you've been reading my blog for any length of time you already know how this device has positively affected my life.) That being said, I will continue to try new devices as they hit the market because I don't want to become complacent.

The best way to make a decision on what type of foot you want is by trying it. After all, most don't buy shoes or jeans without first trying them on. Why would I make a decision about something as important as what foot I want without giving it a test walk? You won't truly get an understanding for how the foot or knee feels and how it responds without trying it.

I have never had a prosthetic manufacturer tell me that I cannot try the product. Although it takes more time and is more work for Elliot, he has never denied me the opportunity to try a foot that has piqued my interest. He is a patient man because I have tried a lot of different feet!

Prosthetics are expensive investments. If you ask to try something and are told no, push for an explanation. If you still want to give a device a test walk and your practitioner won't accommodate your request, consider going to another prosthetist. You deserve the right to choose your own prosthetic. After all, you are going to be the one using it on a daily basis.

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My Christmas List

2011-11-29T04:29:00.001-05:00

What do I want for Christmas? While my wish list includes having the holes in my ceiling fixed, the roof patched and finally having an oven that doesn't have to be pulled from the wall and unplugged to change the temperature, I realize that all of these far exceed the financial means of anybody in my family. Therefore, after much thought, I have finally decided what I would adore receiving.

I want a solid, undisturbed, comfortable full night's sleep! I am not exaggerating by saying that I haven't slept more than 15 full nights in my bed since July. Between Scott's incessant snoring and Robby's recurring night wandering (which always seems to land him in our bed), I have been forced to sleep on a pull out couch or an abandoned race car bed nearly every night.

Being forced out of bed when you are an amputee is not a simple event. If it were simply a matter of moving to a different location, I doubt I would complain. However, by the time I locate my liner in the dark (sometimes knocking over a rogue glass of water in the process) and slip it on, I am more awake than I would like. I habitually fail to unplug my leg from the wall charger before embarking on my midnight move which typically results in either the cat getting whacked in the head with a charger or my becoming tangled and nearly falling. By the time I get to another bed, I am fully awake--and frustrated!

I try to push my frustrations out of my mind, but the fatigue only exacerbates the emotion. I often lie in a quasi-comfortable bed and stew over the fact that it isn't simple for me to get up and walk. Somewhere between "this really stinks" and "I really hate being an amputee," I eventually drift back to sleep. By this time at least an hour has passed.

To be honest, I'm not sure I could sleep for six solid hours anymore. I'm sure I would instinctively wake up and try to don my prosthetic. That being said, I sure would like to try! If I don't receive a solid night's sleep for Christmas, I suppose I would like more coffee.

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Yikes!

2011-11-28T04:59:00.000-05:00

All of the Thanksgiving fun seems to have caught up with both Robby and me. I have been dealing with phantom pain which, by my own admission, makes me grumpy. Thankfully, I don't have persistent phantom limb pain like many of my amputee friends because I'm sure nobody would want to be around me!

My pain seems to flare up during weather changes, socket adjustments, or increased activity. I was on my feet a lot more over the holiday, the weather has been unpredictable, and my prosthetic was adjusted on Tuesday. I suppose I unknowingly created my trifecta for phantom pain!

I notice the electric-like stabbing during the day, but it is most pronounced at night. My leg has been doing the jitterbug, keeping me awake and miserable. Massage helps, but unfortunately nothing seems to take it away completely. I know in a day or two my limb will return to normal and I'll be able to sleep. Until then, I'll be relying heavily upon my Gingerbread coffee to keep me going.

As if my fatigue weren't stressful enough, Robby Rotten has taken this opportunity to make an appearance. He has been downright ornery. If I tell him that it is a sunny day he immediately begins to scream that it is snowing, simply to be defiant. I am getting tired of arguing with my five year old!

Over the past two days he has systematically been stripped of every prized toy. Last night he sneered at me while he was standing in the time out corner and then proceeded to proclaim that it was a "cozy little spot to stand." Feeling overwhelmed and exhausted, I countered his taunt with my secret weapon- tears. Robby Rotten evaporated as I began to cry.

I'm sure that the SuperNanny would scold me for my guilting Robby into good behavior. Thankfully she doesn't know where I live because I don't need her yelling at me too! I never thought I would write these words. However, Robby Rotten and the phantom pain have beaten me down over the weekend. I am utterly delighted that Robby will be going back to school today!

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Gobble Gobble

2011-11-25T04:46:00.000-05:00

We had a wonderful Thanksgiving. I venture to say that it may have been one of our best ever. There was no stress and only happiness, laughter, and a lot of food!

Scott and I woke up early and headed to KMart. We weren't shopping for anything in particular, and we were going because it has been our tradition since we started dating. Not having a "mission" allowed us to simply have a good time meandering around the aisles casually looking for bargains. Although we didn't buy much, I found myself a festive (and extremely comfortable) pair of Santa lounge pants that I plan on wearing while decorating and baking cookies.

The house was filled with my cousins and their children throughout the afternoon and evening. It was so much fun watching all of the younger cousins run and play. Although they don't see each other often, they seem to resume their friendships without missing a beat. It was hard for the adults to maintain conversations over the squeals and giggles emanating throughout the house!
Typical to tradition, my Mom prepared a delicious feast. She always cooks too much food which then is conveniently divided among my cousins to take home. Come to her house for dinner, take home enough food to eat for a week. Nobody ever complains!

We perused the Black Friday ads and have our schedule set for tomorrow. We aren't going after any high ticket items, so I'm not terribly concerned that we will get into a brawl in the middle of the aisle. Of course, you never can tell...If necessary I'm not above walking slowly with an exaggerated limp in order to provide Scott with more times to dash through the store to grab an item. Wish us luck!

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Happy Thanksgiving!

2011-11-24T04:13:00.000-05:00

The days of my throwing some clothes into a bag and heading away for the holiday are over. Now when we travel, even for a few days, I end up loading the back of our SUV with suitcases and bags overflowing with clothes and toys. Traveling for Thanksgiving used to be so much easier!

Yesterday, after packing up both the car and Robby, we headed up to my mom's for the holiday. I was impressed that I was only 40 minutes past my self-imposed deadline. Considering that I was constantly unpacking what my little "helper" included in the suitcases, I was pleased with my quasi-punctuality. Scott drove separately, leaving after work.

The 2 hour drive took nearly 3.5 hours as we crawled along the congested roads with our fellow travelers. Thankfully Robby is a good little traveler. He happily passed the time singing Christmas songs and playing on his DS. I, on the other hand, was not nearly as content. I simply wanted to get to my Mom's, relax, and start the Thanksgiving preparations.

Robby immediately began to help his Nana when we arrived. I hadn't unpacked the car before he was standing on his stool in the corner of her kitchen, cracking eggs and mixing stuffing. It was fun watching him assume the jobs that had been mine when I was a child.

Today we will have a house full of family and friends. Our table will be overflowing with goodies (including cake of course) and I'm sure we will all eat too much. Robby will be able to run around with his pint sized cousins while the adults peruse the ads for tomorrow, share stories, and laugh.

By the time you read tomorrow's blog I will be tucked in bed, warm and hopefully asleep. We plan on finishing our Black Friday shopping and returning to bed before most people have their first cup of coffee. I'm off to develop our sale attack plan. Wish us luck and Happy Thanksgiving!

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Thankful for...

2011-11-23T04:32:00.001-05:00

Yesterday I spent the morning in Robby's kindergarten class helping with their Thanksgiving re-enactment feast. The boys wore feathered headbands while the girls sported adorable Pilgrim hats. We made "stone soup" (from the classic book about sharing) and pumpkin pies. After lunch the class retreated to the carpet, where they performed what the five year olds promised was a traditional Thanksgiving dance: The Hokey Pokey. (Okay, we weren't exactly authentic with our re-enactment, but we certainly had fun.)

Watching Robby sitting with his little classmates, I paused to absorb how much has changed during the past year. He is growing into such an amazing young man. I am so grateful and blessed to be his mom. While I still miss him while he is at school, I'm willing to admit that he is growing and thriving and that the "K" word isn't as bad as I feared.

I am thankful that I am able to be fully engaged in his life. As much as I complain about my insurance adjustor and the hoops that I must navigate to receive care, when the red tape is completed, I am fortune enough to have a prosthetic. So many amputees do not have access to adequate prosthetic care, not only in other parts of the world but in our own country.

So many policies have a lifetime cap on prosthetic care set at an obscenely low amount. I have a friend whose policy maxes out after $10,000. In most cases, $10,000 will only buy three toes and a poorly constructed socket!

Assuming that the lifetime cap is not an issue, many amputees face mounting bills because of requisite co-pays. Some policies require a 20% co-pay on all prosthetic care. Considering that an above knee prostheses with a mechanical knee costs approximately $20,000, the amputee must come up with $4000.00 in order to receive their leg. High co-pays keeps life changing bionic devices simply too cost-prohibitive for so many amputees.

Scrounging up the co-pay amount is a financially impossible feat for an individual who has lost their job due to medical issues or an accident that necessitated the limb loss. Without the prosthetic, they are confined to a wheelchair with limited employment options. A cycle has been established that is difficult to break.

This Thanksgiving I consider myself to be inordinately blessed. I have excellent prosthetic care which allows me to live my life to the fullest. My heart breaks for amputees across this country who cannot walk to the dinner table tomorrow simply because they can't afford a prosthetic. The discrepancy concerning access to adequate prosthetic care in this country is tragic. I consider myself incredibly lucky to be on the propitious side of that continuum. I realize that because of my access to prosthetics, I am able to be the mom that Robby deserves.

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It's Okay To Leave

2011-11-22T04:36:00.001-05:00

When I became an amputee, I felt like I had lost control in many ways. When I was ready to be fit with a prosthetic, I felt as if I were desperately treading water in an unfamiliar world. I didn't understand the jargon, the process, or my options. I was happy when I was handed a leg and blindly trusted that it was the correct device for me. After all, I accepted that my prosthetist was the expert, and I assumed that he knew best.

As I have delved more into the world of prosthetic care, I have learned that my experience is not unique. Many amputees become overwhelmed and confused by prosthetics. Unfortunately, not everybody is fortunate enough to have a phenomenal practitioner. I have discovered that there are a lot of prosthetists who are not providing the highest quality of care.

So many amputees settle for poor prosthetic care simply because they don't realize that they could be doing better. Complaints about ill-fitting sockets, uncomfortable components and difficulty with mastery of the device fill my email inbox on a weekly basis. It frustrates me that so many are suffering because of a poorly fitted prostheses.

My advice is simple: if you are experiencing pain, you need to speak up. When you don't understand why you are being fitted with one component over another, ask for an explanation. If your prosthetist isn't listening, you need to go to somebody who will not only value your opinion, but also realizes that your thoughts are paramount!

As patients, we always have a choice. It is not only your right but also your responsibility to ask questions, to learn about the product, and to make informed decisions. By simply accepting a prosthetic because the "expert" said it is best, may compromise your quality of care.

I have received more bad haircuts during my lifetime than I care to count. That being said, I never go back to a stylist whose work has forced me to wear a hat for six weeks. Using that premise, why would I continue to go to a prosthetist who manufactures uncomfortable, and many times unusable, devices? It is okay to change prosthetists, even if he or she is "really nice," in a quest for better care! You deserve it!

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My Brag Blog!

2011-11-21T05:00:00.001-05:00

During my teaching career, I estimate that I have sat through hundreds of parent-teacher conferences. This past Friday I attended my first conference for Robby. I have to admit that everything looks different from the other side of the desk!

I was surprised at my level of nervousness before the conference with his teachers. I'm involved in his class and speak to his teachers daily, yet the idea of a "formal" meeting put me on edge. What if they told me that my son was unruly, disruptive and not academically swift? What if he is a bully? What if we have been failing at parents and are, indeed, raising a little hellion? I tried to muster my courage, put on make-up and a smile, and prepared to face whatever report was dealt by his beloved teacher.

Academically, Robby is scoring high. He is working on a second grade curriculum for Science and Social Studies/ Geography. His math and reading levels are nearly as high, with him testing at the end of the first grade. I was not surprised that penmanship is an area designated for improvement.

