Dinosaur Hunt

The weather yesterday was unseasonably warm. I can't believe it is February and our coats aren't necessary! I couldn't fathom spending the day inside and missing out on the sunshine and warm breeze, so while Robby was at school I hatched a plan.

Instead of taking him home for lunch after school, I drove to his favorite park. It turns out that I was not the only mom with this idea= that place was packed. The climbing structures were crowded and, although he tried to integrate and play, Robby quickly abandoned the jungle gyms and asked to go on an explore.

I wasn't surprised when Robby began leading the way down to the stream. He loves throwing stones and climbing on the giant rocks in his favorite little hideaway, and with the warm temperatures and the absence of bugs, I knew that we were going to be there for several hours. Luckily I was prepared and packed snacks.

I was also happy that I wore my running leg in lieu of my Proprio. Feeling particularly energetic and motivated, I decided to join Robby on his climbing adventures. Walking across rock structures and trying to hop from stone to stone to cross the water is not an easy task for an amputee. I was constantly looking down and verifying my foot placement. To my delight, I only fell into the stream twice!

Drenched from bum to toes and tired from three hours of exploring fun, I was thrilled when Robby wanted to go home. On the way from the stream back to the park, my little guide noticed a path forking off the main trail. Curious, he decided it would be fun to take the path less traveled.

Within one turn we were in the middle of a densely wooded area. Robby was confident that we were in the haunted woods where the dinosaurs roamed. He was utterly convinced that we were the only humans to have walked this path. Thankfully he was oblivious to the used condoms littering the trail. Apparently the "dinosaur woods" is a favorite stomping ground for teenagers.

Steering him away from the used prophylactics on the ground, I tried to indulge Robby's imagination. He chatted about finding a dinosaur bone and how happy his friends would be if he brought one to school. I agreed that it would be super neat, but warned that dinosaur bones are hard to find.

As soon as those words came out of my mouth, Robby stopped. He began to jump up and down and pointed to the ground a few feet off of the path. "Momom, you are not going to believe this. I think that's a dinosaur bone."

Setting in the middle of a pile of leaves was a large, white bone. Robby is certain that he found a leg bone from a baby dinosaur. In reality it is probably from a dog, but I didn't have the heart to burst his bubble.

We brought the treasure home, where it was soaked in bleach for two hours. When it dried Robby, immediately put it in his backpack to show his friends at school tomorrow. I've sent his teacher an email explaining that Robby found a bone and is convinced that it is from a dinosaur. I'm sure that his little friends will be impressed with his discovery, and I'm hoping that nobody bursts his paleontology dreams.

Caregiver Help

I have been doing a lot more peer visits during the past few weeks. Although I always feel emotionally drained afterward, I understand the fear that often accompanies losing a limb, and I am happy to help somebody else on their journey. I've often thought that my adjustment would have been easier had I had a mentor.

With each visit I am beginning to fully understand how much an amputation impacts the entire family, not just the patient. When I was preparing for my own surgery, my thoughts were consumed with my own fears, anxieties, and plans for the future. I wasn't able to look beyond myself to see how my family and friends were coping with the loss of my leg. Now that I'm in a different role, I am able to see the impact from a different perspective, and I am astounded with how profoundly a family can be affected.

I find that I am investing nearly as much time with the spouses, parents, siblings, and children as I am with the new amputee. Many times I am followed from the hospital room and into the elevator by a family member (or two) after my visit with a patient where I am peppered with additional questions. It is evident that the loved ones of new amputees are often struggling and need support. However, the needs of the new amputee often trump the needs of the caregiver, leaving the family searching for ways to help, cope, and adapt to the changes.

Although it's been nearly 9 years since my amputation, Scott avoids talking about the first few weeks after my surgery. It isn't a memory that makes him comfortable and he would rather not revisit that time. Finally, this past weekend after a particularly draining peer visit, we had one of our first conversations about his adjustment.

Only after our chat did I realize how profoundly Scott was affected. Obviously our lives changed and I am physically different. However, I never realized how he was impacted on an emotional level.

Scott felt like he couldn't grieve, at least not in front of me, for the loss of my foot. He had to remain strong, steadfast in his support and unwavering in his resolve that I was going to be okay. I learned that he worried and fretted about my future but he felt that he had to put on a positive face at all times. It's ironic because I was trying to be brave for him. I worried that had he known how lost I felt, he would have a more difficult time adjusting.

We were trying to protect each other but, in essence, we were isolating ourselves. We were both feeling the same fears and grieving a loss, yet our desire to "make everything okay" kept us from communicating those fears.

I've been amazed how simply asking how they were coping and validating their feelings can open up a flood of emotions. Asking the simple question of "How are you dealing with this?" can make a world of difference for a loving family member who is struggling to help and to adjust. I have been trying to reach out to the individual in the caregiver role more often because I am beginning to realize how much it means.

Resolution Update

My resolution for 2012 was to be more accepting of my flaws and imperfections while taking better care of my emotional and physical well-being. We are one month into the New Year and, although I have meant well, I have hit some road blocks.

