Leprechaun Magic

I have always loved St. Patrick's Day. Truth be told, I throw myself into just about every holiday. Until I was in the 6th grade, I used to sign my name as "Peggy O'Friedman" on the top of my school papers every March 17th. I wore green from head to toe, and became a down right bully when it came to punching those whose green was not highly visible. My Mom used to always make green mashed potatoes and a pistachio cake for dinner.

Scott has requested that I stop dyeing food. I feel obligated to honor this request since he is such a good sport when it comes to a lot of my whims. He has dressed like an elf for our family Christmas photo and wears bunny ears without complaining every Easter. For a reason which I do not understand, he does not find festively colored food palatable. Instead of green mashed potatoes, I will make green pancakes for breakfast.

My holiday celebration won't end with breakfast. I have been planning a Leprechaun visit for weeks. In an attempt to ready Robby, a Leprechaun visited our house left week. He left a mess in the bedroom during the night, but also left a model plane suspended from the ceiling.

Robby and I have made leprechaun traps in order to catch one of the little troublemakers. We don't want to hurt the little guys, we just want to meet one and ask him to stop causing so much havoc. We opted for small paper boxes, courtesy of our local Five Guys burger stand, held up with a stick. The boxes have been colored green (the leprechaun's favorite color) and have been strategically placed around the house. We even baked the leprechaun's favorite cookie, gooey shamrock drops, to lure the little men into our trap!


Robby is absolutely convinced that we are going to be successful catching a leprechaun. I, however, am not so certain. I have a sneaking suspicion all that will be left in the trap is a pair of miniature Leprechaun wooden shoes, courtesy of my Dutch Aunt!

Although the chances of us catching a leprechaun are minuscule, I am certain that their visit will be well documented throughout the house! The water in the toilets will be green, and Robby's morning milk will probably suffer the same fate. I can hardly wait to see Robby's face when he turns on the kitchen sink to discover that the water is green! (I have been secretly experimenting at night to see if this leprechaun magic is feasible.)

I have spent the last two days cleaning and scrubbing the house, so I am doubtful that the leprechauns will cause too much of a mess. However, I won't be surprised to see a trail of pennies leading to various surprises throughout the house. I am sure that the little rascals will probably end up overturning a chair or two as well.

Robby and I are excited about the impending leprechaun visit. He has mentioned trying to "sneak up and surprise" a leprechaun in the middle of the night. I've tried to explain that, just like Santa Claus, Leprechauns only come when you are asleep. Thankfully, he is only three and believes me completely, and he still believes in magic!

I hope that you have fun trying to catch a Leprechaun today! Don't forget to wear green, or else you risk being punched by an overzealous holiday freak like myself. Happy St. Patrick's Day.

Enough Already!

I started the day energized for a new week. I made a list and was ready to attack the cleaning, determined to make my house shine. I am ending the day fighting back tears and feeling useless and defeated. To say that I have not had a good day would be an understatement.

My recent travel adventures, combined with me being sidelined by a biopsy, have contributed to my lax housekeeping during the past few weeks. I knew that I would feel better if I could get the house clean and organized. Although my leg is still sore, the discomfort that walking presented was manageable. Today, I decided, I was going to scrub, toss, organize and sweep until my house shined!

I spent the morning cleaning the kitchen and the bathroom. I assure you, this was not an easy task. My counters were covered with bags, groceries that haven't been put away. and a seemingly endless stream of papers. It wasn't until I had been cleaning for three hours that I realized I was having more difficulty walking.

Shoot! My Proprio ankle stopped responding, and the foot was stuck pointing down. I was not able to reset the prosthetic, I knew that it was broken. I would need to send it for repair so I called my prosthetist to request a loaner for tomorrow.

I hobbled around the house searching for my back-up leg. I couldn't find it, and then I remembered that it was in the back of Scott's car. It certainly wasn't going to help me there! I put on the only leg that I had, which is my swim leg.

My swim foot is designed to turn into a flipper in the water. It is wonderful for swimming and playing in the water with Robby. I also use the prosthetic in the snow with Robby because it is completely waterproof. It is not, however, a good leg for walking around the house.

I was determined to clean, and although frustrated, I was not going to be deterred by a broken prosthetic. I slipped into my swim leg, took it out of "flipper mode" and continued cleaning. I am nothing if not determined when I set my mind to something!

