Lights.. Camera.. Action!

Yesterday was a whirlwind. Robby, Scott and I woke up early, eager to meet the adventures of the day. After a quick breakfast, and a long time getting ready, we were finally ready to leave for our filming location.

I anticipated the interview lasting an hour. I sat down, took a deep breath and tried to go into "the zone." I thought carefully before responding to the questions to convey my thoughts as honestly and as clearly as possible. I tried to envision that I was talking to a new amputee friend when I spoke.

I was surprised and a tad confused when they wrapped after about 20 minutes.

When they unclasped the microphone, I had a cringe of insecurity as I thought that perhaps my interview was so terrible that it wasn't worth the time to have me continue. When I got out of the chair I was told that I was referred to as "One Take Peggy" because of my ability to answer clearly the first time. My insecurities evaporated.

Robby was fantastic, and I couldn't be prouder. He put powder on his nose and smiled for the cameras. He knew that he was not supposed to look at the cameras when they were following us. He made ignoring the cameras a game and I know that they were able to tape some great footage.

I am so grateful that Scott was able to rearrange his schedule to accompany us. This blog would have a completely different tone if he hadn't been there to entertain and to watch Robby while I was working. He was able to keep Robby both busy and quiet--this is not an easy task.

I was told that this show will air sometime in June or July. I will keep you posted. Hopefully I won't end up on the cutting room floor again!

Discovery Channel Filming

Today is the big day! It still feels surreal that I'm being included in a Discovery Channel show. My story feels so inadequate compared to those whom I have met. Right now I suppose I'm just scared, worried that I'll let everybody down. In reality, I am suffering from nothing more than normal stage fright.

I want to portray amputees in a realistic light. Although our issues are unique, I don't want to participate in a show that simply produces pity. The thought of being part of a sideshow style production makes me shudder.

My goals for this project are to educate and, ultimately, to help. I am hopeful that through demonstrating what it is truly like living with an amputation, new amputees may find comfort and research into remedying many obstacles will increase.

I am so thankful and happy that Scott was able to adjust his work schedule to accompany Robby and me on this adventure. Yesterday we spent the afternoon playing in the hotel pool with Robby. We had a great time laughing and splashing. What a fantastic way to release my jitters!

It is comforting having him close to offer encouragement and an endless supply of hugs. I'm also relieved that he will be able to watch Robby when I am being interviewed. After the antics of Robby Rotten in Tampa, I was apprehensive about taking him 'to work' with me again. Knowing that Robby is well taken care of has taken a huge worry off my mind.

This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I don't want to miss a moment because of my fears. I want to show that amputees, as a population, possess a strength to persevere and to overcome. I don't want to portray us as timid, nervous and meek. I'm going to smile, to communicate effectively and try to make everybody proud. Wish me luck!

Not So Stylish...

During the past 6 weeks I've worked hard and shed nearly 20 pounds so that I can look my best for my interview on the Discovery Channel show. Happier with my figure, I was thrilled that I dropped a pant size! Feeling confident, I knew that only thing left for me to address was my hair. I was in desperate need of a haircut and updated style.

Friday night was spent scouring the Internet, in search of the perfect hairstyle. I wanted something that exuded the "I'm a super hip, sexy hot Mommy" aura. I also knew that the style had to be easy to manage since I have absolutely no talent, and even less patience, when it comes to working with my hair. Finally, after a flurry of Facebook posts and emails, I thought that I found the perfect style.

Saturday morning Scott and Robby dropped me off at the salon. I opted to try a new establishment, which was both cheaper and more convenient. Trying some place new for such an important event was probably not my wisest decision. Unfortunately, hindsight is 20/20.

I met with my new stylist, Ava. She was nice and listened to me as I explained the upcoming television show and my desire to be a hipper, younger looking Mom. I then showed her my pictures, and she agreed that the style would look good.

After the style was decided, Ava continued to brush and examine my hair. She then suggested that I do something to address my "substantial" gray. I was caught off guard, but I agreed. After all, I certainly couldn't be the hip and sexy Mom with gray hair. Before I knew it, my hair was being painted for highlights and a new base color.