Robby utterly despises pencil work. He loves to paint, but he hates coloring. He refuses to draw anything more than happy faces, but he'll spend hours painting models and decorating treasures with glitter. Trying to get him to write his name or his letters is akin to water boarding in his eyes. On more than one occasion we have both been on the verge of tears when he is required to write words for homework. Although we will continue to work on his penmanship skills, I suspect that a career as a Calligrapher is no longer in the running!

I was thrilled to hear about Robby's academic success. I've always thought he is a smart little boy, but it is nice to have those suspicions validated. The next bit of news that his teachers relayed made me want to jump up and down and do the worm dance in the middle of the classroom. (No doubt that display might have trumped the memory of my scaling a fence to spy on Robby during his first day of school for the school personnel!)

It turns out that Robby is referred to as the "classroom crusader." When he sees a student who is upset, sad, or he perceives as being wronged, Robby immediately steps in to intervene. He has no qualms about offering a supportive hug or stepping in to protect a friend from being picked on. His teachers went on to explain that Robby demonstrates an innate sensitivity towards other students and frequently reaches out to include those who have been excluded from an activity.

While I'm proud of Robby's academic success, I am utterly ecstatic with the compassion that he demonstrates on a regular basis. He has no hesitation to step into a situation to help a friend who is hurting. He isn't shy about offering hugs (which no doubt is one of the reasons he has been so sick this year) and shares what he has in order to help a friend. I hope that he always has this much courage to stand up for his convictions, and he will remain astute enough to see when his friends are hurting.

Although I walked out of the meeting when we were finished, in all reality I might as well have been floating from pride for my little scholar. I barely made it to the security of my car before my tears started to flow. Robby is thriving in Kindergarten, and I could not be more delighted.

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Stay At Home Day

2011-11-18T04:16:00.001-05:00

I declared Thursday to be a "Mommy and Robby Stay at Home Day." While keeping him home from school was not my preference, I was left with no other option. My car was at the repair shop, and our neighbors weren't able to drive him to and from school.

Initially I was frustrated with the situation, but I quickly realized that being upset was only going to ruin the day and was not going to make the car get fixed any faster. I decided to enjoy having my little guy home with me all day!

Robby and I snuggled on the couch in the morning while eating Golden Grahams and watching Ghostbusters (yes, again). After the movie, he slipped his boots over his yellow Spongebob pajamas and put on his coat to go outside to play. I was dressed only slightly more appropriately, wearing sweatpants and Scott's flannel shirt. We played in the woods, chased leaves, and spent nearly two hours "fishing" from the tree house turned Pirate ship.

During the afternoon we lit a fire, watched Christmas movies, and worked on a variety of turkey inspired crafts. His fingers were practically tie-dyed by the time we were done, but our windows are now festively decked out with a gobble of hand shaped turkeys. Working on holiday crafts by the fire while watching all three Santa Claus movies, I found myself feeling happy that my car had was in the repair shop.

I continue to be amazed at how quickly Robby is growing up. Although I didn't want my car to break down and we certainly didn't need the repair bill, I am glad that I was able to escape those worries. Robby and I had a wonderful day together. Sometimes it's a blessing to have an excuse to just stay home and play!

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Should Have Stayed In Bed

2011-11-17T04:54:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was not my best day. The weather was dreary and gray which probably contributed to my sour disposition. Despite having a full schedule, I wasn't particularly motivated to do anything, would have preferred to stay in bed, pull the covers over my head, and hide from the world.

Unfortunately. hiding from the world is not an option when you have a small child. Robby was energetic and ready to tackle the world. I had no choice but to put on clothes, a smile on my face, and try to act happy. I wish I had stayed in bed!

My day began by knocking Robby's cat Charlie out, at least temporarily incapacitating him. I felt horrible that his cat was hurt, and despite being blamed by a scared little boy, I maintain that I was not the cause of the feline head injury. Charlie was aimlessly running through the house yesterday morning. Unfortunately I happen to be walking down the hall at the precise moment that he reached the top of the stairs. He ran directly into my carbon fiber socket at full kitty gallop. He bounced off my leg and seemed to have trouble standing for a few minutes after the impact. Just as I was getting ready to take him to the vet, he returned to his normal kitty self, albeit moving a little more cautiously.

The ominous "check engine" light began to glow on my dashboard as I drove home from dropping Robby at Kindergarten. I despise that light! It didn't take me long to realize that the car was leaking gasoline when parked. I have a hunch that this is not going to be a quick or an inexpensive fix!

Preparing my Google search words, hoping that I would information that would alleviate my financial fears, I was frustrated when my laptop wouldn't turn on. It turns out that the battery was dead. This typically would not have been a stress causing event. Unfortunately, the charger broke the previously night. I now have a very expensive paperweight until the new charger arrives because, as luck would have it, I happen to have one of the few models that do not accommodate a universal device.

Between the kitty, the car and the computer, I was frazzled and irritable by the end of the night. (Just a hint for my male readers- it is not beneficial to remind your spouse that she is irritable. Chances are she knows her own mood and pointing it out only serves to exacerbate the emotions!) Keep your fingers crossed that the car will be a cheap and easy repair, that my new computer cord arrives quickly, and that Charlie doesn't demonstrate any signs of a feline concussion. I am really hoping that today is a better day!

Blog Friends

2011-11-16T04:56:00.001-05:00

My blog began out of my desire to make the transition to limb loss easier for others than it was for me. Although I thought I was emotionally prepared for my amputation, I struggled with a myriad of issues that I never anticipated. I felt detached, many times believing I was a lonely pioneer in a new territory. Writing my blog has helped me connect, alleviating the isolation that I was experiencing.

Through my blog I have had the opportunity to meet some wonderful people by email and phone calls. Although each of us has had a unique journey, I am always amazed at the similarity of our emotions and experiences once the amputation occurs. One of the greatest benefits (for lack of a better word) of living with an amputation lies with the community.

Although I haven't personally met the majority of my readers, I feel as if I have a personal rapport with so many of you. We have shared stories, laughter, and tears through emails and blog comments. I am grateful that I have been invited into the lives of so many wonderful people whom I have come to know as friends. It is a unique relationship that I don't think most people will understand.

Earlier this week I was able to meet my blog friends from Massachusetts. Mary and Pat were two of my first non-relative blog fans. I was delighted when I learned that they were going to be driving through my area and that we were going to be able to connect. After exchanging emails, Facebook posts, and comments for several years, it was wonderful to be able to hug two people whom I have come to call friends!

I am always thankful when I have the opportunity to meet a "blog friend." Whether I am traveling for a conference or visiting family, I enjoy meeting my readers whenever possible. I feel as if I know so many of you already; it's nice to be able to put a voice and face to the screen name. I hope to be able to meet more of my readers in the future!

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Power Foot

2011-11-15T04:14:00.002-05:00

After hearing all the hype, I was thrilled to have the chance to see and to try iWalk's new PowerFoot. I believe the technology is exciting and stands to change everything we know about below knee prosthetics. This device contains a motor that acts as a calf muscle. Each step is powered through the motor and into the foot. The technology has left me feeling inspired about what lies ahead within my lifetime!

Like other amputees who have tried this foot, I find that it is difficult to explain. I felt a slight burst of energy with each step. The knee and hip strategies that I use when walking are not needed while wearing this foot.

Yes, the PowerFoot is both heavy and cumbersome; however, the function far outweighs the weight. After all, I'm sure that my amputated limb weighed at least 4 pounds (the weight of the PowerFoot). Although the prosthetic is heavy, I think that the mass of the leg is more of a detriment.

The components above the foot are large in circumference and look bulky. Wearing a fashion boot would be difficult if not impossible. Although the technology is cutting edge, the aesthetics are reminiscent of the 1960's space program. Of course, the look of the foot would not keep me from using it if I were able.

Unfortunately, because of the sheer size, I am not a candidate to use this foot. At least, I can't use this generation. Perhaps when the technology is further miniaturized and the device is smaller, I will be able to try again. Until then, I remain optimistic about the advances in prosthetic technology and the impact that we all will realize within the next few years.

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The Amputee Stigma

2011-11-14T04:34:00.001-05:00

Yesterday Robby experienced what has become a rite of childhood by attending his first birthday party for a classmate. He could not have been more excited to be invited which happened to be hosted at his favorite bounce spot. I spent the weekend leading up to the party answering the same question: "Is it time for the party yet?"

Sunday morning he woke up early, telling me that he was "ready to go to that party and start jumping." I explained that it wasn't time to leave yet, but he tried to convince me to go early with the promise of cake. While I will do just about anything for a good piece of cake, I wasn't about to go to a bounce house four hours before the slotted party time. I set the timer on the microwave to countdown the time before the party and tried to divert his attention to more constructive projects.

Finally the timer beeped, and it was time to go. Robby stepped into his cowboy boots, grabbed the gift and went running out the door. I noticed in the car that his boots were on the wrong feet, but I figured that he was going to be taking them off as soon as we got to Jump-N-Jimmy's so I didn't bother changing them.

Robby was beyond ecstatic to be at the party. However I felt self-conscious and insecure. The lobby was filled with the parents of Robby's classmates, and this was the first time that I was meeting many of them. I try to feign confidence but, in reality, I am not comfortable around large groups of people that I don't know.

Most of the parents seemed to know each other. While I introduced myself, the cliche seemed closed and my standing in close proximity began to feel awkward. I was content and happy sitting in the comfy chair, sipping on some coffee and just watching Robby run and laugh with his friends.

I tried to sit close enough to the other parents so that I still seemed approachable, yet I didn't want to intrude on their conversation. Finally, two moms came and sat next to me. I smiled and introduced myself as "Robby's Mom." I was hoping to break the ice and start a conversation.

Instantly the moms began to look uncomfortable. Finally, one responded, "So, you're the disabled mom in the class." My face immediately began to flush and my heart rate increased. I think I responded by saying something eloquent like, "Umm.. my name is Peggy." An awkward silence ensured, and my insecurities began to skyrocket. I finally feigned a phone call so that I could get up and leave.

I felt deflated and angry. I have worked so hard to portray myself as a competent and involved parent. I am active in his class and have met all of his classmates. Despite my efforts, I've concluded that some people only define me by my limb loss. In the least I will have to fight an uphill battle against the stigma associated with amputees. In my opinion, these moms are more handicapped by their own ignorance than I am by my amputation.

I spent the rest of the party in the bouncers with Robby and his friends. It turns out that this group of five year olds are more fun, and less judgmental, than their parents! (Incidentally, this one legged "disabled" Mommy was the only adult actually jumping and playing with the kids.)

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Walking Day!!!

2011-11-11T04:49:00.001-05:00

Eight years ago today my life changed forever. I entered my prosthetist's office on crutches, feeling both scared and insecure. After enduring five long years of pain, more surgeries than I care to count, and an amputation, I took my first steps on my prosthetic. Today is my Walking Day.

Walking Day is a concept that developed out of my need to celebrate my accomplishments rather than bemoan my losses. While I'll never forget March 11 (the date of my injury) or July 3 (my ampu-versary), I choose to celebrate the day I took my first steps. After all, it is the date that I began to rebuild my life. In my eyes, it is worthy of celebration!

I am so thankful that my husband (at the time my boyfriend) recorded my Walking Day appointment. It is a video that I have grown to cherish over the years. I have certainly come a long way since I took those first angst and fear-filled steps.

Robby has never known me without a prosthetic. I hope that someday he will watch the video and appreciate my journey and the work that it has taken for me to become the mom he knows. I want him to be proud of me when he grows up.

I will never forget the fear, depression, and hopeless despair that I felt when I first became an amputee. It is terribly isolating to wake up and feel like a stranger to yourself. Remembering those feelings makes me a stronger and better person.

Getting my prosthetic and walking were literally and figuratively my first steps into my new life. I have re-learned to love myself and to accept my limb loss. I have become more active and more outgoing since I became an amputee. I have learned to embrace what makes me different.

Today is a day for happy reflection. I have come so far in eight years. I have learned not only to walk, but to skip, to jump and to run. This is definitely a cake-worthy holiday! Happy Walking Day to me!

