Snow Walk

I have learned that I am no longer afforded the luxury of staying inside after a large snowfall. The past few days, while I was wishing I was curled in my comfy rocker and covered with a warm quilt, I was outside playing. I was envious of my Mom who was watching and laughing from her window.

I have learned how to "dress" my prosthetic for snow fun. I discovered that placing an activated hand warmer in the socket helps to keep my stump from becoming too cold. (Cold stumps are prone to cramping which is never a good thing.) With the addition of a boot, my swim leg is transformed into my snow leg. I don't have to worry about the ankle rusting or freezing up, so I no longer have to wrap the prosthetic to protect the components. Sometimes small improvements can be liberating!

After his Nana was appropriately dug out, Robby and I set out up the street to "help" the neighbors. We ran into neighbors up and down the street, many of whom I remember from my childhood. Robby was eager to assist with their snow removal needs, throwing piles of snow over his shoulder as he was happily digging away. We usually ended our visit with more snow piles in the path that had just been cleared, but nobody begrudged the help from my eager little snow shoveler!

Although I was tired, I was pleased that my leg was holding up well under the snowy challenge. My limb wasn't cold, and my socket was instantly more comfortable after I removed the gloves that were hiding inside. My amputation was not impeding our snow fun. I was just another bundled up parent, playing with her child.

Robby stopped to help a neighbor that I vividly remember from my childhood. This family had three boys, all close in age to myself and my siblings. Their Mom used to call and "report" any issues that their child encountered when playing with the other neighborhood kids. My Mom used to get a LOT of phone calls from this lady. Apparently she didn't realize that the more she called and ratted us out, the more we wanted to torment her children!

After exchanging awkward pleasantries and catching up on the families jobs/families/locations, I was anxious to keep walking. Robby had a different idea. He had discovered a "super super super big pile of snow" that he was convinced needed to be moved. He set to work. I was left making more small talk with the chatty, tattling neighbor from my past.

I filled him in on where I live and my past profession as a teacher. We talked about Robby and Scott. We even talked about my Mom, her retirement and her return from a cruise. The conversation moved to my siblings.

He asked about my brother, and I told him that Jae was doing well. He then paused and asked me about my sister, the "really fat one with one leg." Stunned, I tried to think of a graceful way of exiting the conversation. I just looked at him, smiled and said that he was talking about me.

After an uncomfortable apology and some snow kicking on both sides, I gathered Robby to go home. I managed to convince him that Nana was calling for help because she needed more snow moved from in front of the mailbox. I couldn't help but shake my head on the walk back home. There is a reason that we used to throw corn at his son at the bus stop. There is also a reason that, when I was little, I let my new puppy pee on this neighbors leg. Apparently I was perceptive and good at reading people at a young age!

I enjoyed walking up the street with Robby. I want to foster his desire to help other people, even though the assistance of a three year old isn't always needed! It is important that he learn to reach out to other people and to offer to help. I also liked visiting with neighbors from my childhood. It is amazing how many people still reside on the street!

Snowapalooza

Snowapalooza is here. At least, that is what the February 2010 snowstorm has been named in the DC area. We were warned that we could receive as much as 30 inches of snow. I love the snow, but that sounded like a lot.

Scott went to the store for lunch meat, potato chips and beer: all of the provisions when you are going to be snowbound. He worked for three hours to put the plow on the front of our lawn mower. Firewood was brought inside. He was ready to ride out the storm.

I packed up Robby and headed for Pennsylvania where they were forecast to receive merely 20 inches. With a Pennsylvania grocery store run complete, we were completely stocked with milk, diapers, bread, pizza and chocolate cake. Bring on the snow!

We woke up to a world blanketed in fluffy white. Robby was excited and eager to go outside to play. With the help of my Mom, Robby and I dressed in our winter garb and headed outside. We couldn't find Robby's gloves, but luckily we had a spare pair. Much to his chagrin, he finally agreed to wear the mittens.

My snow leg (coincidentally the same prosthesis acts as my swim leg in the summer) was snug and uncomfortable, but I figured that there was nothing that could be done. I was going to have to live with it. After all, there was snow to be shoveled and snowballs to be thrown.

The snow was nearly as tall as Robby. He just kept saying, "Super super super big snow." He had a blast "helping" me shovel. He even joined me in singing "I am Woman" as I was heaving the heavy snow over my shoulder. I was proud of my strength, contemplating that this one-legged woman was shoveling through 23 inches.

After over an hour of shoveling and snow fun, Robby was ready to come inside. We wanted to warm up and eat cookie dough before going back outside. I was happy to grant this request as my leg was aching and becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

Ushered immediately into the laundry room by my mom, I began to strip the layers off Robby. Piles of snow were falling around him as his snowsuit, boots, gloves and coat were removed. I shoved his wet clothes into the dryer and began to take off my snow clothes.

