Phonic Fun

Although he still laments going to school each morning, there is little doubt that Robby is thriving. Each afternoon when I pick him up he is smiling and busy working with a classmate. I have been told to "sit tight and hang out" on more than one occasion as he finishes an activity or a conversation with a friend.

I love picking him up not only because I miss him during the day but also because I enjoy hearing him recount everything he learned. Unlike last year, he is a chatterbox during the drive home.  I am amazed at the amount of information he absorbs in a few hours!

Ever since his teacher introduced phonics, Robby has taken word dissection to a whole new level. While I love how much he is learning, having him try to spell every single word that is spoken is becoming a tad- well- dare I admit annoying?  Every conversation takes three times as long as he tries to identify the letters in every word.  Sometimes I wish he would just answer a question without having to go through what Scott and I now dub the "phonics dance."

Last night I asked Robby to put the oven mitt on the table. He responded by saying, "Okay Momom. But first, let's spell table. T..t...t... table. The first letter of table is T. The next letter is Tae...tae... tae... the second letter of table is an a. Ta..ble... ta..ble... ta..ble...  I hear a b and an l. Table is spelled tabl. Is that right?" 

After explaining about the silent e, and agreeing that he can be a "pesky little bugger" Robby finally put the oven mitt on the table. Typically I wouldn't have minded the time for the impromptu lesson because I know that he is learning. However, I was holding a 425 degree crock of macaroni and cheese at the time and really just wanted to put it on the oven mitt on the t..a..ble!  I guess I should be glad I didn't tell him to put it on the credenza. We could still be waiting.

Sleepwalker

Although it has only occurred a handful of times in my life during times of stress or fatigue, I have been known to sleepwalk. Normally I wander through the house always searching for my shoes until somebody finds me and tells me to go back to bed. I understand that I am compliant with the directive. and when I wake up the next morning I am confused with a vague recollection of my nighttime jaunt.

My sleepwalking incidents are so infrequent that my last one was more than 10 years ago. I had all but forgotten about my nighttime excursions until Sunday night when I had the misfortune of experiencing my first sleepwalking adventure since becoming an amputee. 

Needless to say, but it bears repeating, I am not an amputee when I dream. When I am asleep I am transformed into a beautiful woman twenty pounds thinner, ten years younger and completely bi-legged.  Socket and prosthetic issues along with the other frustrations of being an amputee are kept in my waking reality and are not welcome in dreamland.

Sunday night I went to bed fretting about a variety of issues. Despite being exhausted, I had a difficult time falling asleep. Eventually I must have drifted off because I remember sitting at the edge of the bed and muttering that I wanted to get my boots. In retrospect this declaration was odd considering that I don't own a pair of boots!

Logic never intervened and I was determined to get my non-existent boots. Unfortunately, I failed to remember that I was missing a leg. One step into my boot quest and THUD! Trust me, nothing will wake me up faster than falling straight down in the middle of the night!

After the shocking pain wore off, it took me a few moments to figure out why I was on the floor. I crawled back into bed and eventually fell asleep. I woke up the next morning sore from sleep-falling and a little embarrassed by the mishap. I'm nursing an uncomfortable shoulder and some bruises, but I am no worse for the wear. Except, of course, for my pride.

Circus!

Saturday I surprised Robby with a trip to the  Big Apple Circus,  a small production that doesn't feature bears wearing a tutu or sad looking lions. We took Robby to a larger circus several years ago and, after seeing the pathetic looking bear peddle a tricycle, I swore we would never go again. However, I jumped at the opportunity to go to this show because I knew that the only animals were a few horses, house cats, and dogs.
One wouldn't think it would be difficult to find a circus tent in the parking lot of a mall. However, I can promise that it isn't as easy as it sounds. Robby and I drove for 35 minutes, nearly the entire circumference of the mall, before spotting the Big Top tent. Apparently had I turned left instead of right when I first entered the complex, as directed by the sign I didn't see, I would have saved 34 minutes of driving!

Delighted finally to be in the tent and relieved that we didn't miss the beginning of the show, Robby proudly handed the usher our tickets. The gentleman took one look at me, walked away to talk with another usher and then returned. I was worried that there was a problem with our tickets (especially since I bought them off the Internet) and becoming frustrated by yet another delay. Although I can't say for certain because of the language barrier, his pointing to my leg and patting me on the shoulder made me think that I was benefiting from an unspoken amputee courtesy.  Never one to turn down a better experience, I smiled, thanked the man and took our new seats. We were seated two rows back from ringside despite our tickets that clearly stated we should be two levels up.

To say that Robby enjoyed the circus would be an understatement. He was in absolute awe by the performers and their "totally amazing and epic" feats. He was particularly mesmerized by the acrobats, providing a running commentary of his fears as the men flew, spun and twisted through the air. Hiding his eyes but peeking through his fingers, he had a huge smile on his face throughout the act.

He was amazed by the acrobats, but came away inspired by the house cats doing tricks. He chattered away throughout intermission about his need for a hoop and a stool.  He was disappointed but eventually accepted the explanation that he cannot have a fire hoop because he has to be 16 years old. Undeterred by his cat training mission, Poor Charlie Cat has begrudgingly been pushed through a hula hoop by ring master Robby ever since we got home!

I am not sure why I was afforded better seats because of my prosthetic use, but I am grateful for the perk. The ringside view allowed Robby to become fully engrossed with the performance, something which would have been more difficult from the seats I purchased. I wasn't expecting to be upgraded, but we are happy the way it worked out. (Of course, Charlie Cat might have a different view on the matter!)

