Swim Swim Swim (sort of)

Robby's prized rectangle pool, which he adored and was set up in front of our front door, promptly popped two days after it was inflated and filled. Although I was initially upset, the puncture turned out to be a blessing. Seeing how thrilled Robby was with a 20" wading pool, Scott finally acquiesced and agreed to a larger pool for our little water bug.

After thoroughly researching our options, including a lengthy Facebook discussion, we headed to Toys R Us and bought our summer pool. We now have a 10 foot, 34 inch deep circle pool sitting in the corner of our driveway. Unfortunately we set up the pool without measuring. We blocked the garage door so we now have to park outside.

While our pool isn't completely level we did our best with some old blankets, a piece of his wagon and assorted foam alphabet letters. If I learned anything from my Mom growing up, it was how to improvise in a pinch. Thankfully Robby seems happy to have a shallow and deep end in his circle pool!

Robby is delighted with his "ginormous super deep circle pool." I have to admit that I've been enjoying it as well since I've been dreaming of having our own in ground swimming pool constructed in our backyard.  It is just deep enough for me to float on a raft. Of course, this rarely occurs because as soon as I lie down, Robby decides to hop on, promptly sinking the inflatable.

Yesterday, after riding my bike (to my chagrin my Prosthetist advised me that non-impact exercise will help with the swelling in my stump) I donned my bathing suit and prepared to spend the day poolside. We spent four hours splashing and playing. Scott, opting to stay dry, dutifully acted as our "Cabana Daddy" by bringing us snacks and drinks.

We spent the afternoon playing various versions of the same game, which was chase and hop on Momom. I wasn't wearing my swim leg so I spent the afternoon crab crawling around the circumference of the pool, trying to avoid being splashed and/or ridden. After four hours of crab crawling in the pool, my arms felt so heavy I didn't even want to move them to wash my face. Thankfully Robby seemed content to quietly play with play d'oh for the rest of the evening so I didn't have to move much.

After a brief interruption for travel, my 3S Summer is in full swing. I am refusing to spend any unnecessary time in the car and I am dedicating myself to having fun. Unfortunately we did have to run to the grocery store one time, but it was an emergency. We were out of ice cream!

No More Travel

I have been dutifully moisturizing my stump in order to treat the chapped skin. Unfortunately the heavy cream has done nothing to remedy the problem. In fact, with each passing day the area has grown bigger and more painful.

After nearly a week of my self-prescribed treatment for my self-diagnosed ailment failing, I finally broke down and called my prosthetist. (My plans for laying in the pool all day were squelched by thunderstorms that we were experiencing all afternoon, so I figured it was probably a good time to go.) I am glad that I decided to make an appointment!

It turns out that I did not have a chapped stump. I had the beginning of a blood blister. Moisturizing, I learned the hard way, provides no medicinal value for treating a blood blister!

We suspect that the blood blister formed as a result of the myriad of road trips I have been taking during the past two weeks. With my leg dangling as I have been sitting in the passenger seat of the car for a seemingly endless number of hours, the blood has been pooling at the bottom of my limb. My stump began to swell, creating a vacuum within my socket. Voila! I unknowingly provided the "perfect storm" for a blood blister.

I've switched to a larger socket and I have reverted to wearing a shrinker sock at night. The area has been marked so that I can monitor if the circumference is increasing or decreasing. For the next few days I am staying at home and boycotting the car- unless of course it involves going for ice cream! I have already told my friends and family that if they want to see me they will need to come here. I am now on the "traveler injured reserve" list.

*Despite the blood blister I have completed two dedicated miles, keeping me on track for my 100 mile challenge.

Funeral Fears

Yesterday was an exhausting day. Scott, Robby and I piled back into our car to travel four hours to a small town in northern Pennsylvania, but this was not a happy excursion: I was going to a funeral.

My stepbrother Christopher was born with cystic fibrosis. He was a tough kid, having survived numerous lung infections and more hospitalizations than anybody can imagine. Our prayers were answered when he received a double lung transplant. He continued to enjoy several active and happy years after his transplant so we were all shocked when he passed away in 2004.

Due to the circumstances around his sudden death, his brain was not buried with his remains during the original funeral. The organ was just released by the forensics experts. Yesterday I attended my first brain funeral.

I didn't know what to expect, and I was apprehensive about attending. I am ashamed to admit that I had a difficult time sleeping the night before the service for fear of an "open jar" viewing. I also knew that attending was the right thing to do, and I felt compelled to be there to honor Christopher and to support my dad and his wife.

The drive to the funeral was uneventful with the exception of the three times we had to stop by the side of the road because Robby had to go. Apparently urinating on the side of the Pennsylvania turnpike is a lot of fun. By the time we arrived at the funeral home, I was frazzled and exhausted.