Between family issues, my workman's compensation issues, and various unforeseen health problems, my stress levels have skyrocketed. For many of these issues, the only thing that I can control is my response to the situation. Unfortunately, knowing that worrying is not going to change anything has been little deterrent.

I read several articles about the effectiveness of meditation to relieve anxiety. Throughout my day I have been diligent about trying to take small breaks in my routine so that I can regroup and try to calm down. I've tried to enjoy my minute vacations from reality, but unfortunately my worries keep sneaking up on me when I try conjure happy place. I always end up with a clenched jaw and tight shoulders in my frustrating attempts at relaxing.

I've been unsuccessful meditating, but I have rediscovered the benefits of exercise. Initially I experienced a lot of guilt exercising while Robby was at school. I felt compelled to put my time towards more productive activities, primarily work. When I picked him up from school I wanted to spend time with him and felt guilty taking time to myself. Needless to say, I spent much of his first semester in school feeling a lot of guilt- and not working out.

Since January I have made exercising a daily priority. After I drop off Robby in the morning, I come home and immediately begin my work-out routine. I have decided that I deserve 60 minutes everyday to strengthen my body and relieve my stress. In addition to feeling better, I have shed 6 pounds since Christmas!

Typically I would scold myself for faltering on my resolution. Instead, I am going to congratulate myself for making myself a priority for one hour each day. Meditation might not be my strength, and that's okay. Since I've been rediscovering the stress-busting benefits of exercise, I'm toying with the idea of taking up boxing. Something about hitting a bag hard seems appealing right now. I would try kickboxing, but I'm worried about my leg flying off.

Jumping Scared

Robby has been looking forward to his friend Nick's birthday party for the past month. Nick and Robby became instant friends on the first day of school. My little guy loves a party, but the fact that this was a birthday party for his best friend- and that it was being hosted at Jumping Jimmy's (an inflatable playground for kids)- made the event near monumental in his mind.

Robby immediately began pestering me to take him to the party when he woke up on Saturday. I tried to divert his attention from the party but wasn't successful. By the time we were ready to leave, I'm not sure who was happier-- Robby because he could play with his friend or me because it meant that I didn't have to listen to his constant requests to go!

As soon as we entered the party complex, Robby shed his boots, the present, and his coat before he took off running after Nick and his friends. I was saying hello to Nick's Mom and hanging up Robby's coat when my cell phone rang. I was surprised when I saw my Mom's number on the caller ID because she knew that we were going to a birthday party so I immediately sensed that this was not going to be a good call.

It turns out that my sister Sheri was driving and became dizzy, pulled over and called my mom. By the time my Mom got to her location, my sister was nearly unresponsive. An ambulance was called and my sister was transported to the local hospital.

Hearing that news stopped me in my tracks. I was surrounded by happy jumping five and six year olds, yet I felt like I was in a dream. I was literally numb with fear and worry.

My Mom had no other details, and I knew that there was nothing that I could do. I felt so helpless, but I also knew that dragging Robby away from the party wouldn't accomplish anything other than disappointing him. I stayed at the party and tried to hide my anxiety and fears from the other parents.

Finally, after nearly two hours my Mom called back. It turns out that my sister had developed an infection in a hand laceration which was sustained earlier in the week. The infection caused her to become dizzy and pass out. She was put on heavy IV antibiotics and would undergo surgery to open the wound and clean out the infection.

Immediately my mind jumped to sepsis and the possibility of her losing her hand. I have come to know so many amputees who have lost limbs because of sepsis developing from a seemingly benign cut. I tried to remain upbeat but inside the anxiety was eating me up. I kept conjuring up worst case scenarios, including prosthetic hands. In that moment, the leap from a hand infection to an amputation didn't seem that far.

I hate that my mind instantly jumped to the worst case scenario. I've always considered myself to be an positive person who looks for the silver lining in every situation. In this case I suspect that my experience jaded my reaction. I've come to learn that there is no such thing as a "small" wound infection because it can rapidly spread without notice or cause.

Thankfully my sister's infection is under control and she is resting comfortably She is waking up in the hospital again this morning, but we are expecting her to be released this afternoon. With a continued course of antibiotics and with a freshly cleaned incision we are expecting a full recovery and are counting our blessings!

Just Wrong...

At first glance, this public service ad is seemingly benign because promoting diabetes awareness is a cause I wholeheartedly support. With 507 new amputations occurring every day in this country, trying to increase an understanding between diabetes and limb loss is a noble cause.

However, after reading the accompanying article, I became disturbed by the photograph on the ad. I learned that the amputee on the ad is a PhotoShopped image. The model has both limbs and one was digitally removed for this picture.

I realize that images are digitally altered and enhanced as part of a normal editing process. Real life celebrities rarely resemble their photo images because PhotoShopping has become such an accepted norm. Despite the pervasive altering of images, I find this particular digital "enhancement" abhorrent.