Separation Anxiety

Each morning, nearly as soon as he wakes up, Robby begins complaining and fretting about school. By the time he is getting dressed, he is fighting back tears. During the drive to school I am berated with the looping chorus of, "I really don't want to go to school. I'm going to miss you. I want to stay home." He clings tightly to me and cries when we walk into the classroom.  Needless to say, I am at my wits end and I'm not sure how to proceed!

Going to school is, of course, not optional. He has to go regardless of the pleas to stay home and the tears streaming down his little cheeks. I just wish that he would handle the transition with more grace.

I would be more concerned about the classroom if each of my drop-in visits hadn't revealed my little boy happily playing with his classmates. His teacher reports that he is both popular and doing well with his work. Robby is full of stories and all smiles each afternoon when I pick him up, even remarking that school was fun and claiming to be excited about going back the next day. Of course, by the time we are getting ready for another school day, the tears and drama return.

Robby's issue is not with school but lies with his separating from me. I love that he enjoys spending time with me, but I am beginning to wonder if his attachment is becoming detrimental. I thought I was doing the best thing for him by keeping him home instead of enrolling him in daycare. Now I feel guilty, thinking that I damaged him.

I knew that the transition to full day school would be hard, but I never expected his adjustment to be this difficult. I keep telling myself that it will get better, and hoping that one morning he will simply forget to cry when I drop him off. In the meantime I will continue to downplay our goodbyes and focus on the positive things that he likes about school, like his two recesses, the engineer table, and snack time.

Leg Talk

Twice a day I am inundated with questions about my prosthetic. Each morning and again in the afternoon, Robby's classmates surround and pepper me with observations and questions. After the Pirate Party was derailed when the students were more interested in my foot than the cupcakes I brought, it became obvious that the time was ripe for a prosthetic show and tell.

Robby's teacher is wonderful and seemed relieved when I offered to come in and discuss my leg with the class. In retrospect, she has probably been trying to figure out a politically correct way to ask. I would have offered sooner, but I didn't want to impose.

This morning I'll be returning to classroom teaching! Robby is excited about having me come and spend time in his room. When I told him that I'll be talking with his friends about my leg, he informed me that it was "boring." He suggested I talk about something "really super cool, like how to catch a blue gill at the Animal Park." In his eyes, apparently a fish trumps a prosthetic.

I suspect that his friends will be more impressed with my prosthetic as Robby has been living with my various legs his entire life. For him, having multiple legs around the house is the norm!

I must admit that I'm looking forward to talking with his classmates. I even dug through the back of my closet and uncovered my first prosthetic. I'm going to leave it at school so that the kids can explore and play with it. I'm hoping that my talking as well as  leaving a leg behind will help quell some of the curiosity. While I like talking with his friends, I'd like to move the topic to something beyond my amputation.

A Sleepy Pirate

This was not an easy morning to get out moving. Between the steady cold rain we experienced yesterday and my deciding to "give running on the treadmill a whirl," my leg was been angry by the time I crawled into bed. Sleep last night was nearly impossible due to the relentless nerve stinging, which in turn caused my leg to kick uncontrollably.

After two hours it became clear that I was destined for a long night. Because of my Rockette performance, I moved to the living room so I wouldn't disturb Scott. While moving allowed my husband to sleep, it did nothing to help my cause. I spent most of the night not-so-silently cursing my amputation while watching infomercials touting work-out programs and mineral make-up.

Last night was the first time in months that I have lost sleep due to phantom nerve pain. The Kinesio tape has been working wonders to keep the angry little nerves in check. I suspect that the impact of my running the treadmill was simply too much for the pretty blue tape to handle. Ticked off nerves became another reason for me to avoid running.

At three in the morning, with my leg kicking wildly, it was difficult to remember that I am actually lucky. So many of my amputee friends wage war against phantom pain on a regular basis. I can't imagine living with that misery. Considering that I only experience a handful of sleepless nights a year, I shouldn't complain.

Of course, right now I am complaining. I'm tired and my body is sore. I have meetings scheduled throughout the afternoon, thwarting any dream of taking a nap. I'm going to be keeping my coffee pot within arms reach in order to get through the day.

On top of my meetings, I've promised Robby that I would host a party at school this afternoon. After all, today is "International Talk Like a Pirate Day." The class party seemed like a great idea last week. With an hours sleep, a sore leg and a busy schedule, I'm having second thoughts. Of course, I don't want to disappoint Robby and his friends so I'll be putting on a pirate hat and proudly presenting the little buccaneers with a tray full of cupcakes. On the good side, my limp will go along with my pirate persona!

A Sweaty Solution

An often unspoken issue for amputees who are working out is the sweaty limb. I'm not talking a little perspiration. I'm talking about copious amounts of liquid that pools at the bottom of the liner.
When I'm working out at a high intensity or if it is hot outside, I often have to stop my activity, sit down and remove my liner so that I can quite literally pour out the sweat. Not only is it inconvenient, it is absolutely disgusting! If I don't get rid of the liquid, my leg begins to piston within the liner, compromising my suspension and my ability to walk safely.

Spraying my limb with antiperspirant helped but did not completely resolve the issue. I have been complaining and looking for a solution since I became an amputee 9 years ago. I haven't found a remedy- until now!

When I was in Boston I discovered an antiperspirant spray manufactured by ALPS. Unlike what I have been using, this spray was designed to be used on the residual limb. Four times stronger than commercial antiperspirants, the manufacturer claims it to be powerful enough to tackle the sweatiest situation, including my leg!

Last week I started spraying down my limb before going to the gym. I was initially skeptical, but I was converted to a believer after my first workout. To my delight, my leg stayed dry within my liner while the rest of my body was dripping with sweat!

I was thrilled to discover the product, but frustrated to learn that it has been on the market for some time. I've been working at conferences for almost five years. During all of this time, why didn't I know about this spray? Again, I am left wondering what other solutions I don't know.