The Not So Big Dig

The weather this past weekend was unbelievably beautiful. The cool and crisp air paired with the bright sun shining in a brilliant blue sky made yard work an easy decision. Sunday morning I woke up eager to break in my new leg by spending the day getting ready for spring!

It wasn't hard for me to lure my little helper away from the XBox. I simply had to ask if he knew anybody who was good at digging in the dirt and he was off the couch and pulling on his cowboy boots. After he explained that he was six years old now and too old to use a child's shovel, Robby dragged the large tool out of the garage and asked me where I wanted my holes. He certainly does love digging.

I decided to spend the day creating a walkway through the flowerbed in front of our house. The muddy marks on my stairs are a constant reminder of the shortcut that I take on a daily basis. Since I don't see my habit changing, I decided to create a brick walk through the bed to minimize the dirt that we all traipse into the house. I marked the area that needed to be excavated and let Robby go to town.


After about twenty minutes, Robby's shovel struck something unusual. He brushed off the dirt and proudly proclaimed that he found a meteorite. Dropping the shovel he ran into the house (so much for keeping the dirt outside) and retrieved his metal detector. He began jumping up and down when the machine beeped, confirming the metal content of the mysterious object. Mr. Bill, hearing Robby squeal and seeing him excited, meandered over to help us investigate.

It turns out that Robby did not find a meteorite but unearthed part of a canon ball from the Civil War. Robby delighted in his first archeological find and took off running through the yard with his metal detector, determined to find more treasures.

Mr. Bill stopped working his yard and brought over his metal detector. The two friends spent the afternoon searching the yard and uncovering cans, nails and the occasional unidentified metallic object. I lost my digging buddy and finished the excavation by myself.

As the afternoon wore on, I began to suspect that Robby's archaeological find was not accidental. When I asked Mr. Bill if he planted the canon ball, he simply smiled and responded, "You never know where you're going to find them. I put 'em all over your yard." While my enthusiasm was somewhat squashed by this confession, Robby remains oblivious to the baiting of our yard.

I suspect that the canon balls were buried in an attempt to reignite Robby's interest in metal detecting with his friend. If that was the reason, it certainly worked. Robby is now counting down the days until he and Mr. Bill can go metal detecting in a "real field." It'll be fun to see what the pair digs up!

Pimp My Leg!

When I received my first prosthesis nine and a half years ago, I was insistent that it be covered with a flesh-like covering. I was horrified by the thought that the casual observer would know that I no longer had my leg. I remember explaining my decision to Elliot (my prosthetist) by saying something along the lines of, "It's bad enough I have to walk on this thing. I don't care what it costs. I don't want anybody to know."

In retrospect, it is certainly easier to see that my desire to create a life-like prosthesis stemmed from shame. I had not fully embraced the reality of being an amputee and continued to be embarrassed. In many ways I was taken back to the angst of the teen years when the thought of being viewed as different was mortifying.  Having my prosthesis matching my biological leg provided me some comfort and allowed me to feel somewhat normal.

During the 18 months that I wore the cover, something unexpected occurred. I slowly began to adjust to my limb loss and without realizing it, my definition of "different" changed. I realized that different doesn't have to be bad or to equate to anything negative. Instead, many times different can mean just that: different. I slowly became okay with being different and no longer needed to try to conform.

One night after Scott went to bed I woke up, went into the kitchen and began to dismantle the artfully crafted cosmetic cover. I remember feeling an odd sense of exhilaration as I cut the foam and nylon and slowly exposed the metallic pylon and carbon fiber socket. That evening I realized that different can also mean unique, and that was something I could embrace!

A few weeks ago during a conversation with Elliot about a new leg he was creating for me, we started to talk about socket art. Until now, my sockets have typically been polished black carbon fiber. We were set to go with the same sleek look until I casually said, "If I ever get the chance I'm going to get it chromed." Elliot tilted his head, smiled and said, "I think it would look bad-ass. If anybody can carry it off, it's you. Let's go for it." 

I certainly have come a long way from that timid and scared amputee of a decade ago! Instead of trying to fit in, I've learned  not only to embrace but now proudly flaunt what makes me unique. I love my new chrome socket. I know my new leg invites second glances, stares, and probably volumes of comments. Instead of cowering or trying to blend, my pimped out leg shouts confidence.

Wal-Mart Chat

In the years since my amputation I have been fortunate enough to participate in several mobility clinics where I picked up tricks and received suggestions from gait experts. I have worked diligently to implement the modifications and, barring socket complications, I have finally achieved a refined and normal gait pattern. When I am wearing pants, the only evidence of my prosthetic is the crease line that always occurs where the socket ends.

My gait was significantly compromised when I fell in November. After the healing process (which seemed to take forever), I have been concentrating on resuming my normal gait pattern. When I was in pain, I naturally modified the way that I walked in an effort to minimize the discomfort I was feeling. Although I'm no longer hurting, I find myself returning to the poor techniques I was relying upon. It's amazing how quickly bad habits can develop!

