A Clarification: Dedicated to My Mom

I have received some complaints concerning yesterday's blog. I feel it necessary to clarify a few points, primarily because these complaints were lodged by my mother, my biggest fan and supporter. She is also one of the last people I would want to upset. She feels that her "puppies" were displayed in a negative light and that their "quirks" were depicted as in an unflattering manner.

First of all, she asked me to explain that she has never chosen any of her dogs. They were all given to her, mostly by her children. Take Lizzy Puppy, her short haired schizo dog in need of Xanax. Lizzy started out being my brother's dog. After having her for a week, Jae changed his mind and decided that he no longer wanted to be a puppy parent. He asked my mom to "watch" Lizzy until he could find a suitable home. Lizzy moved in, peed on the couch to mark her territory, and isn't going anywhere!

Yes, she claims that I am the culprit behind her raising Tigger, the large, loud dog in need of Prozac. My mom contends that I was planning on taking Tigger with me as soon as I found a suitable apartment for myself. She and I have different recollections of this conversation, so I will address it no further.

As for the dog door situation, miraculously both dogs have started using this access point. I received an ecstatic phone call. Lizzy had finally used the dog door, without being baited through with the lure of a raw hot dog. Truth be told, she was more excited about Lizzy using the dog door than she was when I graduated from college.

Apparently a disagreement also exists concerning her training methods. Her dogs have each been through obedience training, one "graduated" from the same class four times. Her dogs are "free spirits" and their behavior is merely an effort to express their canine canine creativity.

Another disagreement stems from the barking deterrent collars. Okay, my Mom claims that she attempted to use the collar. The only dog that was affected by the tone emitted was the canine who was quiet. The other dogs were able to bark and create a painful tone for the "good" dog. She has now proved that her dogs can not only be unruly, but that they have the propensity for sadism.

With all of the quirks of her dogs, they are wonderful companions. Every member of the family has a special relationship with Nana's puppies. Robby cannot wait to give the dogs treats when he arrives at her house. There is also an element of safety when dogs are in the house, especially hers. I rest comfortably knowing that, should there be an intruder, my Mom would know immediately. After the barking and howling subsided, both dogs would dash quickly under the covers to protect themselves from danger. If the noise didn't wake my Mom, surely she would notice the covers being stolen!

Puppy Love

I am a stay at home Mom, but that does not mean that I do not work. I am busier throughout the day now than I was when I worked full time. I have learned that there is no such thing as a lunch break when you have a toddler in the house. When the sun goes down, I am ready for sleep!

My heart goes out to my Mom. She is as busy as I during the day. Unfortunately, circumstances prevent her from benefiting from a full night sleep at night. In reality, she probably hasn't slept a solid six hours in 38 years.

No, young children don't prevent my mom from sleeping. We are grown and out of the house, with the exception of my brother, who has recently taken residence in the basement. As soon as we were relatively self-sufficient, she made a classic mistake: she got a dog.

I am not sure how it happens, but somehow every single dog my Mom adopts ends up with issues. In addition to a plethora of health issues, from diabetes to seizure disorders, her pets always demonstrate social issues. I'm not talking normal anxieties. Her animals all develop full neurosis.

My mom installed a dog door in her house, hopeful that this would enable canine independence allowing her to sleep through the night. The problem? Her dogs are afraid of the door, especially at night. Yes, her dogs are afraid of the dark.

Every night, she is awoken by one of her "puppies." She must walk downstairs with them, turn on the outdoor light, and open the door. Sometimes the dogs can be cajoled inside through the pet door. On most occasions, she must wait for them to finish and escort them back to bed.

We installed a motion light above the dog door, hoping that would resolve the issue. Her dogs are afraid of the light and the mysterious entity that turns it on. When the light turns on, the barking begins.

Her puppies must have super sonic hearing because they bark when a neighbor up the street closes his car door. They have been known to howl at birds. And don't get me started when there are nearby fireworks...

My mom purchased special dog collars to help subside their barking. The collar emits a tone which discourages the barking. The collars don't work. Perhaps this is because they remain in the original packaging, in the garage, awaiting batteries.

Despite the dogs' health issues and neurosis, they are loved. No matter what they do or destroy, my Mom never angers. I remember when my mom got a new couch delivered. We went to pick out throw pillows, only to return home to find the sofa shredded. My mom's reaction? She simply sighed and suggested that we return the pillows.

On the rare occasion that she feels that her puppies need correction, she resorts to the dreaded newspaper roll. She never uses the newspaper, or smacks it against a chair to make a noise. She simply shows them the paper, and continues with the typical "shhhh shhhh." Most times, the dogs continue barking, and her shushing becomes louder until she gives up.

I am not saying that she doesn't try to train her dogs. Every canine companion has completed and graduated from several dog obedience courses. Her current dogs have each been through the course at least twice. They now will complete their trick for a hot dog, but for nothing else.