Sitting under the dryer, I felt nothing short of ugly with my hair folded into foil and the odoriferous dye saturating my locks. I tried to envision how fabulous I was going to look once the color was rinsed and my new haircut took shape. When that wasn't successful, I grabbed the nearest magazine and tried to pass the time.

Ava must have sensed my vulnerability because she went into salesperson mode. I was offered a manicure, pedicure and a massage. It was suggested that I have my pores minimized through a special salt facial. A mud wrap, I was told, would firm my thighs and backside.

She eventually recommended that I have my eye brows waxed, stating that she "almost dyed one of them because it was so long she thought it was part of my bangs." I declined the offer, even when she indicated that a discount would be provided. I smiled and looked down at my outdated magazine article in which the authors debated the possible designs of Kate Middleton's wedding dress.

Ava left me alone for about 10 minutes, but then approached me again. This time she lifted the dryer and bent down to whisper into my ear. "We have a dermatologist on call, My Dear. Would you like me to give him a call so that you can have a few Botox injections while your color sets? You really need to do something about all those creases; they make you look very very old and sad."

Sitting under the dryer, my scalp itching from the color and foils, I almost cried. I came into the salon for a simple haircut in order to accentuate my features and to celebrate my success losing weight. Instead, I learned that I look like an old lady with gray hair, large pores, bad nails, a jiggly bum, and woolly mammoth eyebrows who is desperately in need of Botox to minimize my wrinkles!

Ava must have sensed that she wasn't going to be scoring additional services because her affect drastically changed after I denied the Botox. She rinsed my hair and began cutting. She seemed angry.

On Saturday, I learned that I should never let a hairstylist cut my hair when they are angry with me! The style is nothing like the picture I presented. Instead of looking hip and sexy, I look as if I have a giant highlighted mushroom on top of my head.

Both my Mom and Scott have assured me that I do not look like a mushroom, but I'm not convinced. I find myself pulling on the ends in a fruitless attempt to make it grow by Tuesday! I'm hoping that I adjust to my new look and can feign confidence for the interview. (I am also fully aware that my distress over my hair could be misplaced anxiety for the interview.)

In the meantime, I bought make-up that promises to both fill in wrinkles and minimize pores. I've plucked my eyebrows, painted my nails and pulled my Spanx body slimmer out of my dresser. My head might look like a giant mushroom, but the rest of me will look good!

Gone Fishing

Between the pain in my stump and my elevated stress level, sleep was practically impossible on Wednesday night. Apparently I was grinding my teeth and flexing my biceps because I had trouble talking and unbending my arms. Needless to say, it was not a pleasant way to wake up!

There was no denying it--I was tired and irritable. I'm afraid to admit that I was not a very good Mommy for the first half of the day. I knew that I was short tempered with Robby and he had done nothing wrong. Knowing that I was not being a good Mom made my mood sour even more!

In order to try to heal my residual limb before my Philadelphia trip, I had promised that I wouldn't ride my bike. I also knew that if I didn't find a way to relieve my stress I was going to implode. I broke my promise, hopped onto the saddle and attempted to pedal my worries away.

I dismounted nearly 90 minutes later. I was covered in sweat and physically exhausted. My leg was a little worse for wear, but riding wasn't as detrimental as I feared. I was happy that I was able to bear full weight through my prosthetic. Walking still hurt, but it wasn't enough for me to keep my leg off.

During my time pedaling I was able to work through a lot of my frustrations. I find something cathartic about the repetition of pedaling. I was a much better Mom in the afternoon!

After I showered and fixed lunch, Robby and I decided to go on an adventure. He made a sign that he swears says "Gone Fishing." I'm fairly sure it is just a bunch of happy faces and his name written a few times. In any case, we hung our "Gone Fishing" sign, grabbed his pole and a jar of maggots (yes, maggots) and headed to the stream.

Robby declared that he was "going to catch a fish if it is the last thing I do." I was warned that he wasn't returning back to the house until he "reeled that sucker in." Considering that the fish in our stream are the size of small goldfish, I knew that we were going to be there for awhile.