I was relieved when I realized that his brain was sealed in a closed box. The service was touching and wonderfully appropriate. I put the hydrangea flowers that Robby picked for the occasion on top of the crypt and thanked Christopher for being our guardian angel.

After picking up Robby and Scott at the park (they did not attend the service) we went for a quick lunch. Then we piled back into the car and drove home. Despite being tired and stiff from the trip, I am glad that I attended. I hope that this service has provided a sense of peace for my dad and his wife. Their pain remains so raw, even after nearly seven years.

In the last ten days I have driven more than fifteen hundred miles. Today I can be found lounging poolside with Robby. I will sit in a car only if the trip is less than five miles and involves ice cream!

100 Miles in 100 Days...

During the past few months I have been wracking my brain trying to come up with my next great adventure. Last year I ran a 5k. I remain proud that with hard work and practice, I accomplished my goal. During the process I also realized how much I detest running. I've proven to myself that I can run a 5k and, to be perfectly honest, I have no desire to put myself through that purgatory again.

I have recently been contacted by an ambassador of the Prosthetic Outreach Foundation about joining them on a new endeavor. After thoroughly researching the organization to make sure that it is both legitimate and something that I feel comfortable lending my name to, I am excited about linking with them on this project.

The Prosthetic Outreach Foundation (POF) is based in Seattle, Washington, but has a global reach. It provides prosthetic devices and training to amputees around the globe whose finances keep them from accessing prosthetic care. The durable and low cost prosthetics provided through POF allow amputees to regain their mobility and contribute to the care of their families and community. Without the prosthetics provided through POF, many of these amputees are destined for a life of hardship and poverty simply because of their limb loss.

Prosthetics technology has grown leaps and bounds during the past decade. The introduction of bionic devices has revolutionized the field. I know that my computerized Proprio foot has changed my life! Prosthetics are becoming more intuitive, comfortable and realistic. It is truly an amazing time to be an amputee- but only if you have financial access to this level of technology.

I am fortunate enough to receive excellent prosthetic care and to utilize a high-end bionic device (Proprio ankle). Almost daily I find myself remarking to somebody about how much my Proprio has improved the quality of my life. When it comes to prosthetic care, I hit the lottery!

I feel compelled to pay it forward and to try to help amputees who are not as lucky. I want to make a real impact by providing prosthetic devices to those without access. I have decided to join Prosthetic Outreach Foundation by walking 100 miles in 100 days.

With each mile I will be reflecting upon the amputees who are not receiving any prosthetic care. I know how happy I was when I received my first prosthetic foot. It felt like I waited forever, but in reality it was only five months after my amputation. Many amputees wait for years, and even decades before they receive their first prosthetic- assuming that they are lucky enough to receive a prosthetic at all!

I will be raising funds through this walk to provide prosthetics for these amputees whom I will never meet. Knowing that my efforts might provide a prosthetic (or perhaps more) for a fellow amputee is humbling. I can't think of a better way to honor my journey so far and to show my gratitude for the prosthetics that I use!

I don't want to do this walk alone. I realize that my readers are spread around the world, but we can unite behind this walk. I encourage you to start your own fundraising page, tell your friends and start your own 100 mile walk. Together, we can start a movement.

I've always been an optimist. I, the AmputeeMommy, want to change the world for struggling amputees. Please consider joining me. Start your page, tell your friends and let's start walking! Together we can make a huge impact.

My Ampu-versary Celebration

Yesterday was my eight year anniversary of my amputation, a date that has been dubbed my Ampu-versary. The date is always bittersweet for me. I try to embrace the day as an opportunity to reflect on how far I have come. Yet, despite my efforts to remain upbeat. my mind often travels back to the day I had my amputation.

I was visiting my Mom in preparation for our family picnic. Yesterday morning I was lying in bed, not wanting to face the day. Although I was trying to remember the positive in my life, at that moment I was missing my foot.

Thankfully the ampu-versary blues were quickly lifted away as the smell of blueberry muffins wafted into my bedroom. Knowing that could be an emotionally draining day, my Mom and Robby got up early to make me muffins. It is impossible for me to feel down when the cutest five year old in the world proudly handed me a warm blueberry muffin that he baked for his "best buddy."

My day was spent in full picnic preparation mode until the guests arrived. At that point I slipped into my swimsuit and prepared for water games with the kids. This Momom/Aunt/Cousin may only have one leg, but I should never be under estimated in a watergun and water balloon battle!

While many of my cousins and family members refused to venture into the water war zone, I fully embraced the battle. I, along with the kids, was fully drenched from the battle. We started with teams, but the kids quickly became confused and simply started throwing balloons and shooting water guns at anything that moved. I learned that it is impossible to run in a swim leg, hence I got hit with a lot of water balloons. After two hours, and over 300 water balloons, a cease fire was called-- the kids wanted more ice cream cake.