I slipped off my snow leg in order to take off my snow pants. Finally I felt relief from my super tight and uncomfortable socket. I was amazed at how uncomfortable my leg had become in just a few short weeks since the last snow. I am not sure what prompted me, but I reached inside the socket.

I found Robby's lost gloves.

Apparently I had pushed them into my snow/swim leg when I was packing for our trip. I was in such a hurry to go outside that I didn't look inside my socket before putting on my snow leg. The moral to this story: look inside your socket if your leg is suddenly uncomfortable or if something is missing. You never know what you're might find inside!

"Super Super Super big snow!"

Snow

Robby was so excited for more snow. I think I'm going to have to tie an orange bow to the top of his hat so I don't lose him this afternoon. I'll post more pictures later.
This is the scene from my Mom's sunroom. The snow comes up nearly to the railing on the porch.

Midnight Mayhem

I used to be a sound sleeper. When I was younger, a car literally ran into the side of our house and apparently it caused a lot of commotion. I found out about the incident after I woke up a few hours later.

Since Robby was born I have developed "Mommy ears." I can hear him stirring through two closed doors and over the sounds of the radio and sound machine playing. I am often sitting up in bed and already putting on my leg by the time Scott hears Robby's calls.

Of all of the obstacles presented by my amputation, the increased response time needed to respond to a midnight emergency is the most frustrating. As a Mommy, I want to go running whenever I hear Robby crying for help after a nightmare or when he suddenly becomes sick. Before coming to his aid, I must first put on my liner and leg. I know that it only takes a few moments, but I resent the delay.

Few situations make me feel as "disabled" as when I must first put on my leg before responding to a cry for help. Every time it happens, I wish that I could just pop up and go running, like a "normal" limbed parent. This is not my reality, and I know that it is fact of life that will not change. I hate it!

I have become adept at putting on my leg in the dark. I am sure that, if I were timed, I have my prosthetic on within 10 seconds. I know that, in the scheme of things, 10 seconds is not a lot of time. After all, because of my "Mommy ears" I am often halfway to Robby's room before Scott's sleep is even disturbed by the cries. However, when you're a Mommy and your child is hurting or scared, seconds seems like an eternity.

Monsters have apparently taken up residence in Robby's room. We have employed various monster repellents with minimal success. Despite our efforts, the monsters return and I am forced to fight them off in the wee hours of the morning.

I keep my liner inside out and on top of my prosthetic. I am ready to battle the fierce intruders at a moment's notice. Last night, at about 3 am, I heard the cry for help.

I immediately sat up and slid my liner over my stump. With one swift movement my leg was unplugged and I was stepping into the socket. New liners typically require more time and more downward deliberate pressure within my socket to create an adequate seal. I knew that I had not achieved suction, but there were monsters to fight and the walk was short.

Bam! I walked directly into Robby's ride-on firetruck. The "I Hear a Firetruck" song started blaring. My prosthetic got hung up on the truck and popped off. Unfortunately , I didn't realize it until I tried to take a step. Down I went.

Robby, upon hearing the commotion, came running into the bedroom. Scott woke up to find me on the floor with a concerned toddler towering over me. I was frustrated but unharmed. I immediately instituted a new family rule: All toys must be removed from the pathway between Robby's room and our bed!

A cup of milk and a few sprays of the monster repellent seemed to get rid of the unwanted intruders. I am a little bruised and annoyed. I know that it is a reality that I must put on my leg before going to help Robby. Obviously I need to put a little more time into the process to avoid injury. This being said, I don't have to be happy about it!

I Hate Saying Good-Bye

I have always been more comfortable expressing myself in writing. For some reason I become self-conscious during face to face discussions, and I tend to hold back on my true feelings. I suppose I am always trying to put up a brave face, a pillar-of-strength facade.

I am frustrated with my feelings and emotions right now. I am 35 years old. I am married and I have a child. Logically, I know that my Dad moving back to Texas should not affect me. He needs to return to his wife. The commute between Austin and Virginia has taken its toll on him during the past 9 years. I know that it is time for him to move on, professionally and personally.

I am an independent woman with a family of my own. I love my parents but I am no longer dependent upon them. This being said, I can't help but feel like a little girl who is losing her Daddy.

My parents began living separately when I was eight. They have always maintained a comfortable relationship. My childhood was void of the stereotypical divorced parent conflicts. My father was often present at birthday parties and other celebrations. If there was friction between my mom and dad, I never knew it.

My life has drastically changed during his residence in our basement. I bought my first house, Scott and I began dating and we were married. I struggled through numerous surgeries and agonized with the decision to amputate. I learned to walk again. He witnessed my journey from a patient with a bandaged and blood stump to a happy and active amputee.

