Anxiety Hearing...

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

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

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...

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...

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

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

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!