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Get a Melissa & Doug 25% Off Coupon When You Take the North "Poll"

2011-11-10T18:23:00.004-05:00

Wow- I can't believe that we only have 44 days until Santa makes his magical appearance. Christmas is so much more fun since I became a Mom! The elves have already been busy at our house, putting up decorations and leaving small surprises while I am picking Robby up from school. No matter how much we try, we just can't seem to catch one in action!

Robby loves Melissa & Doug toys. If your little one likes the toys as well, you don't want to miss this offer. Melissa & Doug want you to tell them which of their educational toys you think is the best! Just click on the image below to place your vote in the North "Poll!" You'll Get a Melissa & Doug 25% Off Coupon** to use at MelissaAndDoug.com just for voting!

Show and Share

2011-11-10T04:24:00.000-05:00

Yesterday morning Robby could hardly wait to go to school. He loves Wednesdays because it is "Show and Share" day. Each week the students are asked to bring in an item related to an assigned topic. This week his class is exploring careers, so each classmate was instructed to bring an item that represents what they want to be when they grow up.

Whenever Scott and I ask Robby what he wants to be when he grows up, he coyly responds, "It's a secret." We tried to pin him down on his item Tuesday night. He finally looked at us and said, "Don't worry. I have everything under control." Not having any answers and tired of asking, I finally gave up. I figured that if he didn't have something for Show and Share, he would be disappointed perhaps learning a very real lesson.

It turns out that Robby knew exactly what he was taking to school. After getting dressed in the morning, he went into my bedroom and emerged carrying my old leg. "Momom, is it okay if I borrow this for today?" He attempted to stuff my prosthetic into his little CARS backpack, but it didn't fit. I had to smile looking at him wearing his little backpack with my plastic foot shell protruding from the side!

All of the cubbies in his classroom were overflowing with plastic fireman hats, baseball bats, stuffed dogs and toy chalkboards. My child's cubby had a leg jutting out. After kissing me goodbye he whispered, "Did you guess my secret Momom? I am going to be like Mr. Elliot (my prosthetist) when I get big. I will make you all the legs that you want."

Robby's presentation earned raves from his classmates and teachers. I learned that he sat in front of his peers, holding my leg, and explained that he was going to build prosthetics to help people walk and run. He described the "really cool robot hand" that he saw in Las Vegas and how he is going to build those arms someday. I was told that he talked for nearly 10 minutes about his ambitions!

I love Robby's unique perspective on the world. He didn't choose to be a fireman or a veterinarian. He wants to be a prosthetist when he grows up. I can't think of anything that would make me prouder!

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Stopping Time

2011-11-09T04:51:00.001-05:00

Yesterday morning I vowed to put the thoughts of my impending surgery out of my mind. After all, there will be plenty of time to deal with that reality. I decided that I don't want to spend too much time fretting or becoming angry about something that is inevitable. Perhaps it is a form of denial--wanting to ignore thinking about something because it makes me sad. If it is denial, I've decided that I'm okay with that!

After dropping off Robby at school, I returned home excited to begin decorating for Christmas. I realize that it is a little early to be putting out the decorations. I need to somehow lift my spirits and colorful lights and glittery ornaments always seem to do the trick. (Besides, I figure I can put out as many decorations as I want this year. Chances are I'll be recovering from surgery in January when it is time for them to be put away and somebody else will have to do it!)

I quickly became sidetracked. I ended up spending the morning buried waist high in piles of clothes and toys that Robby has outgrown. It was not the best day for me to sort through his things. I always end up crying when I realize how quickly he is growing, and yesterday was no exception.

My little boy isn't so little anymore, and it makes me sad. I am so proud of the person he is becoming. He is growing into a compassionate, smart and curious individual, but I just wish he wouldn't grow so quickly!

Despite my emotions, I stayed on task and I had four bags and six boxes packed full of outgrown clothes and toys by the end of the morning. I was also a puddle of tears. Envisioning the happiness that another child will feel while playing with the toys and wearing the clothes made it a little easier.

I dried my tears, put the boxes and bags in the corner, and went to pick up Robby. I found him crying, sitting on the little green carpet in his classroom. He came running to me, literally jumping into my arms. When I asked him why he was crying, he explained, "I missed you Momom. I wanted you to come and pick me up because you make me smile."

In that moment I realized that I am okay that he has outgrown his toddler clothes and toys. I've decided to keep him this size, and this age, forever. Now if I could just figure out a way to stop time...
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This Stinks!

2011-11-08T04:54:00.001-05:00

I used to wake up every morning and instinctively curse both my amputation and my reliance on a prosthetic. As time went on and I learned to adjust, my lamenting slowly went away. Most days I don't even think about my amputation because it has become such an engrained part of my life.

That being said, there are times when I simply hate being an amputee. Yesterday morning I woke up happy and refreshed after my successful trip to San Antonio. I went to bed with a tear stained face, frustrated with the obstacles that arise for many amputees. Sometimes, being an amputee who is reliant upon a prosthetic simply stinks!

I have been having trouble with the skin flap over my residual limb for almost a year. To my chagrin, I was prepared to have surgery this past summer to correct the issue. I was delighted when a new socket and liner seemed to fix the issue, at least buying me more time before the inevitable revision surgery.

Yesterday I learned that not only do I need to have the revision surgery on my limb, but also I have to have 1/2 to 1 inch of bone amputated as well. Re-amputation. I felt like I was being kicked in the chest when I heard the news.

I wanted to scream and cry simultaneously. Why me? I've already lost my foot and ankle. Why now do I have to undergo another extremely painful surgery? I'm a good person. It simply isn't fair. What makes it worse is that I'm angry but I'm not sure who to direct these feelings towards. I can't be mad at any person in particular, just the situation in general. It would be easier if I could blame somebody!

During the next few weeks I'll learn the specifics about the procedure. Right now, I simply don't want to think about it. I wish that being an amputee was easier or that life was somehow fair. I know that I will eventually come to terms with the situation and that I will be okay. But for this moment, I really hate being an amputee!

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San Antonio

2011-11-07T05:00:00.001-05:00

I am home from a successful trip to San Antonio. The weather was delightful and, to my surprise, I actually had the opportunity to leave the confines of my hotel to enjoy the local attractions. Contrary to the results of most of my business trips, I came home feeling both relaxed and refreshed!

I was able to spend Thursday evening walking along RiverWalk and enjoying a scrumptious dinner with some colleagues. I retreated back to my hotel room early where I cuddled in bed to enjoy free reign with the remote control. Strange how being able to watch the television programs of my choosing has become a treat!

Friday morning I attended the ribbon cutting ceremony for Bulow BioTech Prosthetic's newest office. Getting ready for the event, I noticed that my pants were a tad tight. I figure that either the fabric shrunk in the dryer or my bum grew from the Halloween candy. Personally, I'm blaming the dryer!

Five minutes before I was expected to leave, I decided to stretch the pants out a little. Even as I was doing it I knew that it wasn't a good idea. I really should learn to listen to my instincts! Almost on cue I heard a heart stopping ripping sound. I had managed to rip a 6 inch slash in seat of the only pants I packed. I began to panic.

I frantically searched my suitcase, hoping that I had packed something else. Of course it was this trip that I decided to pack only what I needed! My only options consisted of a pair of shorts or my Hello Kitty flannel pajama bottoms. I ironed the shorts, although I probably would have been more comfortable in the flannel pajamas.

After the ribbon cutting, the rest of Friday was spent playing tourist. I visited the Alamo and meandered through local shops. It isn't often that I get to shop without the company of my chatty five year old. I shouldn't admit this, but I thoroughly enjoyed every moment.

Donning the same shorts, Saturday morning was spent greeting participants at the Diabetes Walk for a Cure. I am always terrified speaking to crowds and Saturday was no exception. Feigning confidence and channeling thoughts of my best friend whose son has just been diagnosed with diabetes got me through without passing out or throwing up. I don't think I'll ever get over my nerves regardless of how many times I speak in front of people.

I then joined the thousands of walkers who were participating in the 5K. I have to admit that I was impressed with my ability to keep up with the pace of my fellow walkers. I had visions of me crossing the finish line long after the celebration had ended and the tents had been packed up!

There was a time, not so long ago, where walking in a 5K felt like an insurmountable feat. I was delighted and felt proud of myself when I finished. Instead of feeling exhaustion, I felt like I had just gone for a walk in the park with some friends.

Perhaps my favorite part of the trip occurred on Saturday evening. Upon seeing me across the terminal, Robby broke into a full sprint to reach me. He jumped into my arms, nearly knocking me over, and proceeded to cover me with kisses. He gave me a bouquet of flowers and happily skipped out of the airport holding my hand. Although it is nice to get away and exercise my professional skills, it is always wonderful to come home!

*Oh, in case you have been curious about Friday's daycare schedule. Scott sent me a text at about 11:00 on Friday, informing me that he had submitted his leave form for the afternoon. He reached Robby's school before the dreaded nap time, rescuing him from having to sleep on the floor (which would have been a cot). The boys spent the afternoon at Chick-Fil-A and the park.

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Daycare Dilemma

2011-11-04T04:56:00.002-04:00

I flew to San Antonio yesterday for the opening of Bulow Biotech Prosthetics. While I was thrilled with the opportunity, I felt a surge of panic when I first received the invitation. The logistics that need to be settled before I travel are exhausting.

Before Robby entered school, my traveling was relatively easy. He typically spent the time with my Mom who was willing and able to help us out. Now that he is in Kindergarten, going to stay with Nana has been relegated to an option of last resort. We needed to devise a workable plan for Robby when I travel.

I spoke with Robby's teacher and discovered that many of his classmates move to the adjacent daycare facility at the conclusion of their school day. I saw a glimmer of hope! I spoke with the Director and, to my delight, they would be happy to watch Robby on an "as needed" basis. (Of course they are charging us what I dub the "oh $*%#" hourly price, but in this case convenience trumps price.)

Wednesday night Scott and I explained to Robby that he was going to be staying at school on Friday a little longer. His eyes welled with tears, and he immediately began to protest. He wasn't upset about staying longer at school, nor was he particularly upset that I was traveling. He was devastated that he was going to be expected to take a nap.

"Momom, you're not listening to me. I really really really REALLY don't want to go. They make you sleep on the floor. I don't sleep on the floor! I sleep in a race car bed. Do you want me to just throw my race car bed away and sleep on the floor? I am not a cat or a puppy. I am a big boy who sleeps in a race car bed. I am not going to sleep on the floor! Please don't make me sleep on the floor. A worm might crawl on me. My teacher might step on me. I don't want to sleep on the floor."

My attempts at convincing him that he will lying on a cot and not on the floor were futile. I explained that he is expected to lie quietly but that he does not have to sleep. He continued to complain for the remainder of the night.

I made the best plans for Robby under my current circumstances. He will be with friends, and he is in a safe environment. I know that he is going to be okay, and I feel relieved that we finally have a workable option for when I travel, even if it does involve "sleeping on the floor."

However, I would like to go on record with my prediction for today. I don't think that Robby will lie down on a cot at all. I predict that Scott will take a few hours leave and pick up Robby before nap time thereby rescuing his son from the onerous cot. The two will then spend the remainder of the afternoon watching cartoons, playing the DS and eating chips and dip in their underwear. I'll let you know if I am right!

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Faker Betrayal

2011-11-03T04:11:00.000-04:00

In the amputee community, a "faker" is an individual who pretends to be an amputee in order to elicit attention or sympathy from others. Typically this is done through the internet, although I have heard of cases of "fakers" feigning amputations at support groups. In addition to being a faker, it is not uncommon for this individual to also be a devotee.

Fakers infuriate me! They are often active on social networking sights, waiting to pounce on the sympathies of their unsuspecting prey. They will say that they are not hurting anybody, but in reality, their words and actions harm the entire amputee community.

Constantly soliciting pity by providing horrific stories of victimization casts all amputees in a bad light. Although it is sometimes easy for me to forget, many people don't personally know an amputee. Suppose their first interaction with somebody with an amputation is online. What impression will they have if that person is a faker? The perception that amputees are weak, dependent, and deserving of pity is perpetuated by the faker.