I love visiting my Mom, and I love her dogs. Robby loves animals and tolerates his Nana's puppies. He learned quickly that they will steal the food right out of his hand and that Tigger has no qualms about swiping his toys.

I know that my mom must be tired. I know how I felt getting up every three hours when Robby needed a bottle. I cannot imagine maintaining that schedule for years. When she does get a chance to sleep, there is barely room. She must squeeze between the two dogs, and the fit only gets tighter as the weather chills.

Her dogs are very lucky to have my mom take care of them. At her house, the "dog days of summer" equates to ice cream in bed with the air conditioner on full blast! I just wish that her puppies would appreciate her and maybe let her sleep at least one night!

Have I Mentioned My Natural Grace?

Scott loves technology. More particularly, he loves getting other people involved with his newest gadget. His mother has been his biggest challenge to convert, so he felt a sense of victory when she finally agreed to use a web camera.

Scott and his mom now "web chat" several times a week. It has been nice because she is able to see Robby, and he is able to see his Grandma. We no longer have to try to explain Robby's latest trick or feat. She is able to see him and interact via webcam.

Per Sunday night tradition, Scott was chatting with his mom last night. Robby, not feeling particularly compelled to entertain, was sitting on the floor watching an enthralling episode of Thomas the Train. After exchanging hellos and a brief conversation, I was planning to gracefully take my leave and draw a bath.

Unfortunately there is nothing graceful about me. I tried to discretely slip off the bed and out of the room. To say I was unsuccessful in this attempt would be an understatement.

I must have been tired from the weekend, or perhaps I was looking forward to my bath, but I apparently forgot to put my leg on before I started to walk. I went down with the loudest of "thuds," hitting my thigh against the night table before I landed by slamming into the wall.

Mind numbing pain immediately followed my gravitational experiment. I feel comfortable stating that I have not experienced a more severe, debilitating pain than the sensation when I happen to fall onto my stump. It is a pain like no other that leaves me momentarily paralyzed and I can only wait for it to pass.

As I was on the floor, waiting for the wave of pain to crest, I heard Scott providing a play-by-play to his mom, who heard the entire event via the computer. Robby began to cry because I was hurt. After the pain eased, I performed a quick body check. No broken bones, no blood. I reasoned that, although embarrassed and bruised, I would be okay.

I can't recall the last time I fell because I "forgot" to put on my prosthetic. Albeit inevitable, it is still disconcerting. Did I forget my leg because I am so used to always wearing it? Or, did I forget that I was an amputee and that I needed a prosthetic?

I don't know the answer. I do know that I was tired, and my mind was occupied. I don't know an amputee who has not had a similar experience. I also know that I am already becoming sore, and that I am going to be hitting the ibuprofen bottle hard tomorrow!

Forever... It is a REALLY long time...

I received an email this morning from a friend of mine who had his leg amputated, below knee, due to an accident. His amputation is still fresh, and he has not yet been fitted with a prosthetic. My heart breaks for him as I listen to him share his feelings and fears about living as an amputee.

Although the situations behind everybody's amputation vary, I suppose that the grief and fears that are experienced are universal. I will never forget the first time I tried to balance on my IPOP (Immediate Post-Operative Prosthetic) after my surgery. I melted to the ground as I started to cry, convinced that I would never be able to balance and walk on a prosthetic. Of course, I did learn to balance, but nobody would have been able to convince me of that at the time.

I remember feeling overwhelmed after my amputation--overwhelmed not only by the pain, but also by fear and confusion. I had lived my 29 years with two legs. I was faced with the unchanging reality that I was now to live the rest of my life with only one leg.

Very few things in life are as permanent as an amputation. Marriage can be undone by divorce; children eventually grow up and start their own families; tattoos can be removed. Nothing can undo an amputation. This prospect is daunting, especially in the early days of recovery.

I still face moments of feeling completely overwhelmed by my future. It has been six years, but I continue to have days when I put my prosthetic on and I feel sad because I lament having to put on an artificial device in order to walk. My mind wanders to my future and how I am going to be repeating this same task when I am in my 80's and 90's.

How will I feel about being an amputee when I am that old? How am I going to use a prosthetic when I am elderly? Am I always going to have moments when I grieve my leg even when I am in a nursing home playing Canasta and sipping on Milk of Magnesia?

I don't know how I am going to feel about the amputation in the future. I know that it is my reality and that I will somehow continue to cope. During the moments when I find my mind contemplating the "what ifs," I try to refocus and continue forward. I'll often take a deep breathe, try to ignore the fears, and keep about the business of the day.

I am sure that my pushing the feelings out of my mind would be admonished by psychiatrists as an avoidance technique. Trying to stay in the present versus fearing the future seems to be working for me. I wish I had better advice for my friend when he is facing these emotions, but I don't. I do know that he is not alone, and perhaps we can find solace in the knowledge that our fears are universal.

Just a Quick Thought...