The socket was tight and uncomfortable, forcing me to stop every few minutes to release pressure in the valve. I was walking with a noticeable limp because of a height difference, which has caused my back and hip to ache. Cleaning, which should have only taken another two hours, took nearly four. I am still not finished, although I can honestly walk no more so it will have to wait for another day.

My Prosthetist returned my call when I was cleaning. It is never good when somebody's first words to you are, "Do you have a lawyer?" Yep, Elsie is at it again!

Elsie, my pet name for my Workman's Compensation insurance adjuster, has denied my request for a new leg. I have learned that because I've lost over 100 pounds, I now require a new category foot. I have not received a new prosthetic in 3 years, which is beyond the life expectancy of a heavily used device. My request is not unreasonable.

I was provided with the opportunity to walk on the correct category while working in Chicago. The difference was remarkable! It was like going from walking on a brick to walking on a soft cloud.

Not only has Elsie slashed my hopes of receiving an appropriate prosthetic, she has not paid my prosthetist for the liners I received last month. She approved the liners, at which time he provided them to me. He has finally received a verbal refusal to pay the bill, stating that she "was refusing compensation for the medical devices."

My frustration with dealing with this insurance adjuster is at a breaking point. I have been stymied by her, forced to undergo unwarranted medical evaluations and tests. I have had "simple" prosthetic care denied, forcing me to wear liners which have both exceeded their life expectancy and have become a breeding ground for possible infection. Now she is denying a prosthetic, but has failed to provide a reason.

I am not a litigious person, but I phoned the attorney. He will call Elsie, and hopefully the situation will be rectified. I am lucky that I count him as a supporter. The fact remains, I should not have to call an attorney. I am not asking for anything unusual or extraordinary. I simply want to walk.

I did not ask to be injured. None of us wanted to become an amputee. The fact remains, we are dealing with the loss of a limb. In addition to maneuvering through life on a prosthetic device, I must also fight Elsie at every opportunity. I have said it before, but it continues to be true. I am much more disabled by the insurance company than I am by my limb loss.

My cleaning has caused Robby's behavior to be less than ideal. Not having my full attention, he proceeded to misbehave and be demanding all day. He sneaked the ice cream out of the freezer. I found him hiding under the covers in my bedroom, with his fist in the container and covered in the sticky melted goo. He decided to "decorate" the hallway with stickers and spray down the kitchen floor with the sink attachment. I know that a parent should never refer to their child as a brat. I am looking for a more socially acceptable synonym.

Tonight, I am tired and angry. Physically I am hurting because of cleaning all day on a swim leg. My back and hip hurt. My stump is angry and the nerves are firing. I am sure that sleep will allude me this evening.

Tonight, I am mad that my insurance adjuster seems to be a heartless bitch. I am mad that I am an amputee. I hate that I have to deal with all of this extraneous stuff when I simply want the tools necessary to walk. I am frustrated by the antics of Robby Rotten. Tonight, I feel defeated and alone.

On the positive side, if you exclude the bedrooms, the house is spotless! Now that I have my spare leg out of Scott's car, I will finish the bedrooms tomorrow. I am also feeling a sense of satisfaction in my believe that there is a special ring in hell waiting for Elsie.

Handy Woman!

I love our house. However, sometimes I hate being a homeowner. This weekend was one of those occasions.

We noticed a water mark on our ceiling downstairs, and a quick inspection showed a leaky pipe coming from the bathtub upstairs. The water was dripping slowly. It wasn't enough water to cause a flood or to ruin furniture, but it was enough to make the ceiling stain. Regardless of the amount, the water was dripping and it needed to be fixed.

I love my husband. He has many wonderful qualities. He is a kind and loving father and husband, but his willingness to complete home repairs is not one of his positive attributes.

I have never met Scott's dad, but I have heard that he was very good with home repairs. He built the deck on his own house, and maintained the family car. He completed numerous small repairs around the house. Scott did not inherit the "fix it" gene.

It probably isn't fair for me to indicate that Scott is not good at home repairs. He rarely attempts a repair, so it is nearly impossible for me to know if he has the skills and know how to complete a job.

When something is broken around the house, he responds with a curt, "I don't know what to do" and simply walks away. He has this uncanny ability to ignore water dripping, sinks not draining or showers backing up. He will notice that it is broken but shows no desire in making an attempt to rectify the situation.