Scott and I work diligently to keep my forum and Facebook fan page devotee, wannabe, and faker free. I estimate that we allow only one out of every five membership requests into the group. I want to keep this little section of the internet safe for amputees who want and need to share very real issues.

Last week I was heartbroken to discover that I had been fooled when two active members were exposed as fakers. In reality, we were not supporting a young new amputee and his mom. We were being manipulated by a 24 year old, fully limbed, pathetic man. I became furious when his betrayals were revealed.

Living with limb loss can, at times, feel overwhelming for even the strongest of individuals. As if learning to adapt to a new body, prosthetics and societal changes isn't hard enough, amputees must also contend with these toxic subcultures. I feel fooled and frustrated when the Faker was revealed. Rest assured Scott and I will remain vigilant. Hopefully, this will not happen again.

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I Would Like to Win... Please Help

2011-11-02T04:48:00.002-04:00

Last month I received an email from a friend encouraging me to enter a contest that was offering a blogging position (with a $100,000 salary) to the winner. Typically I don't pursue these competitions because I figure I don't have a chance.

For some reason, I felt compelled to enter. At the time I reasoned that I had nothing to lose except a few minutes of my time, and since I was bored at that moment, time wasn't a particularly highly valuable commodity. I filled out the required fields and hit "enter" without much thought.

To my delight my ranking in the competition rose quickly. I asked my friends on Facebook to vote, and within a few days I was number 2 in the state. My competitive nature kicked in, and I decided that I wanted to become number 1 in my state.

The first phase of the competition ended on Monday, and at that time my ranking was wafting between 1 and 2. I have the feeling that very few votes separate me from my closest competitor. I am now in the semi-final round, and I am asking for your help. No need to worry, I have no intentions of stopping this blog should I win.

I'm beginning to feel like I actually have a chance in this contest. I have found myself dreaming during the early hours in the morning about how the $100,000 salary would change our lives. For starters, our roof could be fixed so it doesn't rain in my bedroom. I have been trying to imagine how my ceiling will look without the various holes. Robby and I had so much fun splashing in his little blow up pool during the summer. Can you imagine how much we would love having a real pool?

I don't know if I can win this contest, but I know that I want to give it my best effort. Voting takes place daily between now and November 30th. You can vote everyday, and I will be posting a link to the site at the end of every blog post to make it easier. No registration is necessary, and no information is solicited. It will only take a moment of your time everyday. I would really appreciate the support!
http://www.cheapsally.com/profile/peggy-chenoweth/

Halloween Hero

2011-11-01T05:06:00.002-04:00

I am not sure who was more excited about Trick-or-Treating: Scott or Robby. Robby woke up bright and early yesterday morning, excitedly chattering about getting into his costume and getting candy. Scott sent me text messages throughout the day, counting down the hours until Trick-or-Treat. In an effort to stay busy, Robby and I spent the afternoon baking cookies and cake balls for our neighbors.

Fueled on pumpkin and bat shaped pancakes, we dressed in our costumes and took off to tackle the neighborhood. The boys happily skipped from house to house, ringing the doorbell before I made it halfway up the driveway. Yes, they were moving quickly, but I also knew that I was extremely slow. Last night I was having a dreaded "bad leg day."

It feels like the timing of my bad leg days is always poor, but I doubt that I could designate a good time for painful walking. These painful events are few and far between, a fact for which I am grateful. However, when bad leg days do occur, they serve to frustrate and to anger me. I hate feeling disabled or debilitated because of my limb loss. I felt both of those last night!

I knew that they would have slowed the pace had I asked. But I remember being a child on Halloween, and I didn't want them to slow down on my account. I simply became a lame little kitty cat, limping behind the elated Billy the Exterminator and Bumble Bee. I knew it was going to be a long night.

Thankfully Mr. Bill (my neighbor) adopted the persona of Superhero for Halloween. He saw me limping when I dropped off his cookies and cake ball treat earlier in the evening. He decided to swoop in and save the day. Or, at least he saved me a night of painful walking! He loaded some straw in the back of his pick-up truck and offered us a "Trick or Treat hay ride" through the neighborhood. Robby was over the moon excited to be chauffeured in the back of a pick-up. I was grateful for the respite from walking.

Despite my aching leg, we had a great Halloween night. I have no doubt that I would have been utterly miserable by the end of the night had I walked through the neighborhood. Sometimes being an amputee stinks--but a caring and thoughtful friend can make it a little easier!
*** This year Robby wanted to go as A&E's Billy the Exterminator. To be honest I tried to point him in a different direction, but he was insistent. We decided that Robby would be Billy and that Scott would dress as a bumble bee that needed to be exterminated. (Robby's favorite episode shows Billy removing a honey bee hive from a large tree.) Yes, Scott is a really REALLY good sport when it comes to donning costumes!

Happy Boy, Happy Halloween!

2011-10-31T04:31:00.000-04:00

On Friday I hosted my inaugural room mom event. We were celebrating Halloween in Robby's class, a party that was fun for all who participated. His classmates made monster popcorn hands, caramel apples and "dead worms in dirt" cups. Pumpkins were carved and seeds were roasted. His little friends had a great time with the limbo contest, regardless of the fact that none of them seemed to understand the rules. On the way home from his party he told me that it was the "best day of his whole life."

Saturday morning we awoke to a wonderful surprise. Well, it was considered wonderful from the perspective of a five year old, it wasn't nearly as celebrated by most adults. Our area was blanketed with snow!

Robby and I spent the afternoon baking Halloween cookies and brownies. We made a roaring fire and watched The Great Pumpkin at least six times. At night we made popcorn, roasted marshmallows in the fire and curled up on the couch to watch Ghostbusters. Tucking him into bed, he whispered that it was the "bestest day of my whole life" before kissing my cheek.

By yesterday morning the snow had melted and the sun was shining brightly against the blue sky. Still cold, Robby bundled up and went running outside when he saw Mr. Bill working in the yard. The two picked up sticks and hickory nuts for hours before sharing a cheese and cracker lunch.

After taking a break to watch The Great Pumpkin (again) I told Robby that he needed to get into his Halloween costume because I had a surprise. (I didn't know he was capable of getting dressed so quickly!) We picked up his little friend Rowan and headed out to Trunk or Treat.

Trunk or Treat is a community event hosted by a local church. Members of the congregation decorate the trunks of their cars and trucks, dress in costumes and pass out candy. I don't know who had more fun, Robby and Rowan trunk or treating or me watching them. I simply love seeing him so happy!

Robby doesn't eat candy, but that didn't stop him from acquiring as much as possible. We had to double back because he was convinced that we had missed a car. It turns out that he was right. We came home with a pumpkin overflowing with candy. It was promptly dumped in the center of our bed so that he could show his daddy the loot.

After taking his bath and getting dressed in his soft new Halloween pajamas, he proclaimed that it was "the best day ever!" Tonight we are going Trick or Treating through our neighborhood, which I have no doubt will create another "best day ever." Robby's enthusiasm for life and effervescent joy are two of his best qualities. He is such a happy little boy, and I am so lucky to be his Momom!

On a similar topic, Scott and Robby dress in complimentary costumes every year. It is a tradition that started with Robby's first Halloween, when he was only 5 months old. The unveiling of their costumes has become highly anticipated by our neighbors and friends. Tomorrow I will post pictures of their costumes from this year, but I wanted to share our previous Halloween costumes.

The first Halloween they were hotdogs.

For the second Halloween Robby was Curious George and Scott was the Man in the Yellow Hat.

The third Halloween Robby was a runaway Gingerbread man and Scott was the cookie sheet.

For the fourth Halloween Robby was a dinosaur and Scott was a caveman.

Last year Robby dressed as a pirate and Scott was his piratical first mate.

??? This year, well you'll have to check back tomorrow!

My Room Mom Debut!

2011-10-28T04:41:00.000-04:00

I was delighted when I was asked by Robby's teacher if I would like to be Room Mom. Of course I agreed, trying to play it nonchalant by keeping my giddiness in check until I was clearly out of earshot. As soon as I got to the car, both my Mom and Scott received hyper phone calls from me as I gleefully told them my fabulous news. I take this responsibility seriously, and plan on being the room Mom that will become the story of legends for years to come!

Most of Robby's classmates already know me. I spent a few hours in his class last week talking to his classmates about my amputation and prosthetic. I was hoping that the discussion would stem some of the curiosity. So far that has not happened. It seems that "Guess what leg Robby's Mommy will be Wearing" has become a favorite lunchtime game!

Now when I go to pick him up after lunch, I am met with hugs by not only my son, but from his friends as well. Almost in unison the kids begin chattering about my leg choice while putting in requests for me to wear a different leg tomorrow. Not only do they note and question my prosthetic, they continue to be fascinated with the location of the now almost mystical "chopped off foot."

I am hoping that my position as Room Mom will allow Robby's classmates to see beyond my prosthetic. Today is the Kindergarten Halloween party, and I venture to guess I'm as excited as Robby. Robby is thrilled about a day of fun, games and food with his classmates. I'm looking forward to making my mark as Room Mom! Hopefully, by throwing a great Trick-or-Treat party, I can recast my role in his class from the Robot Mom to the Fun Mom.

Pictures and commentary to follow after the party!

Tune In Tomorrow

2011-10-27T04:18:00.000-04:00

In May I was invited to take part in a television show titled "Health Heroes." The show was going to highlight bionic prosthetic devices and the positive impact that they can have on an amputee's life. I was honored to be included in this project!

Typical for me, I was nervous and insecure before the filming. Scott tried to surprise me with a hair make-over. Unfortunately the stylist crafted what rates as one of the worst hair cuts I've ever worn. There was nothing I could do but smile as I was filmed with the horrific helmet-inspired hairdo.

We traveled to Philadelphia in May for the filming, but I haven't heard much information about the program until a few days ago. I am excited to announce that my episode of Health Heroes is scheduled to air on the Discovery channel at 7:00 AM this Friday. If you are up that early, grab a mug of coffee and a doughnut (or two) and tune in. (I realize that the channel guide may state "paid programming" during this time slot, I have been assured that the Health Heroes show will be airing, not a Ron Popeil cooking demonstration.)

I have been hesitant to reveal this air date after the debacle from the National Geographic Show when I was told my segment was going to be featured and learned that I had been cut only after the show aired. I was promised that I have not been cut from this program, and that my segment will air.

Seeing myself on film is never a comfortable experience for me. I become my worst critic, over analyzing every movement I made and word I uttered. I am particularly nervous with this show because I remember how horrendous my hair looked. I'm hoping that I don't look foolish because my intent was to use this opportunity to represent the amputee community in a positive light. I don't know if I was successful, but I tried!

I Hate Kindergarten!!

2011-10-26T04:57:00.000-04:00

Robby had his first visit to the school nurse on Monday. After complaining to his teacher of a sore throat, hurt tummy and "farting ears," they took his temperature. It turns out that he had a fever of 102.3.

I picked him up from school and immediately called his pediatrician. Thankfully, his doctor was able to fit him into her schedule. Robby's strep test was positive (again) and both of his ears were infected (again)! This is his third bout with both ailments in seven weeks. Add his double pneumonia from 10 days ago and we have had our fill of illnesses!

I am putting the blame for the seemingly infinite number of infections on Kindergarten. Robby was rarely sick before he started school. The fact that he had gone through the first five years of his life without an ear infection I carried as a badge of honor. He was a healthy and happy little boy.

We have been fighting coughs, ear infections, vomiting and boogie invasions since the first week of school. I've begun to dread his finishing an antibiotic cycle because it simply signals that another illness will be visiting soon. At this rate, his memories of Kindergarten are going to be set in his pediatrician's office or from waiting in line at the pharmacy.

Robby is now on another antibiotic and is already rebounding. I debated whether or not he should go to school today, but I have opted to send him. His class is carving pumpkins for Halloween. I know that he would be devastated if he missed this fun activity, and I want him to have at least one fun memory from his Kindergarten year!

Welcome Home Erin!