I was diagnosed with cancer and survived the treatments. Scott and I bought a house together and my dad moved right along with us. I gave birth to Robby, quit my job and became a stay at home Mommy. I started to write my blog and my book.

Some events, however, are etched in my memory. Neither Scott nor I will ever forget that cold night when my dad received the phone call that a lung was available for Christopher. (Christopher was my stepbrother who was dealing with Cystic Fibrosis.) My Dad began frantically pacing, wringing his hands and unsure of what to do next. In that moment I assumed the care-taking role, making his plane reservations and helping him pack. What a terrifying and wonderful night.

I became the conduit between my dad and the rest of the family during this time. He called me with updates on the transplant surgery as well as information concerning Christopher's recovery. I passed the information to concerned friends and family.

I saw my Dad age greatly during this time as he struggled to stay strong for his wife and son. (Yes, Christopher was technically his stepson, but that was simply a label. For all intent and purposes, Chris was my dad's child.) I witnessed his true heartbreak and pain when Christopher passed away. I was angry when he received criticism the weeks following the funeral. I learned that a daughter never forgets!

During this sad time, I tried to help my Dad. Nothing can ever ease the pain of losing a child, and I can only hope that a supportive ear and an off color joke every once in awhile provided a brief respite from his grief.

I have written about how Robby is going to miss having his Candy Pap-Paw around. I failed to acknowledge how much I am going to miss my dad. He has now lived with me as an adult longer than he did when I was a child.

I am grateful for the time I have spent with him, and I know that our relationship is a gift. Not many parents and children get the opportunity to forge adult relationships with each other. I am proud of my dad's professional and personal accomplishments, but there will be a void in our basement and my heart. I miss him already.

Shape Up Update

I have been trying to figure out why my prosthetic has been so uncomfortable lately. For the past week or so, my stump has been feeling like a sausage stuffed into a casing ready to burst. It is becoming increasingly difficult to put my leg on, and I have had to resort to lubricating the liner.

I am constantly releasing pressure in the socket. Many times throughout the day I have been forced to take off the prosthetic completely, which is always risky with Robby around. When Robby Rotten sees that my leg is off, he often seizes the opportunity of having a head start as he dashes to get into mischief.

Typically a tight socket is my first indication that I have gained a few pounds. After taking a deep breathe and repeating the "Peggy is okay" mantra, I stepped onto the scale. My apprehension was unfounded because I have actually lost four pounds! This is a good thing, but I was still perplexed about the ill-fitting socket.

I was riding the bike this morning while watching Good Morning America when I saw a commercial for Skecher's Shape-Ups. Ah Ha! I figured out why my socket has been feeling so tight.

Skechers designed the shoe to tone not only the buttocks, but also the calf and thigh muscles. I bought the shoe because of the "limp reducing" qualities that I discovered. It never occurred to me that the shoes would actually work to tone my muscles. But my tight socket indicates that the shoes might be beneficial on more than one front for the amputee.

My socket is tighter because my stump is bigger. Because my weight has not increased, I can only assume that the Shape Up shoes have been toning my horribly atrophied calf muscle on my residual limb. The calf muscle is becoming stronger and, consequently, it is becoming larger.

I took off my liner and examined my limb. Yes, it does seem to be a little larger. More impressive, I am able to see some definition within the muscle. I am also able to maintain the muscle contraction beyond the 5 or 6 seconds that has been my norm since my amputation. I can now contract the muscle within my residual limb for 45 seconds before I begin to cramp!

I had given up on strengthening this muscle because it seemed all but impossible. I know the importance of utilizing the muscles in my residual limb in order to equalize my weight bearing between my two legs. Equal weight bearing will help thwart arthritis and knee and hip problems on my sound side. Anything that I can do to avoid further orthopedic problems is a good thing!

Curious, I decided to investigate the effects of my Shape Up shoes on my bum. After digging through our junk drawer, I finally found the tape measure. Optimistic after I discovered my weight loss and my stronger stump, I stripped down and took a measurement. There is now an inch and a quarter less of my rear to love!

I bought the Shape Up shoes because the rocker sole practically eliminates my limp. I discovered that they have been doing more. For me, the shoes are magical. My residual limb muscle is stronger. I have been trying for years to obtain the results that I achieved without even trying, merely by wearing these shoes. And, as a bonus, my bum is smaller.

I know that I sound like a walking advertisement, but I assure you that Skechers doesn't even know that I have blogged about them. I just want to share anything I find that can help an amputee, and these do work for me! I am nothing if not enthusiastic when I find something that makes my life easier.

Elsie, my insurance adjuster, will probably not be singing the praises of these shoes. Because my residual limb is larger and more defined, I am going to need a new socket. The battle continues...