Two hours into our fishing trip we received a visitor. Mr. Bill, our neighbor, came down to visit and brought Robby a present. He built Robby a boat. Robby handed me his pole and immediately began to splash around with his "pirate ship." I have the world's best neighbor. Not only did he build Robby a boat, but he actually managed to help Robby catch a fish. My little guy was delighted as he reeled in an anchovy sized fish!

I continued to feel guilty about being snappy with Robby in the morning. I guess moms always feel guilty! Robby, however, seemed to have forgotten the rocky start to the morning. After all, he had a boat and caught a "ginormous fish."

We spent the evening cuddled up on the couch, and I began to count my blessings. I have a wonderful little boy and a husband who, as soon as we unpacked our groceries, willingly drove back to the store because I kept talking about how good the blueberry pie ice cream looked! By the time I tucked Robby into bed he continued to talk about his catching "a fishy as big as a whale." I thoroughly enjoyed my ice cream surprise, and my outlook was improving. Through my stress and worries, I've realized how very lucky and blessed I am.

My Philadelphia Diet

Robby and I have been invited to Philadelphia to participate in a new television show (Health Heroes) for the Discovery Channel. I was initially overwhelmed with the invitation, worried about every aspect of my being on television. Of course, the top of my worry list was my appearance.

Although I have maintained my weight loss fairly well (fluctuating 10 pounds through the winter) I resolved to lose as much weight as possible. After all, if the camera adds 10 pounds, and I am 10 pounds heavier than I would like, my math indicates that I would have been embarrassed. I knew I had to take the situation in hand.

In my typical over-zealous fashion, I immediately stepped up my work-outs, sweating longer and pedaling harder on the bike. Robby and I have been playing outdoors seemingly non-stop. I reason that I'm both being a good Mommy and getting an extra calorie burn during those endless hours of tag and Pirate Fighting in our front yard.

My efforts have not been in vain. Yesterday I put on a pair of shorts that were too tight last summer, and now they are too big! I have lost 17 pounds so far, and I feel great. Well, I almost feel great.

Weight loss for an amputee has a drastic impact on the fit of their prosthetic. My shedding nearly 20 pounds has caused my leg to become too big, thus I am forced to wear socks, increasing the ply throughout the day to soften the rocking of my limb against the socket wall. I hate socks!

My leg hurts whenever I am wearing my prosthetic. It is difficult for me to walk up and down hills because of the pressures within my prosthetic. I am no longer feeling a natural freedom when I walk. Rather, I am forced to calculate the terrain and to consciously minimize the rattling of my stump within the socket walls.

I find myself frustrated that I can't lose weight without having so many aspects of my life affected. With each step I am reminded that I am walking on a prosthetic. I simply don't appreciate the constant reminder!

While I am going to need a new socket, it is going to have to wait. Filming for the show is next week and I don't want to use a test socket during this opportunity. I'll have to be happy with my 17 pounds, three short of my goal, because I have to tone down my exercise for a few days. I am toying with the idea of eating high sodium foods (don't tell my Mom) so that my limb swells and will fit comfortably into the socket.

Despite my socket issues, I'm still thrilled about this opportunity. I am going to do my best to portray amputees in a positive light. I'm no longer overly concerned about my appearance. I may end up on the cutting room floor again, but I'm going to look cute!

Gas Prices and the Grumpies

Yesterday I was not in the best of moods. I was feeling overwhelmed with my "to do" list and worried about my family and friends who are struggling. Simply put, I was feeling like I was drowning in a sea of worry about everything. I hate feeling that way!

In an attempt to shake my bad mood, I packed up Robby to head to the park. I was determined that I was going to leave all my frustrations behind. As I turned on the car and cursed my bad day, the dreaded yellow light was flashing--I was almost out of gas.

I hate getting gas, especially since it is now almost $4.00 a gallon. On the short drive to the gas station, between holding my breath hoping that I won't have to push the car and lamenting the fact that I was going to have to shell out a lot of money for a liquid that I need but don't particularly enjoy, my mood continued to sour. At the risk of pointing out the obvious, gas has become so expensive!