2011-10-25T05:03:00.001-04:00

Yesterday was a special day in our little neighborhood. Our neighbor's daughter, Erin, finally came home after serving as a physician in Afghanistan for the past six months. We have all worried about Erin and have been anxiously awaiting her safe return.

During Erin's deployment her parents took custody of her beloved bulldog, Reese. Robby, of course, was thrilled that a puppy moved next door. In reality Reese is not a puppy and is not terribly energetic, both facts apparently being inconsequential to an animal loving five year old. He told Erin that he would help take care of Reese, and he took his responsibility seriously!

Robby and Reese have spent hours wandering between our two yards throughout the summer. Determined to teach the lethargic canine a trick, Robby was delighted when he finally "taught" Reese to run. This was achieved only through Robby keeping a bacon flavored dog treat in his pocket and running in front of Reese. (She stopped running as soon as she received the treat.)

While the whole neighborhood was eager to welcome Erin home, Robby was especially excited. He asked if we could put out balloons and make a sign. If nothing else, my son loves a party!

Five rolls of red, blue and yellow crepe paper ribbon were carefully strewn among the trees and fences on our street. It took him nearly 90 minutes, but our neighbor's yard, Mr. Bill's fence, and the mailboxes were appropriately decorated. It looked festive and patriotic, at least everything below four feet--the height of his vertical reach!

Erin came home yesterday, and it wasn't long before we were all standing in the driveway to say hello. Unfortunately Robby wasn't able to welcome her home. He was in bed, sick from a recurrent double ear infection and strep throat. I don't know which made him sadder, being sick or not being able to see Erin!

Hallway Laps

2011-10-24T04:26:00.000-04:00

Last week while scavenging through one of three of my kitchen junk drawers, I discovered my long lost pedometer. I tried to remember the last time I wore the pedometer, which was most certainly before Robby was born. I began to contemplate how many miles I walk everyday.

The next morning with the pedometer still sitting on my counter, I decided to satisfy my curiosity. Since it was raining outside, I knew that my walking was going to be limited to indoors, but I figured it would be interesting little project. After changing the batteries and recalibrating, a task which should have taken two minutes but ended up taking nearly twenty, I clipped the little counter onto my waistband and started my day.

Perhaps because I was wearing the pedometer I was more cognizant of my movements throughout the day. I was shocked at how many times I walked up and down our hallway traversing between the bedrooms and living room. It seemed like every time I made it to the kitchen or sat down in the living room, I was being called. I was beginning to think that a secret closed-circuit camera system must have been installed so that Robby and Scott knew when I was taking a moment to relax!

Seemingly every time I tried to sit down, I was beckoned by the squawking of my boys. When "Momom, I need you" wasn't echoing through the house, I was hearing, "Peggy! Come here!" from Scott. The reasons for the screaming ranged from "I don't like this cartoon" to "The phone is ringing." Did they really need me for either of those issues? I have one leg, yet I seem to be the only one in this house who is capable of walking down the hall to communicate!

At night after I tucked Robby into bed, I unclipped the pedometer and checked out my results. Without walking outside, and without changing my routine, I walked a whopping 12,129 steps. Considering that each mile consists of 2000 steps, I walked over 6 miles!

6 miles walking up and down my hallway, responding to the seemingly incessant inconsequential requests from the boys. No wonder I'm tired by the end of the day! I think I'm going to invest in a pair of headphones, and institute a new family walking program so I'm not the only one going up and down the hallway.

Closure Needed

2011-10-21T04:41:00.000-04:00

It is always painful when a friendship comes to an end. Perhaps it is more distressing when closure has been sought but not provided. I think that this is a situation that everybody encounters at some point, but the grief and pain is probably felt more deeply by women. It is not a comfortable state of mind.

I am currently licking my wounds over an ended friendship. In reality, I've known that the friendship has been over for some time. We never had a fight, at least not one in which I participated. Obviously something occurred, but I am at a loss to provide the reason. In any case, my attempts at communication were rebuffed, and after several months I have been able to read the signs.

Confrontation does not come easy for me. In fact, I tend to avoid negative conversations at all costs. That being said, a few months ago I gathered my gumption and wrote an email to my lost friend. I was forthright, acknowledging that the friendship had obviously changed and asking for closure by requesting an explanation for the sudden and drastic change. The email was difficult for me to write. I was disappointed and hurt when I received no reply. In all honesty, I felt that I deserved the courtesy of a response.

I grew tired of feigning friendships on Facebook when obviously there was no relationship. The occasional comments written on a photo or status message only served to reignite my distress over the lost friendship. The connection had become toxic, and I knew I needed to sever ties.

I would be lying if I said I didn't harbor ill-will. I am not angry because the friendship changed and ended. After all, relationships are fluid and are forever adapting. I am resentful because I was denied the courtesy of a reply when I reached out. Ignoring my communication was cowardly. Knowing that I deserve better made hitting the "remove friend" button a little less painful. I'm still a little sad.

My Leg Talk

2011-10-20T04:35:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was "Show and Share" day at Robby's school. All students were asked to bring in something from home that helps them. Robby's teacher also invited me to speak to the class about my prosthetic because, keeping with the theme, it helps me. (We have tried to schedule this lesson several times, but it had never materialized due to Robby's illness.)

Scott and I have been talking with Robby about what he wanted to share for the past few days. Despite our suggestions, he never made up his mind. We had a minor spat in the morning when he informed me that he was taking Mr. Bill to school. His logic--Mr. Bill helps him build things. I tried to explain that he needed to bring something, not someone to school. The technicality seemed to be lost on him. I stood firm and he finally conceded, opting to take his guitar instead.

I dropped Robby and his guitar off at school, knowing that I was going to be returning an hour later for my leg lesson. I didn't have a prepared speech because I figured it was best to wing it. After all, I'm used to explaining my prosthetic. In retrospect, I should have invested more time in my preparation.

When I entered the classroom all of the students were sitting in rows in their little blue chairs. My first impression was how Robby looked so cute sitting in the front row. It was also glaringly obvious that he is at least three inches taller than all of his classmates, but I suppose that is a topic for a different blog.

I began my presentation with my usual explanation. I simply told the children that my leg was hurt and that the doctors tried to fix it. They realized that they couldn't fix it anymore so they gave me a new one. I then took off my prosthetic and explained that my leg didn't hurt anymore. Typically this suffices.

Robby's class is anything but typical. I was quickly peppered with questions from a group of enthralled Kindergartners who had left their seats and were standing around me. "What happened to the foot after they took it off?" "Are worms eating the toes?" "Do I worry that my dog will dig up my foot and run with it?" Robby chimed in with "we don't have a dog, we only have two cats. They don't eat bones." His classmates accepted this explanation and sat down.

A little girl raised her hand and asked me where I got my leg. I explained that I go to somebody who builds me legs and he is called a prosthetist. She informed me that I was wrong, because only God can make legs. I explained by saying, "God made my first two legs, but Mr. Elliot makes my prosthetic leg." She looked impressed and then uttered, "Wow, Mr. Elliot can make more legs than God. Cool." The students then proceeded to engage in a lengthy discussion about God vs. Mr. Elliot, with the verdict in the prosthetists favor. Apparently the fact that Elliot can manufacturer as many legs as I want in a variety of colors and designs was the tipping point for the debate. I really wish I could be a fly on the wall during her next Sunday school class!

Typically I don't remove my liner during presentation. The sight of my residual limb can be off putting, especially for an unprepared child. Finally, with the kids begging to see my leg and Robby pulling off my liner, I agreed.

Seeing the actual limb, without wearing the liner, seemed to make the most impression on the kids. They were able to connect where my leg stopped and my prosthetic began. Most were cautious and respectful around my leg. I told them that they could touch the bottom of my leg but warned them to be gentle. Robby hovered around me, acting as an unofficial body guard.

One little boy, named Blake, made a fatal error during my presentation. He walked up to me, looked at my residual limb and began to belly laugh. His teacher scolded him, but he continued to laugh and began to point.

Robby apparently took Blake's laughing as a personal attack on me. In a flash he pushed his little classmate to the ground. He stood towering over him and warned, "Don't laugh at Momom." As if on cue, Robby's friend Nick joined the crusade by kicking the little boy in the bum while chiming in "Yeah, don't laugh at Robby's Mommy." The teacher separated the boys and I wrapped up my lesson.

I don't condone Robby's behavior, but I would be lying if I didn't admit that part of me was proud of him. In his eyes he was simply defending me. I love that he wants to stick up for me, and that he has friends who will rally behind him. That being said, I would rather he use his voice rather than brute force.

My Kindergarten presentation was nothing like I was anticipating. The question/ answer session turned into an inquisition based on theology. Follow that with the smack down by Robby and his wing man, and I was ready to go home. At least I have a year to work on my presentation; I've heard first graders can be brutal!

Insurance Overload

2011-10-19T04:45:00.000-04:00

During the past few weeks I have been eating, drinking, and dreaming all things related to prosthetic insurance. To say that I feel overwhelmed is an understatement. I'm doing my best to absorb as much information as possible.

Every night, when I feel discouraged I congratulate myself for knowing more about the topic than I did when I woke up. I remember feeling this lost when I first began to learn Braille. With practice and time, the code made sense and is now second nature for me. I'm hoping that I can experience the same success deciphering the insurance red tape obstacle course!

Many times my head feels like it is spinning with all of the new information I am trying to process. At the same time, I find myself feeling sad. I never realized how much of an amputee's prosthetic care was dictated by the insurance policy!

While many policies now provide provisions for bionic technology (C-leg, Rheo knee and Proprio foot, etc.), the inclusion does not necessarily mean that the amputee will receive the device. The pesky "when medically necessary" rider in all policies often precludes amputees from gaining access to these life changing devices. Because of this stipulation, amputees need to know that their initial insurance claim for a bionic device will almost certainly be denied, prompting an appeal.

During the appeal the patient and the practitioner must prove why the desired prosthetic device is required. Proving medical necessity is a time consuming task, and many practitioners are not willing to invest their staffing resources towards this effort. Therefore, many amputees are forced to settle for an "almost-as-good" prosthetic.

A willingness to fight the appeal is not the only variable to secure success. I learned that appeals can go to one of two places, depending upon the type of insurance. The optimum route is having the final appeal decided by the state insurance board of appeals. This options provides for the most unbiased ruling and affords the amputee the best chances for having the claim approved.

Unfortunately a majority of insurance plans in this country are employer based plans, referred to as an ERISA policy. These plans are most commonly offered by companies with more than 100 employees. My husband works for a school system in Virginia. Our insurance is Blue Cross and Blue Shield, but it is an ERISA based plan.

Why is this information important? Because in an ERISA based plan, the final insurance appeal goes directly to the employer, not to the state insurance board. The employer decides what is covered and what is not going to be covered because they are the direct payer. The insurance company is merely acting as the middle man during the claim process.

With an ERISA based plan, the amputee's prosthetic decisions are relegated to nothing more than a simple popularity contest. If the individual, or somebody in their family, has clout within the organization, there is a good chance of having the appeal granted. If they are simply another employee without political ties within the company, the chances of having their claim approved may be greatly diminished--regardless of how hardworking the individual or how necessary the device.

There is no greater time in history to be an amputee. Prosthetic technology stands to change the quality of life for scores of individuals who have been struggling with limb loss. Unfortunately, the reality remains that this technology remains elusive for so many. It is heartbreaking to realize how many amputees are denied access to these life changing prosthetics because of riders in insurance policies and a popularity contest at their place of employment.

Flower Power

2011-10-18T04:16:00.000-04:00

I have been struggling to devise a workable schedule. Between Robby's kindergarten obligations and my working, I feel like I am frantically spinning my wheels yet little seems to be accomplished. Yesterday I worked on reports for the few hours Robby was in school. I had a work meeting scheduled and, left with no options, I had to take him with me. I packed a lunchbox full of snacks, his fully charged DS, and an assortment of quiet art supplies in the hopes that he would be entertained and let me work.

The 45 minute drive to my meeting was spent with me firmly informing Robby about my expectations. I expected him to be quiet and polite. I hoped that the promise of doing something special, should he behave appropriately, would seal the deal.