I don't understand this laid back philosophy towards home maintenance. I was raised by a single Mom who was raising three children on a teachers salary. I learned early, through her example, that repairmen are costly and should only be called as a last resort. There is no shame in not being able to fix something, but there was an expectation that an attempt always be made. Scott had the benefit of being raised by a man who was, by all accounts, handy. Yet, he shows no desire in trying to make household repair.

Scott's solution to the dripping water was that I should simply stop using the bathtub. He then proceeded to set himself for an afternoon of watching auto racing and hockey. I was left to rectify the leak.

The advent of the Internet has made household repairs easier for the lay person. I Googled "leaking pipe in ceiling" and initially found a video demonstrating three simple fixes. I jotted down the list of what I needed and headed to Lowes.

When I entered Lowes I was greeted by an associate who asked if I needed assistance. I smiled and handed the man my list. He laughed and said that the epoxy putty and the tape were easy to locate, but he couldn't help me with the third. Apparently even Lowes doesn't have a "husband who would at least attempt a home repair instead of being comfortable letting his one legged wife struggle up and down ladders doing it herself."

I came home immediately went into handy-woman mode. I crawled up on top of the piano so that I could reach the leak. Robby was an excellent helper and handed me the materials when I asked for them. After several minutes of uncomfortable contortion, I managed to put the putty around the leak to seal it.

After making sure that the repair was going to hold, I worked my way off the piano. I don't like heights, and my discomfort has only increased since my amputation. Therefore, it took me several minutes to dismount. Robby and I were both proud of our accomplishment. I have mastered another plumbing skill, although I have to admit that I wish I didn't have to! Maybe I will marry a plumber in my next life. At least Scott is appreciative of both my efforts and the fact that I didn't wake him when he was napping on the couch!

I woke up this morning and, keeping with my routine, grabbed a cup of coffee and my laptop. I was surprised to find a comment under the "One Angry Leg" post. Typically there is not a lot of activity on my blog over the weekend.

I read it and was disgusted. Sombody left an x-rated comment under a seemingly benign post. Definitely NOT words I wanted to read first thing in the morning. I have never changed a comment before today. However, this morning I did delete the comment.

One Angry Leg

Well, it looks like March is presenting me with a Lion day tomorrow. The forecast is calling for torrential rains with a total of two to three inches. I think my special animal park day will be postponed.

I certainly didn't need to watch the 6:00 news to know that it was going to rain. My stump has been aching all day. I started the day with my leg being sore, but my ability to get around wasn't affected. Robby and I even went to House of Bounce for the afternoon.

Ninety minutes of running around inside a MoonBounce, combined with the approaching storm, has caused the initial discomfort from this morning to morph into full blown pain. Scott noted my significant limp this evening and I kept my movements to a minimum. The nerves in my leg are angry!

I hate being an amputee on nights like this. The simple task of walking to the bathroom is painful. I actually find myself debating about whether or not walking somewhere is worth it. I even let Robby take a 45 minute bath tonight just so I didn't have to chase him around the house. My poor little prune skinned boy!

I am hoping that resting tonight will help alleviate the pain in my leg. My leg is off and I have no plans of putting it back on. Unfortunately, I suspect that the pain will continue to linger until the weather changes completely.

Robby will still have a special day tomorrow. Only instead of running around the animal park chasing his beloved goat friends, we will be curled up in bed watching "The Rescuers" while eating popcorn all day. Right now, that seems like the perfect alternative on a rainy Saturday.

Hoping for a Lamb

Every March when I was in elementary school our desks had either a lion or a lamb picture on front. Although we were allowed to choose our animal, it typically broke down among gender lines with lambs on the girls' desks and lions for the boys. The saying that March comes "in like a lion and out like a lamb" could not be a more apt description. The middle of the month, however, is typically wrought with wild weather fluctuations.

I know it may not last more than a day or two, but spring definitely feels as if it has arrived. The tulips are beginning to poke through the dirt. The squirrels are bouncing around the yard, seemingly doing surveillance work so that they will be able to quickly bite the blooms off the tulips as soon as they open.

Robby and I have been counting down to March 13th since the end of September. This Saturday, barring torrential rain or snow, Robby and I will bundle up and head to one of his favorite places. Tomorrow, the local animal park petting zoo opens. To be honest, I am almost as excited as I was on Christmas Eve!