Yesterday, walking through the aisles of Wal-Mart I concentrated on my walking pattern. I tried to remember and apply every tip I have ever received during my work at the mobility clinics. Needless to say, it took me a long time to make it to the check-out.

The clerk working my line was chatty and, although I typically don't mind talking, I just wanted to check out and leave. He had other ideas and began talking about the weather and the price of oranges. (Incidentally I thought that the orange conversation was an odd choice because I had no orange products in my order.) I smiled and answered his questions, silently hoping he would hurry up so I could leave.

As we were finishing the transaction, he complimented me on my @amputeemommy necklace. I smiled and said thank you. He asked me why I was wearing it, at which point I explained that it was the name of my website. Without missing a beat he said, "I am guessing that you know an amputee then if you have a whole website and necklace." I was a little surprised by his remark, but I kept smiling as I told him that I am an amputee.

The teller and I proceeded to have a lengthy conversation about my being an amputee. He refused to believe that I was using a prosthetic, his rationale being that he saw me walking to his line and I wasn't "gimpin' or nothing." Our conversation turned into a mixture of comedy and annoyance as I tried to convince this stranger that I was missing part of my leg. It wasn't until I pulled up the pants on my jeans to reveal my carbon fiber prosthesis did this young lad accept that I am an amputee.

I have been so self-critical during the past few weeks about my gait. Apparently my limp is not as noticeable as I feared. I walked away from Wal-Mart with a bag full of groceries and a smile on my face! Perhaps I am almost back to my pre-injury self.

Boo!

I try to keep my work appointments scheduled during the time that Robby is in school. I love the afternoon time that we have together, after I pick him up from school and before the evening becomes hectic with dinner, homework and bath time. These few hours have become "our time" where we play games, read books, sing songs or just talk. Although I try to avoid it, twice a week I have a late afternoon appointment so Robby spends the afternoon entertaining his Daddy.

Typically the boys play XBox, build with Legos or watch videos while I'm working. Yesterday I came home from work and, to my chagrin, the two were cuddled on the couch watching Ghost Hunters. I watched for a few minutes but switched the channel as soon as I saw Robby begin to cower, explaining that the show was too scary. I stood firm against the protests of both which promptly ended their paranormal seeking adventure.

Scott followed me to the kitchen, accusing me of overreacting. I reminded him that Robby is only six and prone to nightmares. The last thing we need is for him to be up all night because of a television show about ghosts! He finally acquiesced that Robby might be too young for the show and I agreed that, despite his young age, he did seem to be enjoying it.

We spent the rest of the evening trying to divert Robby's attentions from ghosts and Big Foot (evidently the pair had watched "Finding Big Foot" before I walked in on Ghost Hunters).  Tucking him into his race car bed, I was optimistic that we had put all thoughts of the paranormal out of his mind and was hopeful that he would sleep without a nightmare. As soon as I turned off the light he whispered, "You know Momom, there are no ghosts but I know that Big Foot is the real deal."  So much for having him forget the television shows!

To my delight Robby did not have any nightmares. Unfortunately, I woke up at 4 AM because I heard something move. I opened my eyes and I swear I saw an opaque form, the size of a child, wearing a Yoda mask staring at me. I screamed so loud that Scott probably jumped three feet straight up in bed. By the time he got his glasses on the scary little Yoda was gone. I was so startled that I couldn't go back to sleep. 

Apparently, I overreacted and Ghost Hunters does not cause Robby to have nightmares. However, simply referencing the show will cause me to wake up terrorized in the middle of the night by a Star Wars themed apparition.  Either way, the show and all talk of the paranormal is banned in this house! I'm too old for that kind of a startle!

Help Wanted

My increasing work schedule and responsibilities have forced Scott and me to reevaluate the division of labor within our household. I suppose this is a nice way of saying that I have refused to keep all of my responsibilities as a stay-at-home Mom since I'm working full time. For the first few weeks I tried to do everything but quickly realized that I was rendered exhausted and resentful by the end of the day. It became clear that things were going to have to change.

In order to lighten my load, it was agreed that we would hire somebody to clean our home twice a month. I was excited about this decision because I hate to clean. The thought of a crew of people coming into my home to scrub and polish the grime and dirt away felt like a wonderful luxury!

Unfortunately hiring a cleaning crew has morphed from a luxury into a headache. We have been trying to hire a professional service since October. I never thought it would be this hard to hire somebody but it seems that either they can't be trusted or they don't really want the job. This "time saving move" has turned into a logistical nightmare requiring more of my attention than I anticipated.