My meeting ran long, lasting over two hours. Despite my fears, Robby Rotten never emerged. My little guy spent the entire time quietly playing, and I even received compliments from others in the waiting room about my child's behavior! I could not have been more proud.

As soon as we got to the car, Robby reminded me that he was promised something special. I quietly sighed, disappointed that I had resorted to bribery instead of simple expectation to secure good behavior. After all, Robby should behave because it is an expectation, not because he is promised a reward. In my zeal to have a successful meeting, I felt like I broke the cardinal rule in parenting: "Thou shall not bribe thy child."

My internal reprimand was interrupted when Robby began to speak. "Momom, since I behaved, you said that I could do something special. Do you remember?" I told him that I remembered, and prepared to talk him down from an outrageous and unrealistic request like "I want to go fishing at the aquarium."

As I buckled him into his seat he continued with his request. "Well Momom, I was thinking. I really really REALLY want to stop and buy you some flowers. But there is one problem, I don't have any money. Can you please give me some money so that I can buy you some flowers? I know how much you love flowers, and I love you."

I regret that I bribed my child to insure good behavior, but I felt desperate to keep Robby Rotten at bay. I am not perfect, and I'm doing the best that I can in this new situation. I must be doing something right because Robby's request was not for himself but was for a gift for me. We stopped at the store and he picked out what he swears is the prettiest flower in the whole wide world- a bright yellow pansy plant. Sometimes I am reminded that I do have the sweetest little boy!

Snake Attack

2011-10-17T04:17:00.000-04:00

The cooler air of fall forces unwelcome outdoor pests to take refuge in my home. A stink bug colony has set up camp in my living room. It doesn't matter how many bugs I relocate (to the toilet) there seems to be a never ending supply of volunteers to assume their place. Air fresheners do little to mask the distinctive odor!

I could handle the army of odoriferous bugs, but I am having a difficult time with the snakes. I was on the phone a few days ago, happily chatting with my Mom while toiling in the kitchen. In mid-sentence my conversation stopped as I let out a blood curdling scream: I spotted a snake in the center of my dining room floor.

I felt a bit like the roadrunner from the Bugs Bunny cartoon as I hung up the phone and vaulted onto the top of my kitchen table. I am amazed how swiftly I could reach high ground considering that I wasn't wearing my running leg!. Robby followed suit and, within seconds we were both peering off the table, staring down at a snake.

We stayed on top of the table for about ten minutes, staring at the serpent invader. My inclination was to stay put until Scott came home, but I wasn't confident that the snake was going to stay still for another two hours. Perching on top of the kitchen table no longer felt like a viable action.

Robby and I debated our plan. He wanted me to hop off the table, go into the kitchen and grab a mason jar. I was then to pick up the snake with the hot dog tongs and place him into the jar so that he could keep him to show his daddy. I wanted to jump off of the table onto the snake, squashing him instantly. I won the debate.

I took a deep breathe and stepped onto the kitchen chair. Screaming "cowabunga" I jumped directly onto the snake. (In retrospect I'm not sure why I screamed cowabunga; it simply felt right at the moment.) We then put the snake into the mason jar and set him on the back porch so that Robby could show his Daddy what was a very dead, partially flattened snake.

Almost immediately after the incident I began to conjure images of the grieving snake mommy and daddy. I imagined the mommy snake weeping and slithering around the yard, looking for her little baby. Tears started to well in my eyes--my guilt definitely got the better of me.

My friends tried to convince me that the snake was more frightened of me than I was of him. I doubt this is true. I feel bad for killing the snake, but in that moment, I didn't know what to do.

While I remain terrified of snakes, I don't want to develop a reputation among the reptile community as a nasty giant-footed squasher. Therefore, I am going to become prepared so I have more options. I'm going to invest in a pair of snake tongs so that another intruder doesn't have to meet the wrath of the carbon fiber foot!

My Lifetime Prosthetic Projections

2011-10-14T04:05:00.000-04:00

I have written about my frustrations with my workman's compensation insurance adjustor on numerous occasions. My most recent rants centered around our disagreement concerning my lifetime prosthetic needs. Elsie (my adjustor) proposed a plan which forced me into a wheelchair, albeit it well-cushioned, with minimal prosthetic use. Have I mentioned how much I dislike Elsie?

In order to present a counter proposal, I needed to determine the approximate cost of my future financial care. I thought that the estimates would be readily available on the Internet. I was wrong! I could not find anything that referred to the lifetime cost of prosthetic care for the average below knee amputee. I had to start from scratch.

I felt overwhelmed and intimidated when I was instructed to develop my lifetime care plan. I didn't know where to begin and, had it not been for a wonderful prosthetist and my extremely knowledgeable friend Dave who was gracious with his time and skill set, I might still be hiding under my comforter crying. I am not sure I can bake enough cookies to thank either of them!

After several drafts, we arrived at the following estimate. I wanted to share this information because it is an issue that many amputees will eventually face during the settlement phase of an insurance case. I am hopeful that many of the frustrations I encountered can be avoided through the sharing of my worksheet.

Each amputee's prosthetic needs are different and their lifetime plan must be individualized. I currently utilize three prosthetics: my Proprio (bionic), my Mod III (sport leg) and my swimming prosthesis. The lifespan of each of these prosthetics is based upon the manufacturers warranty.

This worksheet is simply my projected prosthetic care, including sockets, liners and components. I did not address the costs of future medical care, including revision surgeries, x-rays or medications in this spreadsheet. Obviously the inclusion of future medical needs will increase this figure significantly. That, of course, is another spreadsheet in progress...

Minnesota Recap

2011-10-13T06:55:00.000-04:00

Although I hated being away from Robby and Scott, I had a successful trip to Minnesota. Putting on my professional garb, staying in a hotel and attending meetings remains a novel and exciting experience. I love being challenged academically and exercising parts of my brain that have not been stimulated in a long time!

While I adore being a wife and mom, but I have come to realize that those two roles do not totally define me. I am so much more than a caretaker. It is refreshing to be in the company of others who do not expect me to also clean the dishes or do their laundry after a conversation!

I am excited about this new professional opportunity. During the course I learned the ins and outs of writing insurance appeals. It is a complicated process but I feel like I am up to the task. I am thrilled that my words might be able to help another amputee obtain the prosthetic devices that they require to achieve their goals. As a bonus I get to hold the insurers accountable and force them to deliver on their policy promises!

Although I'm going to be able to work from home, this new endeavor is going to impact my schedule. I suspect we are all going to experience some growing pains as we learn to adjust and adapt to my new responsibilities. I typically don't enjoy change, but I have to admit that this one has me excited!

** Perhaps the best news I received while in Minnesota came in a phone call from Robby. I heard him giggle for the first time in days. My little guy is on the mend!

Guilty in Minnesota

2011-10-12T04:24:00.000-04:00

Today I find myself in an unusual situation. Robby is still sick, and I'm not with him. Instead, I'm in a hotel room in Minnesota preparing myself for a day of training.

This is the first time that I am away from Robby when he is not feeling well. I've nursed him through every infection, bump, cut, and bruise for the past five years. I feel guilty for not being with him today!

Guilt, I've learned, is part of being a mom. I constantly feel like I should be doing some more or that I should be better than I am. This morning I feel conflicted. Part of me feels selfish for leaving Robby while he is sick. At the same time, I know that this is a fantastic professional opportunity that will benefit the entire family. I am starting to rediscover a life outside of caring for Robby, but the guilt of leaving him while he is sick is overwhelming.

I know that Robby is on the mend and is in great hands because Scott has taken off of work in order to be with him. The two were planning a "Daddy/ Robby sick day" when I was leaving. From what I overheard, they intend to stay in their pajamas all day. (Apparently clothing is a "Momom rule.") They are planning on lying on the sofa bed while watch Scooby Doo and CARS. Robby is looking forward to eating Kraft mac and cheese and as many vanilla pudding cups as he desires for every meal.

I am trying to push the mom guilt out of my mind and concentrate on the task at hand. I'll be in a class all day trying to absorb every detail about insurance reimbursement and the appeal process. It's been a long time since I've had to take notes! Wish me luck!

Sick Frustrations

2011-10-11T05:04:00.001-04:00

The past 36 hours have been stressful, exhausting, and just plain miserable. Robby went to bed Sunday night with the sniffles and complaining of a sore throat. At about 10:30 I heard him violently coughing. I slipped on my liner and leg and took off running to his room. I found him sitting on the side of his little race car bad, gasping for air.

After calming the cough in our bathroom converted to steam room, I dug out his froggy shaped humidifier and pulled out the sofa bed. I knew it was going to be a long night. I failed to anticipate just how long the night would become!

I slept wearing my liner for the rest of the night. Actually, slept is not the correct verb. I fretted, worried, and perseverated while wearing my liner. I wanted to be able to reach him quickly if he needed me, and I didn't want to lose those precious seconds that I would have required to don my liner.

Nights like Sunday night are the times that I despise being an amputee. I resent that my response time is impacted because of my reliance upon a prosthetic. I hate that I can't simply get up and run like my bi-legged mom friends. My ability to care for my son is hindered, albeit momentarily, because of my limb loss. Sunday night, listening to him cough and struggle rendered me feeling helpless. Much of mental energy was spent cursing my amputation during those hours.

Despite my lack of sleep, I am glad that I stayed in his room. Robby had two more coughing spells, the final one landing us in front of the doctor. Seeing him struggle to breath and starting to turn blue was utterly terrifying!

It turns out that I have a very sick little cowboy. In addition to a double ear infection and strep throat, he has pneumonia in both of his lungs. Armed with an arsenal of antibiotics and assorted prescriptions, a stock pot full of homemade chicken noodle soup, and a new Scooby Doo DVD, we are hoping for a speedy recovery.

Maize Confusion

2011-10-10T04:35:00.000-04:00

The weather this weekend was nothing short of gorgeous. Seeing the sun shine against the bright blue sky made me feel both energized and happy. Knowing that I didn't want to be holed up all day captive to various football games constantly streaming on the television and computer, I decided to pack up the family (after donning our matching shirts of course) and drive to a corn maze.

Eager to "master the maze," we bypassed the winding line of participants in front of the information booth and entered the field. After all, we weren't interested in learning the history of the field; we just wanted to conquer the maze!

The maze was massive and, it turns out, quite complicated. Every few feet we encountered opportunities to make a directional decision designated by a number on a post. Novices at corn mazes, we quickly became confused and overwhelmed.

We let Robby make all of our directional choices. He had a blast being the leader, marching us up and down (and up and down again) the corn rows. We kept running into dead ends and I swear we walked in the same circle no fewer than four times. It turns out that Robby has inherited his sense of direction from both parents. There was no doubt about it--we were utterly lost in the maze of maize. I was frustrated that we were so pathetically discombobulated when our fellow navigators seemed to be flying through the field.

After about an hour of corn confusion, Robby stopped dead in his tracks. "Momom," he whispered. "Just stay calm, but I think I see the corn monster ahead. Give me your leg so I can whack him on the head. You can hop past him after I knock him out." I refused his offer, explaining that I needed my leg to walk and that Daddy could whack the corn monster. "No no no Momom. Just give me your leg. I'll give it right back, I just want to borrow it for awhile. Please Momom please.. just give me your leg. I promise to give it right back."

We proceeded to have a 10 minute conversation, filled with pleads for my prosthetic and my attempt at logic which must have been bewildering for eavesdroppers through the tall rows of corn. He was finally satisfied to yield a corn stalk to fend off a potential visit from the corn monster although he did tell me that he could not guarantee that we wouldn't get eaten. I decided that it was a risk worth taking. To be honest, I was just happy to be moving again even if it was in a seemingly never-ending and increasingly familiar loop.

We continued our trek through the corn until we came upon a group of people. I noticed that the adults were each holding a sheet of paper. When I asked them where they picked up a map, they showed me that they were holding the question sheet that accompanies the maze. Apparently, had we gone to the information booth before entering, we would have learned that the seemingly randomly placed numbers in fact corresponded with a multiple choice question. Answering the question correctly indicated that direction that should be taken.