We have been taking Robby to the zoo since he was born. We have season passes, and we often go a few times a week. During the winter when the zoo is closed, I typically fill the extra time by baking cookies. Unfortunately, the cookies have caught up with both of us, especially my thighs. I am thrilled that we will be outside again!

Robby has been chattering about returning to the park all winter. He has finally stopped crying every time I drive past the closed gates. I felt helpless as the tears streamed down his little cheeks. He was just too young to understand that the park closes during the winter.

After he wakes up tomorrow and finishes his milk and breakfast, I am going to tell him the good news. We are going to the animal park. It's time for him to go and visit his goat friends.

I predict that he will wave to his Daddy as he vaults down the stairs and frantically tries to step into his beloved froggy boots. I'm sure that we will go through several verses of "Old MacRobby Had a Farm" during the short drive to the animal park.

I am just hoping that the weather is leaning more towards the "lamb" side, so that he can play with a real one again! But since it's March, and the weather is unpredictable, I have stocked up on butter and sugar in case my plans fall through and we are forced to occupy our day baking cookies.

This is a picture taken last year at the animal park.

12 Years

Do you know where you were 12 years ago today? I do. It's a day that I'll never forget. While some anniversaries are happy and are anticipated throughout the year, others are more difficult to bear. As the day approaches I know that I have no choice but to try to stay busy and keep the events of the past at bay.

On March 11, 1998, I woke up early in my apartment in Baltimore, MD and drove to Ocean City, MD. I was eager to attend my first professional conference. I felt invincible and excited both about my developing career and my seemingly limitless future. I saw nothing but possibilities and adventure in the world. I never envisioned that an amputation would be in my future.

I was standing in the exhibition hall looking at the rows of vendors eager to talk with me about their products and services. I saw a computer salesman pushing a large monitor on a cart, and I stepped out of his way. In that instant, my life changed.

The monitor was not strapped down on the cart, and the cart became stuck on a transition strip on the floor. He jerked the cart forward, dislodging the monitor. The large computer monitor flew off the cart and the edge landed squarely on the top of my left foot.

To be honest, initially the injury seemed to be relatively minor. I didn't feel any pain at first. I even lifted the monitor off my foot by myself. It wasn't until I lifted up the monitor that I felt pain.

I was taken to an Urgent Care clinic along the boardwalk, commonly referred to as a "doc in a box." X-Rays were taken, and I was put in a cast and given crutches. I was told to rest, to keep the weight off my foot, and that I would be fine in six weeks.

After six weeks, my cast was removed. My foot was distorted and purple. I was told that this was "normal" and that the bruise would dissipate. The discoloration and swelling never faded. Neither did the pain.

The injury on March 11 set me on a path filled with riddled with pain and surgeries. I endured over 20 surgeries in five years in an attempt to ease the pain and to regain my mobility. I was reliant upon crutches to get around, and my life was ruled by my disability. Amputating the limb was the only option left that would alleviate the pain and provide me with the hope of resuming a normal life.

My life was changed simply by standing in the wrong place at the wrong time. I did nothing wrong to cause the injury, yet I have been dealing with the effects of that day for 12 years now. Life can change in an instant.

This anniversary used to fill me with anger. Actually, anger is probably not an apt description. Rage is probably more accurate. I spent a lot of energy thinking about that salesman. I knew that he did not injure me on purpose, yet I was was mad that he was able to walk away from the conference and I continued to suffer. Did he even think about me after that conference? Did he know how severely he injured me? Did he lose sleep because of his mistake? These thoughts used to haunt me.

Over time, my anger has faded into sadness. Every year on the anniversary of my injury I feel sad thinking about everything that I lost. My 20's were filled with nothing but a cycle of surgery and recovery. I was robbed of this carefree age.

Today I can't help but reflect upon the injury and everything that it cost me. I cannot change the events of the past, but I can impact that way that the injury affects my future. I have a better appreciation for my health and for days without pain. I am a stronger person who is no longer afraid to put a voice to my thoughts.

When I woke up 12 years ago I never envisioned that I would be living my life as an amputee. Fate set my life on a new course that I never imagined. The journey, although painful, has been both enlightening and empowering.

I find it ironic that 12 years later, I am again in another hotel room. This time I am not merely attending a conference, but I have been invited to speak. I am now helping others learn about living with an amputation and getting the most out of life despite a limb loss. In a way I have come full circle; it is just a completely different circle.