I just watched the weather. We are going to have a steady, cold rain until at least Monday. I am trying to look on the bright side...

Oh, and I'm still waiting on a compliment for painting...
:)

Ready for Winter?? Get Your Stump Warmers Out...

It is starting to get cold. I've changed the comforter on the bed, put on the electric mattress pad and pulled the extra blankets out of the closet. I absolutely hate being cold especially when I'm trying to sleep.

Our electric mattress pad has a "zone" feature. More coils are concentrated towards the bottom of the bed, providing increased heat to the feat. Unfortunately, I have only one foot to benefit from his feature. My stump falls smack dab in the center of the pad, which provides minimal warming.

I have a problem keeping my stump warm at night. It doesn't become cool; it becomes downright icy cold to touch and becomes painful. When my residual limb is cold, I am absolutely miserable.

I have tried everything to keep my stump warm at night. I have even wrapped my limb in an electric heating pad. I would not recommend this course of action. In addition to becoming wrapped in the cord when I move, the circulation in my limb has been negatively impacted. I don't have the same temperature receptors, and I worry about burning my limb.

So, always searching for a solution, I kept trying various "warming" methods. A dear friend of mine knitted me socks for my limb. The "stump socks" were soft and warm and slightly over-sized. The sock worked well if I were watching television or on the computer, but immediately rolled off my limb when I began to move in my sleep.

I discovered that my husband's tube socks were the perfect fit for my residual limb. The socks are slightly smaller in size and provide some soothing compression in addition to warmth. Because the socks are longer in length, I can pull them over my knee if necessary and they stay in place during the night.

On extremely cold nights, or when my stump is particularly cold, I resort to hand warmers. One word of caution: It is imperative that a physical barrier exist between the warmer and the residual limb. The hand warmers can get hot, and burns can occur before the amputee can sense the extreme heat.

I pull on one of Scott's tube socks, put the hand warmer in the bottom of a second sock, and pull it over my stump. The hand warmer heats quickly, and provides a large area of warmth. Hand warmers can be expensive (upwards of $1 each) but I found that you can purchase them in bulk for a reduced price. I am still working through the two cases I bought off of Ebay a few years ago.

I use a seal-in liner. Because of the socket design, there is a small air space between my liner covered stump and the prosthetic. When it is cold outside, or I know that I am going to be involved in a cold weather activity (I have a little guy who loves playing in the snow and sledding) I will put a hand warmer in the bottom of my socket. My stump stays nice and warm while outside, and I am able to avoid that horrible cold cramping which results from a cold residual limb.

I feel the effects of my amputation more during the winter. Limiting my activities is not a viable option. After all, I have a little boy who is eagerly anticipating his first snowball fight of the season. The hand warmers and a pair of Scott's tube socks are already on my night stand. I know I'll be warm and comfy as I sip my hot cocoa, watching the snow fall. Bring on the cold!

Mr. Observant? Maybe not.

I have been trying to get Robby to eat Golden Grahams for several months because I bought a dozen boxes when I hit a super sale at the grocery store this past summer. I was sure that he would love them. I could not have been more wrong.

Robby has absolutely refused to eat the cereal. That is, he has refused until I took a new approach. Instead of calling it cereal, I asked him if he wanted to eat some "cookie crackers." Well, Robby certainly couldn't say no to a cookie. Voila! He now loves his "cookie crackers" and eats them for breakfast and for snacks.

Scott is very much the same way. He told me that he hates Alfredo sauce. I made it for dinner one night, but I called it a "Creamy Parmesan" sauce. He loved it. He also told me that he hates sour cream. He is wrong; he actually likes it. However, he is indeed allergic to rosemary. In retrospect I should have taken this assertion at face value!

I am able to sneak a lot of ingredients into Scott's food because he is not the most observant of individuals. Don't get me wrong, I love him. I'm just saying that his powers of observation are not the most astute.

Case in point: I painted the downstairs today. It used to be an ugly, dirty cream color. It is now a crisp light blue. I worked all day in order to surprise Scott with the painted room when he came home from work. I figured that he would be immediately surprised when he came in from the garage and walked into a beautiful blue room.

Scott came home from work and came up the stairs as usual. Robby was very happy to see his Daddy and greeted him with a big hug. After exchanging pleasantries, I waited for him to comment on the painted room.

Nothing. He didn't say a word. I decided to push the subject a little. Yes, I posed the question that must be universally dreaded by all husbands. "Do you notice anything different?"

Almost instinctively, Scott told me that he liked my hair color. I thanked him before informing him that the color was unchanged. He asked me if I got a haircut. I had not. He told me he liked my nail polish. Just FYI, my nails were covered with little splatters of light blue paint.

It has been several hours, and he has been up and down the stairs many times since returning from work. He has yet to notice the room has been painted, nor has he seemed to note the smell of paint in the air. I am not going to tell him that the room has been painted. I plan on waiting to see how many days it takes him to notice. I'll keep you posted.