Feeling foolish for bypassing the information booth and ignoring all of the numbers, and tired from schlepping through a dirty field for nearly 90 minutes, we dethroned Robby from his role as leader. We followed our fellow navigators through the maze, trying to keep a distance so they didn't realize the depths of our idiocy. After another 10 minutes we were led to an exit which was, ironically, the same place that we had entered.

<-- This is a photo of the Maze from above. We are fairly confident that we were looping around the rifle for about an hour...

HAPPY Amputee Awareness Day!!!

2011-10-07T04:43:00.001-04:00

In honor of today being designated Amputee Awareness Day, I have decided to highlight my favorite five things about living with limb loss.

1. Handicapped parking. Yes, I realize that there is some debate concerning whether ambulatory amputees should take advantage of this accommodation. While I don't always utilize the convenient spots, I will admit that I don't feel guilty should I decide to take advantage of the opportunity. I find the priority parking particularly satisfying on high shopping days, especially Black Friday.

2. Bypassing snaking lines at amusement parks and events. We were spared hours of standing in a slowly meandering line, congested with hundreds of hot and sweaty participants when we attended the White House Easter Egg Roll this Spring. Because my prosthetic was visible, the attendants ushered our family to a private waiting area, complete with lawn chairs and bottled water. We were also permitted entrance a few minutes early which enabled us to avoid waiting in even more lines!

From concerts to amusement parks, the courtesy afforded to individuals with disabilities should not be underestimated. We are able to ride three times as many attractions as my fellow park goers simply because we don't have to wait in the snaking lines. Some amusement parks offer reduced admission to individuals with disabilities, although I have to admit that I do not accept this discount.

3. Priority boarding. After I have been thoroughly screened by TSA, I am often permitted to board the aircraft before the general boarding commences. This courtesy is especially beneficial when flying on Southwest, an airline which does not assign seats. I appreciate not having to stand in a cattle chute with scores of other passengers, all standing ready to elbow and push their way to the front of the line for a window seat!

4. Socks last twice as long. After I started utilizing a prosthetic, I quickly realized both the inconvenience and the unnecessary need of changing my sock that is donned over my foot shell. After all, the plastic doesn't sweat or shed skin. Within days I purged my sock drawer, replacing all of my colorful and whimsical socks with plain white. Now I have to change only the sock on my foot daily. (I do try to remind myself to change the sock on my prosthetic weekly, although I admit that I sometimes forget!) A six pack of socks lasts a long time!

5. The amputee community. A bond exists among amputees that surpasses most casual affiliations. An amputee can make a reference to socket issues or to phantom pain and often no other descriptors are necessary. We all know the discomfort and frustrations that accompany those issues. It is nearly impossible to accurately describe a "bad leg day" to an able-bodied friend. My amputee friends immediately relate and no further descriptions are necessary.

There is a comfort that can be obtained simply by being around another amputee. Often I am the only one in the room with a prosthetic. If I am at an event and see another amputee, no words need to be spoken for a connection to be made. Knowingly nodding and smiling because we simultaneously realize that we are no longer the "only one" in the room is the only communication necessary.

It takes a resilient and strong individual to fully engage in life as an amputee. Depending upon carbon fiber and titanium simply to get around and being forced to change plans because of a mechanical breakdown can be frustrating and humbling. The happiest and most active amputees have developed a sense of humor as part of their arsenal for adjustment. If you are ever at a party and see a group of amputees, stand close by. I guarantee that you will laugh and have a good time!

I am using today as an opportunity to celebrate my life and everything that I have accomplished since becoming an amputee. My limb loss marked the end of an old life and the birth of my new beginning. Since I am forced to live with the detriments of living as an amputee, I am entitled to celebrate the benefits! Happy Amputee Awareness Day!!

No Maternal Medical Confidence...

2011-10-06T04:31:00.000-04:00

Yesterday Robby experienced his first Kindergarten sick day. He woke up with a fever and complained of a sore throat, "farting ears" and a "battle going on inside his brain." Trusting my mommy instincts, I was certain that he had either an ear infection or strep throat.

I immediately called the school to report his absence and then scheduled an appointment with the pediatrician. After all, the sooner we started antibiotics, the quicker he would recover. I was proud of myself for acting so quickly. Apparently my mommy instincts are not honed yet. After the $20 co-pay, he was diagnosed with a cold and prescribed water, rest, cartoons and pudding.

While I'm relieved that he is simply suffering from a cold instead of a more serious infection, I feel embarrassed that I was not able to discern the difference. I always feel like an inadequate parent whenever I take Robby to the pediatrician for what turns out to be a benign ailment. I don't want to be overprotective, but I also don't want to miss a serious infection because of my hesitation.

I wish I could trust my instincts without apologizing. Robby's first pediatrician was a brash, rude man who should have left the medical profession a decade earlier. I rarely left an appointment in his office without feeling belittled, embarrassed, and many times in tears. His practice was highly recommended by friends, but I learned the hard way that experience trumps recommendations every time. Leaving his care was one of the best decisions we have made, and I only regret that we didn't act earlier.

Robby's new pediatrician is a gem. She listens to my thoughts and is gentle with Robby. I feel 100% confidence in her abilities. I know that my hesitation and lack of confidence when it comes to medical issues stems from my past pediatric experiences, but unfortunately, identifying the cause hasn't lessened my insecurities.

I may not be good at diagnosing Robby, but I am great at nursing him back to health. We spent the day on the sofa, watching cartoons, and reading books. He took a nap on my lap (which I thoroughly enjoyed) and colored Halloween posters. He exclaimed that my "chicken soup is magic" because he is already feeling better. (Incidentally all the credit for the soup's healing properties belong to Campbell's, but I happily accepted the compliment.)

Hopefully I will gain more confidence in my medical maternal instincts. Until then, I will continue to keep the pediatrician on speed dial and the cash for our co-pay on hand. I have a feeling that this is the first of many colds he is to experience this school year!

Amputee Awareness Week--(for the World)

2011-10-05T05:01:00.000-04:00

I have received emails from readers from all corners of the globe, and I am constantly amazed that although the geography differs vastly, many of our self-image and daily living issues are universal. I love getting messages from readers. The communications that I receive make me feel as if the time and the effort that I devote to my blog are not spent in vain. It's always nice to know that my words are being read!

Tuesday morning while sipping on my first of three cups of coffee, I opened my email. I was delighted when I realized that my inbox was filled with messages from people instead of advertisements for flowers, various daily deals, and counterfeit Viagra. It turns out that many of the messages were from my amputee friends wishing me a Happy Amputee Awareness Week.

The Amputee Coalition of America (ACA) designated April to be Limb Loss Awareness month. When I questioned the reasoning behind choosing April, especially considering that the rest of the world celebrates during first full week in October, I was informed that the October was too congested with breast cancer awareness. April, it seems, was apparently decided by committee because no other cause or awareness group had made inroads towards claiming the month.

For the majority of the world, Amputee Awareness week runs from October 4-11. Unlike the designation in this country, October was not chosen by happenstance but was chosen because it was during this week in 1846 that the first patent was awarded for a prosthetic device. The patent marks what is accepted to be the beginning of the modern age of prosthetics.

The actual patent was awarded on October 7 which has become recognized as Amputee Awareness Day worldwide. Except, of course, in the United States. History be damned, we are apparently sticking with April.

I plan on honoring both designated events. All efforts to gain awareness, particularly about prosthetic parity, are worthwhile. I'll be wearing my button proudly this week. If Robby is feeling better and returns to school by Friday (he has caught his first of what is sure to be many bouts of what I have dubbed the "kindergarten cruds") I will speak with his class about prosthetics.

Happy Amputee Awareness week!

Shoe Shopping Surprise

2011-10-04T04:35:00.000-04:00

If you have been reading this blog for any period of time, you know of our relationship with Mr. Bill. Mr. Bill is our neighbor whom Robby has adopted as both a friend and a mentor. The two toil digging in the dirt, laying sod, and working on whatever project is being constructed at the time.

Robby adores Mr. Bill, and I believe the affection is reciprocated. Every afternoon after I pick up Robby at school, we drive directly to Mr. Bill's house. The two sit at his kitchen table sharing cheese and crackers while Robby fills him on his school activities. I should probably explain that Mr. Bill taught Robby to bite cheese directly off the block "like a man" instead of cutting it into squares "like a girl."

Going to debrief with Mr. Bill is such an expectation that Robby won't tell me anything about what he is doing in school when I pick him up. He merely replies, "I'm saving it to tell Mr. Bill." If I didn't eavesdrop I would never know what was going on! Their relationship is both rare and special.

Mr. Bill has chopped and supplied us with several years worth of firewood, claiming that swinging the ax is therapeutic for his shoulder and he needed to get rid of the dead trees. He built Robby's tree house. He taught Robby the joy of peeing on trees. He worries about me when my limp is pronounced. He also confessed that my wearing sandals (and having the foot shell visible) makes him sad; I try to avoid wearing my sandals in front of him.

In return we take him leftover meals when I know he isn't feeling well and keep him in a steady supply of cookies and cakes. Robby and I shovel his driveway and sidewalk when it snows (and I pretend that I didn't notice the dollar he slipped into Robby's mitten.) We get his mail, and I listen to his stories. Still, I often wish that I could do something more.

Yesterday, after the cheese and crackers were cleaned up, Mr. Bill asked me for help. He explained that his favorite shoes were worn out and that the duct tape was no longer holding the soles together. He tried to call the number for the shoe store but the number has been disconnected. He wanted to know if I could "go onto that www thing" and see if I could find the shoes, but lamented that they probably were no longer available because they "are old, just like me."

Robby and I headed home and immediately became cyber detectives. It didn't take long. In fact I was surprised that I located the prized shoes within three clicks. With the fourth click I pressed the "buy me" button, and the shoes are now on their way!

Mr. Bill doesn't know that we found the shoes. I think we'll just leave them by the door for him to discover. After all, that's how Robby's fishing pole always magically appears at our house, anonymously fixed after the line is tangled and reel is broken.

Not So Phantom Pain

2011-10-03T04:33:00.000-04:00

I love autumn. I relish the cold evenings sitting by a crackling fire with the aroma of fresh baked bread wafting through the air and applesauce simmering on the stove. From the pumpkin patch to the apple orchard, fall is full of wonderful family adventures. I feel energized and alive when the air becomes crisp and cool.

Unfortunately, I also feel a lot of pain during this time of year. The drastic temperature fluctuations wreaks havoc on my stump causing my nerves to do the jitterbug and my bones to ache. Some days I plaster a fake smile on my face as I struggle through the pain. I don't want my discomfort to be limiting so I try to push through, but it isn't easy. It is during those moments that I despise being an amputee!

During the first few days of autumn weather, my leg bones ache. I wouldn't describe the sensation as painful, but it is certainly draining. I am reminded with each step of my amputee status as I feel a dull and twisting pain in my residual limb. It often feels as if my ankle is twisted which I find particularly annoying since it is not there! My gait has been adversely affected because of the discomfort causing me to walk with a limp--a reality that I also find annoying.

At night, when all I want to do is take off my leg and sleep, I find that the pain is at its peak. My leg goes into a full jitterbug routine, kicking wildly in response to the stinging nerve pain. The past few nights my stinging has caused my leg to wail so intensely that I moved to the pull-out couch in Robby's room so that Scott could sleep.

Warm baths, compression, and my Homedics massage pillow all help to alleviate the phantom flare-ups, but none extinguishes the problem completely. All I can do is try to keep busy and wait for everything to normalize. Thankfully in a few days my limb will adjust and return to its normal, happy state. That is, until the first snow begins to fall!

My New Profession

2011-09-30T04:50:00.001-04:00

I've been working for my prosthetist Elliot for the past year, writing his blog and managing his facilities social media connections. I have managed to carve out my own little niche that allows me to work at home while earning money. It has been an ideal set up.

This week I had a meeting with Elliot to develop a social media plan. Typical to my fashion, I went into the appointment armed with statistics, information, a notebook full of ideas and a stomach full of nervous energy. It turns out that we never discussed anything on the agenda and my nerves were not necessary.

As soon as I sat down I was offered a new professional opportunity. Initially I was taken aback, but it didn't take long for my excitement to grow. After all, this position is the perfect blend of my professional goals and personal aspirations.