Our first cleaning service, highly recommended on Yelp, left both Scott and me surprised by the number of trash bags piled up outside. We knew that he had acquired our share of ad circulars and old magazines, but we were embarrassed by the mountain of trash that we had apparently been harboring. As the afternoon wore on I began to notice that I couldn't find certain items, particularly Robby's favorite cups, my travel coffee mugs and most upsetting--Black Bear.

Robby has slept with Black Bear since he was an infant, and although the stuffed animal looks dirty and dingy to others, we see him as well-loved and experienced. We began looking for Black Bear after dinner. When we weren't able to locate him, something told me to venture outside to the looming trash mountain that had been collected by the cleaners. 

My angst about digging in the trash quickly turned into the exhilaration of a treasure hunt. The cleaners didn't throw away old newspapers and magazines. They had simply collected everything that they didn't want to clean and anything that they considered clutter into trash bags to be thrown away. Inside the bags I found my travel mugs, all of Robby's CARS cups, a flash drive, two sweaters, a pair of Robby's pajamas, numerous cat toys and Black Bear.

Obviously, we needed to keep looking for a different cleaning service. The next company that I called failed to clean half of my house but charged me full price. Another simply didn't show up after scheduling two separate appointments. A highly rated company stayed for 90 minutes yet charged me for a full 2 hours. Although they did a great job cleaning, the discrepancy in time made me question their honesty.

I never imagined it would be this difficult to hire a cleaning service. I'm shocked by the lack of communication, work ethic and honesty that has been demonstrated by so many! Although I'm frustrated, I haven't given up hope. We still need somebody to help with the housework.  Today I have a new company coming to clean. Hopefully they will work out because, to be honest, I'm tired of looking!

Limb-Loss.Org

In the past, a prosthetist would evaluate the patient and determine which device was appropriate. The prosthesis would be built and the patient would be fitted without the opportunity to make key decisions.  In essence, the amputee had little or no involvement in the choosing of their own prosthetic components. Thanks largely to the internet, this trend is changing and patients are demanding information to become key players in their own prosthetic care.

The ability to research options and to seek the input and experience from other amputees is revolutionizing prosthetic care. Unfortunately, research into prosthetic options is not as simple as a quick Google search. Prosthetic manufacturers have been slow to recognize the power that amputees are beginning with wield when it comes to leading their prosthetic team. The majority of the manufacturer websites have been designed for the practitioner with the research needs of the patient an afterthought. The sites are often littered with jargon and specifications that makes deciphering and breaking down the options an arduous and frustrating task.

More than any time in history, amputees are embracing the prosthetic process and demanding devices that will work with them in achieving their goals instead of settling for a limiting device simply because it was "offered."  For new amputees, the process can be daunting and intimidating.  As amputees are becoming more proactive and empowered about their choice in components, I have long wished that a resource existed that provides user-friendly descriptions while allowing the opportunity to provide real life feedback from the user.

I was utterly delighted when I was introduced to limb-loss.org, an emerging website in our community. This is the only place I am aware of which allows amputees to openly review and rate their components. The site is constantly being improved with new features, but it looks like a promising resource! Take a look at the site and let me know your thoughts.

Lazy Weekend...

The marrow donation on Friday left me feeling physically drained. The procedure only took about five hours and although I can't describe it as comfortable, it wasn't nearly as painful as I feared. The sound of the machine and the pulsing sensation of my blood being returned to my body was the most disconcerting, but even those feelings were tolerable. In a stroke of irony, I was listening to the St. Jude's Hospital radio-thon throughout the donation. Hearing the stories of families with children who are battling for their lives certainly helped to keep my minor side effects in perspective!

After a week of preparation and a few hours, the entire process was over. I came home exhausted, depleted and strangely exhilarated. It was a wonderful feeling knowing that I was able to help somebody. Scott came home from work and was ready to assume his duties as primary caretaker for the weekend.

My weekend was spent alternating between napping in bed and falling asleep in my rocker by the fireplace. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't stay awake for more than a few hours at a time. I finally decided to give up and surrendered to the fatigue. As unnatural as it felt to lounge and do nothing, staying quiet was the best thing for my body to rebuild itself.

Thankfully Scott was adequately prepared for my weekend of lazing around. The fridge was stocked and all of the laundry was clean. I tried to make my anticipated weakness as unobtrusive as possible.

Knowing that I wasn't going to be able to play as much, I surprised Robby with a new XBox game. While I'm not a proponent of video games for babysitting purposes, the dreary weather coupled with my limitations while recovering created a perfect environment for gaming. Everybody was happy because I was able to rest and Robby was allowed to play for several hours a day. He proudly told anybody who would listen that he was playing the full version of Lego Pirates of the Caribbean, not the demo version!

I am still tired, but I can feel my strength beginning to return. I suspect that within a few days the entire experience will be nothing more than a memory. Despite the inconveniences, I have no regrets about my decision to donate bone marrow. If asked I would gladly do it again!