For the first time, we have started to cut down on the amount of driving that we do. Scott will stop for groceries on the way home from work so that we don't drive later. I haven't been visiting my Mom as often because it now costs about $50 in gas. We have begun calculating fuel costs into every decision. In reality, we probably should have been doing this for years, but rising gas prices have made reducing use a priority.

Still suffering from a bad case of the "grumpies," I pulled up to the pump and prepared for my financial purging. After few minutes my car was full and my wallet was lighter. I crammed the crumbled receipt into the console of my car and turned the car back on. Pulling away from the station, I told Robby that gas now cost an arm and a leg.

A few moments later, Robby looked up from his Leapster and very sweetly said, "Well Momom, if it is going to cost an arm and a leg it's a good thing that we have lots of legs at home." In a moment, Robby's innocent observation changed my mood. My "grumpies" evaporated as I began to chuckle about his comment. He has such a wonderfully unique perspective on the world!

Chance Encounter

Perhaps the greatest gift of my becoming an amputee lies with the people whom I have met. I must have an "I'm approachable" aura because perfect strangers feel comfortable sharing personal revelations at unexpected times. This past weekend I met an elderly gentleman. Although we only spoke for a few minutes, I know that I will never forget this man.

I was at a buffet style restaurant with Robby, my mom and my sister and her family. As soon as one child's plate was prepared, I was being begged by another to go get more food. With the constant up and down, I didn't have an opportunity to sit down and eat.

While filling my niece's plate, an elderly gentleman approached me and inquired about my leg. He revealed that he was a retired Marine field medic and he thought that perhaps my amputation was the result of a war injury. I have been approached with this question so many times that my answer has become rote. I explained that I was not in the military and provided a brief synopsis of the cause of my amputation. I thanked him for his service to our country before walking away.

On my next trip up to buffet, this time with my oldest nephew, this man came back up to me. This time he told me that I was "ravishingly beautiful" and suggested that I try out for Miss America. He proclaimed that I could be the "first one-legged Miss America." I liked this man, thick glasses and all! I thanked him for his compliment, gave him a hug and continued to pile noodles onto Jacob's plate.

Upon returning Jacob and his food to our table, Robby was ready to browse the trough. Again, this man came over to talk to me. I glanced at his wife, thinking that she might be annoyed by the attention he seemed to be showering on me. Instead she was smiling.

The man apologized for bothering me, but explained that he felt compelled to talk to me. He continued to explain that he was a field medic during "the war" and that he was forced to amputate a fellow Marine's leg. He grabbed my arm and his eyes began to well with tears as he continued to tell his story.

The Marine's leg had been severely injured by shrapnel. He explained that he was working with minimal supplies, and that time was rushed. He doubted that the man would be able to keep the limb, and he worried about an infection setting in if he tried to salvage what was left. The elderly man's voice quivered as he told me that he amputated the limb.

This sweet man has been dealing with the guilt of the decision he was forced to make decades ago on battlefield. He revealed that he has nightmares about that Marine, wondering if he made the correct decision. In an almost pleading and apologetic tone, he told me that he didn't know what else he could have done.

I sent Robby back the table with his plate overflowing with assorted carbohydrates and continued to listen to this man's story. He proceeded to explain the injury and the details of that situation.

In an unexpected twist, the man looked in my eyes and thanked me. He revealed that he always wondered about that Marine, and if he was doing okay or if he was angry about what he had done. He said that he saw me walking around and keeping up with the "little ones" while wearing a "fake leg" and those memories came flooding back.

He saw how effortlessly I was walking and getting around and he knew that the Marine whose amputation has been haunting him is fine. Seeing me, he realized that Marines are tough and that if this "beautiful young woman" is doing well with one leg, so is that man. He hugged me one last time before sitting down with his wife.

I had gone to the restaurant to watch the kids have a glutenous good time. I ended up meeting an amazing elderly man who carried a heartbreaking guilt. For some reason, he felt a sense of peace after seeing how comfortable I am walking with my prosthetic. I am so glad that this kind Marine took the time to tell me his story. I am humbled if I contributed to his finding peace after all of these years. I have to admit that I was walking a little taller after this encounter!