Like prosthetists across the country, Elliot has been having a difficult time getting reimbursed by insurance companies, particularly for bionic devices. Adjustors routinely deny the initial claim request, prompting the practitioner to file a lengthy justification and appeal. The process is time consuming for the billing specialist; ultimately resulting in a backlog of appeals, a loss of revenue, and rendering the amputee without the needed prosthetic device.

I understand the frustrations that arise when care is determined not by my physician and prosthetist but by a bean counting, heartless insurance adjustor who obviously lacks a moral compass. (Is my bias showing?) I find little as satisfying as helping another patient maneuver through the paperwork minefield in order to obtain their entitled services and devices. I am going to be working in a professional capacity to help my fellow amputees. The fact that I get to stick it to the insurers at the same time is a bonus. This position could not be more perfect for me!

Going into the meeting I never imagined that this position existed, let alone that it would be offered to me. I've often heard that some of the best opportunities in life are unplanned surprises. This is certainly true in this situation.

I was feeling like everything was beginning to fray around me. Countless nights have been spent sleepless as I've worried and fretted over finances and pondering "what am I going to do when I grow up." Now I will be able to continue to work from home, which is the ideal situation for my family. I suspect that the few hours a day that Robby will be in Kindergarten will virtually evaporate under my increased workload. Who knows! If I have enough hours, I may even hire a cleaning service to help twice a month!

Schedule Change

2011-09-29T04:21:00.000-04:00

It feels like it has been overcast, dreary, and gray forever. Rain has been falling sporadically for the past week. Our yard looks like a mushroom farm with all the little fungi sprouting up everywhere. I miss the sun, and I am beginning to get depressed!

In truth, my blue mood is the result of more than the weather. Robby and I have had a comfortable, workable schedule for the past five years. All of a sudden our routine has been disrupted, and I am having a difficult time adjusting. I am sure that I have mentioned this before: I don't like change.

Despite the 2.5 hours without Robby everyday, I am finding it impossible to get everything done. My workload has increased and, despite the quiet time everyday, my to-do list is getting longer--not shorter. I just can't find enough time in the day.

I had envisioned quiet mornings sipping coffee while listening to music as I cuddle up in the corner of my sofa and work on my computer. My dream could not be further from reality. Yesterday morning I became so preoccupied sending faxes and answering phone calls that I forgot to put a mug under my Keurig. Coffee poured all over the counter, spilling onto the floor in my bedroom. I then had to spend the remaining of my solitude time (45 minutes) on my hands and knees trying to clean the brown coffee stain out of the white carpet--to no avail.

I always find it difficult adjusting to changes in my routine. Between work responsibilities, homework, and chauffeuring a five year old to and from school, my days are evaporating and I feel as if I have little to show for my efforts. I'm spinning on a hamster wheel, desperately trying to keep up but never getting anywhere. Of course, the dreary weather certainly has not helped to uplift my mood!

I'm hoping that over the next few weeks a new schedule will naturally emerge. In the meantime, I am going to forgive myself for the messy house, coffee stained carpet, and piled laundry. After all, I am sure that all of those chores will be waiting when I can finally find the time. Of course, if the sun ever decides to peek out the housework will have to wait even longer!

Disability, But Not Disabled.

2011-09-28T04:50:00.000-04:00

Every morning before taking Robby to school, I find myself fretting about our outfits. I strive to make sure that he is wearing unstained clothes (a requirement which severely limits his wardrobe) while I try to find pants that conceal my prosthetic. I'm not ashamed of being an amputee, but it is important to me that Robby's peers get to know him on his own merits, not as the child of a robot Mommy.

Yesterday morning was especially hectic. Robby slept in--a habit that astounds me. He has been up at the crack of dawn every day for the past five years. The moment he enrolls in school he starts to sleep past 6:00. Still sound asleep at 8:10, I knew I had no option but to wake him up. He apparently does not appreciate being woken up!

I suppose that my forgetting was inevitable, but I have to admit that I am surprised by how quickly it occurred. Scurrying around, trying to get him dressed and fed, I completely forgot to worry about my outfit. For the first time, my prosthetic was fully exposed when I dropped Robby off at school.

It didn't occur to me that my leg was showing as I walked him into school. It wasn't until I opened the classroom door and a little girl leapt off the circle time carpet to get a closer look did I realize that I was making my prosthetic debut. Had I known my leg was going to be taking a starring role, I would have put on a clean sock!

I spent the next ten minutes trying to get Robby situated and leave the classroom. My hopes of exiting without disturbing the lesson were destroyed as I was bombarded with questions from his little classmates, all of whom were nothing short of fascinated. Robby, of course, remained oblivious about the attention my leg was garnering. In an uninterested manner, he simply responded to his little friends inquiries by saying, "Oh Momom doesn't have a fake leg; she's just wearing her Proprio today."

On Friday I will be talking with Robby's classmates about my amputation and prosthetic. After speaking with his teacher, we've agreed that it is best to answer all of their questions at one time so that this isn't a constant distraction. I am excited about this opportunity, but I have no doubt that Robby will be bored during my lesson.

I love that my prosthetic use is simply a mundane reality for my little boy. Prosthetics, bad leg days and socket issues are as openly discussed around our dinner table as the news and gossip from work. He doesn't seem to realize that his mom is viewed as disabled by the majority of the public. He knows that his Momom is always ready to kick a soccer ball, play tag or go sledding. Although I have a disability, Robby realizes that I am anything but disabled.Hopefully his classmates will feel the same way after our talk on Friday!

Good Karma

2011-09-27T04:48:00.000-04:00

About six weeks ago during our monthly pilgrimage to Five Guys for burgers and fries, I asked Scott to stop the car and pull over. In the middle of a busy intersection I spotted a camera. Obviously the camera had not been there long because, with the traffic whizzing by and the sun beginning to set, it was a matter of moments before it would have been run over and destroyed.

I ran out of the car and darted into the intersection to retrieve the camera. The only damage seemed to be in one corner where it had fallen onto the asphalt. I could only assume that we were the first car to come upon the lost camera. Lacking any identification I turned it on. I have to admit that I was a little worried viewing somebody's photos and videos! Hoping that what I was about to view was not pornographic, I pressed play.

I watched three videos of a happy family singing happy birthday and another two showing what appeared to be a middle school volleyball game. I tried to identify the school but we couldn't figure it out. I was beginning to feel discouraged but, channeling my inner Mr. Monk, I decided to watch the last video. Finally, the last video of a little boy in a karate class began to play. Zooming in I was able to identify the name of the karate studio on the back of the uniform. We had our first clue!

At home I Googled the karate school and found two locations. The next morning I grabbed the camera and drove to the school that was closest to where we found the camera. I had an instructor view the video and, after pausing the frame on the little boy's face, he was able to identify the child.

Thrilled that we had located the rightful owners, I left my contact information and took the camera home. For some reason I simply didn't feel comfortable leaving the expensive electronic with somebody else because I felt like I had a responsibility to turn it over directly to the rightful owners. I placed the camera on top of my microwave in the corner of my kitchen and waited for the call.

Apparently the karate instructor did not view contacting the family as a priority. They didn't receive my message that I had found their camera until yesterday! I had nearly given up on returning it and was beginning to ponder simply dropping it off at the school and hoping for the best.

The owner was thrilled when we spoke yesterday. As I suspected, she had placed camera on her back bumper and had driven away. She told me how she had retraced her route, posted flyers and put out an ad on Craigslist all in an attempt to locate the camera. She wasn't concerned about the device but was upset about the loss of all of the videos and photos. She remarked that her husband had given up looking but that she persevered, maintaining that sometimes people do the right thing and that it might be returned.

As it turns out, last year she was in a similar circumstance to me. She explained that she had found a diamond engagement ring in the dressing room of a store. Uneasy about leaving it with mall security, she left a description and her contact information.

In the meantime she visited local jewelery stores asking if the piece could be identified. At the final store she was delighted when the jeweler recognized the workmanship and contacted his client. Because of the time she took, the ring was returned to the happy bride.

Robby and I had a good time playing detective. We formulated a plan and looked for clues. Not only did I sincerely want the camera to be returned, I felt that it was a good lesson for him. Too many people don't take the time to do the right thing and to go the extra steps to help a stranger.

Hearing the camera owner tell the story of the found engagement ring, I can't help but think how the situation has gone full circle. She found something treasured and actively sought the owner. To her husband's surprise, we located her camera and returned the favor. I think that good karma has been established.

Stones

2011-09-26T04:37:00.000-04:00

Last year at this time my life seemed to revolve around Robby's bathroom habits-- or more specifically his lack of toilet use. This year I find my conversation again revolving around all things bathroom related, only this time the subject is different: I've been dealing with kidney stones which have been making me miserable!

I was diagnosed with the pesky little pebbles about two weeks ago. Since then, it seems that every conversation somehow involves my urinary tract. Is there still blood, have I passed more stones and my favorite inquiry comes from Scott, "How is everything flowing down there?" I appreciate the concern but I am frustrated that my conversations still revolve around toilet activities!

I thought that I had passed my last stone before my Las Vegas trip. Because of my commitments in the exhibition booth, I fully admit that I did not consume enough water last week. My self-imposed dehydration has apparently obstructed the passing of the the remaining stones, so the past few days I have been miserable.

My problems resurfaced during the long flight home on Thursday night. I began to feel severe back pain. The discomfort, combined with a near constant urge to urinate combined, made for a torturous flight home. Of course, the sudden onset of what I can only suspect to be food poisoning did not help my situation. By the time I finally arrived home (at 2 am) I was exhausted and sick.

I spent most of the weekend drinking water and trying to flush those little stones out of my system. I found myself sleeping in my liner out of convenience because I was constantly getting up to use the bathroom. It is during those moments that I find myself cursing my amputation- I wish I could just get up and go like my bi-legged friends.

Although I am physically recovered from the food poisoning, I am fairly confident that I will never eat another mozzarella and basil sandwich. I'm feeling better, but I am still worried. My doctor is going to check me today, and if my stones aren't gone, I will be hospitalized. Not only do I want to avoid a hospitalization and surgery, I am really tired of discussing the bathroom. Here's hoping that I flushed those little rocks away!

2011-09-24T21:33:00.004-04:00

This picture just makes me smile... Someday I hope Robby will realize how much I love him!

And thanks Dave, for everything you've done to help me and for giving me away!

Boot Sale...

2011-09-23T04:56:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I think it is strange how my amputation has impacted various aspects of my life. I knew that it would affect me physically, psychologically, and socially. I had no idea how much my limb loss would affect my fashion decisions.

I have never been a Fashionista. If a garment is pretty and doesn't make me look fat, I am satisfied. If it is on sale, I often overlook the "pretty" requirement.

Shoe shopping has been especially challenging since my amputation, and I know that I will soon need a pair of winter boots. My little guy turns into a snow bunny and can play in his winter wonderland for hours at a time! While he is snug and warm, the snow becomes packed between my sneaker and my sock. I am cold and uncomfortable within 15 minutes.

I have searched for a solution to my boot dilemma. Because of my prosthetic. it is difficult for me to slip my foot into a boot. I require a large opening in order for the foot shell to slip inside, and because I don't have ankle movement, I need the opening to extend to the bottom of the boot so that the angles are minimized. The boot material must come up over my Proprio ankle, but must not be form fitted. The ankle moves and cannot be contained.

With all of these requirements, I gave up on the boot being cute. I was willing to settle for anything that would work, regardless of its visual appeal. When I found a pair of boots with a large opening, the ankles were too severe to allow my foot to slide in. We looked into a pair of goulashes, but they were too heavy. The weight of the material would have caused my leg to lose suction. That would not be a good thing when sledding!

I had all but given up and accepted my chilly foot fate. Every search left me feeling deflated and frustrated. It is strange how one small failing, such as not being able to find a pair of boots, can amplify every negative feeling I have about being an amputee. I was close to giving up.

I suppose that the adage "it always comes when you aren't looking" is true for more than finding a soul mate. It also applies to finding the perfect boot! Not only do the boots possess every attribute necessary, they are cute. And the best part? They were on sale! I will be ready for winter!