Between the water fights and the Slip n' Slide, I didn't have time to reflect on my ampu-versary. I was too busy playing and having fun with all of the kids!

Each year my ampu-versary is becoming easier. I didn't cry and, aside from my morning funk, I didn't feel sad. I am proud of how far I have come in eight years. The absence of constant pain has been liberating. I never envisioned that my life would be so fulfilling and happy after I became an amputee.

Would I rather have my natural uninjured foot? Of course I would, but not if that meant giving up everything that I have accomplished since becoming an amputee. My limb loss has set my life on a different path. I must admit that I am thoroughly enjoying the adventure!

Shapes are Everywhere!

Since Robby's audible and socially incorrect observations that he made at my prosthetists office, we have been talking a lot about how people are different. I, along with Scott, my Mom and our neighbor Mr. Bill have all spoken with Robby about how his pointing out differences can hurt feelings. I decided to take the offense to try to drill in the point so that another unfortunate observation could be avoided.

Before entering my prosthetists office again Robby and I reviewed the "rules." People are different, and it is not nice to talk about physical variations. He was to keep his remarks, observations and thoughts to himself and we would talk about them privately. After all, he doesn't want to hurt anybody's feelings or make them sad.

Before going inside, I took a deep breath and simply hoped for the best. I also hoped that the woman whom he offended earlier was not in the waiting room. I felt a wave of relief when I opened the door and she wasn't there.

My appointment went smoothly and Robby was well behaved. On our way out, as I was talking to some of the office staff in the hallway, I saw a man with dwarfism enter. The look of amazement and awe on Robby's face let me know that he saw him enter as well.

"Psst... Momom. Psst... Momom I have to tell you something." I shot Robby the "don't do this to me or your little world will come crashing down" Mommy stare. He hesitated as if he was contemplating whether it was worth it to proceed. Apparently it was worth it.

"Momom. I have to tell you something right now." I grabbed Robby by the arm and took him into a treatment room. Closing the door, I explained (again) that it isn't nice to comment on what other people look like. My prosthetist, who happened to be in the room, simply told Robby that he shouldn't laugh because people come in all shapes and sizes.

Apparently that simple statement made the greatest impact. Robby walked past the man without a remark or giggle. The entire drive home he simply kept talking about how people come in all shapes and sizes. I felt a sense of calm as I contemplated that this uncomfortable developmental stage is behind us.

My tranquility was shattered when I took Robby to the grocery store. He spent the entire shopping trip pointing out all of the different shapes that he saw. I was happy to escape the store unscathed after he pointed to a rather large biker and said, "Momom, look at that shape!" I think we are going to start working on his quiet voice.

Ampu-versary Blues

On July 3, 2003 I underwent my below knee amputation. Regardless of how well-adjusted I feel, this date always feels bittersweet. My life as an amputee has exceeded my expectations. I am no longer in constant pain, I have a wonderful husband and a darling (most of the time) little boy whom I adore. In spite of the abundant blessings in my life, I find myself mourning the loss of my foot around this time of year.

It took me a long time before I allowed myself permission to grieve my limb loss. I erroneously believed that I was somehow not entitled to feel sadness or pain over my amputation. Because the medical decision to amputate was mine, I worried that it would be hypocritical to then grieve the result.

I didn't regret my decision to amputate. I was relieved that the nagging pain and constant surgeries were behind me. I had peace with the decision, knowing that it was carefully weighed and the correct treatment for my injury.

Finally, it occurred to me that it was okay to grieve the loss of my foot without casting doubt on the decision to amputate. My foot, good and bad, was a part of me for the first 29 years of my life. Allowing myself to verbalize something as simple as, "I miss my foot" felt liberating. Slowly I began to become the well-adjusted amputee that I was portraying for so long!

Grief is a personal process. For me, I became empowered by giving voice to the feelings. I began writing and confiding in my friends and family. I learned (the hard way) that trying to repress these feelings only limited my potential for growth and my ability to adjust.

I don't live my life in a state of grief. Most times I don't give living my life as an amputee much thought; it has simply become a reality. If you know me, I hope that you realize that I am a happy woman who is actively involved with life.

Though, I have to admit there are times I miss my foot. Typically I miss the simplicity of living as a bi-legged person. These are the days I realize all of the small accommodations that I have naturally made because of my amputation and I find myself resenting the extra planning that it requires to live with a prosthetic.

I am having an "I miss my leg" day. I realize that it is probably because of the approaching ampu-versary. I know that the feelings will wane and that I will assume my normal outlook soon. In the meantime, I know that it is okay for me to feel a tad blue today.