There is an assumption that individuals portrayed on advertisements for "causes" have actually been directly impacted by that which they are promoting. I assume that the women featured on breast cancer commercials, touting to be survivors, have been diagnosed with breast cancer. I don't question the authenticity of these individuals because feigning such a devastating event would be in poor taste and would seem contrary to the awareness-raising endeavor. Using a bi-legged model and digitally removing a limb to create an amputee reeks of insincerity!

There are thousands of diabetic amputees throughout this country who would have been honored to participate in this awareness campaign. Why was somebody chosen who has not been impacted by limb loss to make the poignant connection between diabetes and amputation? With an active amputee community chomping at the bit to educate and to reach out to others, the effectiveness of this ad has been compromised by ignoring the population it is trying desperately to reach! In my opinion, using somebody who has actually experienced this complication would have been more effective and less insulting.

Stinky Business

Yesterday morning Robby came bouncing into the living room, proclaimed that he was all better and asked for waffles for breakfast. He was so sick 24 hours ago that it is amazing how quickly he bounces back with a few doses of antibiotics and ibuprofen in his system. I wish I could recover as quickly!

Although he was feeling better, I knew that Robby was still recovering and needed to stay calm. Despite his protests and begging, I wouldn't let him go outside to play in the stream. He became upset when I wouldn't let him hop in the moon bounce and didn't understand why he wasn't allowed to ride his bike through the neighborhood. All of his ideas involved running, jumping or creating a mess. I wanted him to quietly play and stay calm. We were destined to butt heads all day.

Using logic by trying to explain that his body was still fighting an infection and that he needed to conserve his energy was fruitless. I finally conceded that yes, I was a "mean mean Momom" but that I wasn't changing my mind. I put on a Tom and Jerry cartoon in the living room and retreated to my bedroom for a few moments of quiet.

Enjoying my brief respite, I happily sipped on coffee and caught up on Facebook. All of a sudden I heard little feet tramping down the hallway. Robby ran into my room and quickly slammed the door behind him. This was not a good sign!

Out of breath, Robby said, "Whatever you do Momom, don't go into the living room. Don't ever go into the living room again. Your bedroom is nice. We can just live here. Please, Momom, Please. Don't go out there." Yikes- certainly not the words I wanted to hear. Being that emphatic that I not go somewhere is a surefire sign that he has done something bad.

I put on my leg and walked past my panting little boy. He continued to plea, "Momom, I wouldn't go out there if I were you." I asked him what he had done as I nervously walked down the hallway. He simply muttered, "Oh, this is not going to end good."

Turning the corner to the living room I was overwhelmed with the recognizable stench. I took a sniff and looked at Robby. "Well Momom, I saw stink bugs so I decided to whack them with my yellow hammer. I squished them- and all of their stink- on the walls. I'm sorry. I don't think that squishing the stinky bugs was my best decision."

I spent the next two hours trying to get rid of the odoriferous results of Robby's bug slaughter. The bugs, or rather what was left of them, were scraped off of my walls and thrown outside. I scrubbed the walls with Pine-Sol, adding an evergreen scent to mingle with the bug odor. I tried spraying Lysol, which only provided an artificial fresh linen scent layering over the putrid smells of pine and bugs. The overwhelming mixture of smells was beginning to make me nauseous.

Despite the cold temperature outside, I admitted defeat and opened up the windows. Robby and I retreated to the bedroom while the area aired out. Curling up on my bed to watch Scooby Doo, Robby looked at me and said, "See Momom, I told you. You shouldn't have gone out there. It's better in here." I think tomorrow he'll be well enough to go back to school.

Sick Boy

Robby happily skipped into school Monday morning. After giving me a hug he assumed his assigned position on the green carpet and waved goodbye. He was not the same child when I picked him up.

I took one look at Robby through the classroom window and I instantly knew that something was wrong. He was pale, had deep purple circles and bright red ears. He smiled when he saw me but he was not nearly as animated as normal. His teacher told me that he complained of being dizzy but did not register a fever when she checked. I suspected that would soon change.

Two hours later Robby was sobbing because of the pain in his ears. Seeing Robby's eyes swollen from tears broke my heart. I knew that he was in pain and, aside from trying to offer comfort, I couldn't do anything to make him better. It's so hard being a Mom when your child is hurting!

I made two phone calls. I called his pediatrician who asked me to bring him into the office, and I then called Scott who said that he would meet us there.

Scott was at the pediatrician's office when Robby and I arrived and carried our sick little guy into the office. We were immediately ushered into the examination room. Within minutes the doctor was examining Robby and confirmed my suspicions. Both ears were infected- again!

Although it isn't easy for me, Scott has a particularly difficult time seeing Robby sick. His face instantly melts and his heartache is evident whenever our little guy is in pain or isn't feeling well. When the doctor took Robby's temperature and said that it was 104 degrees, I was fairly confident that my husband was going to faint.

I put Robby down and took Scott's hand. Our pediatrician brought a chair over and instructed Scott to sit down. In a comforting tone she said, "Mr. Chenoweth I need you to take a deep breathe and try to calm down. Here, sit down and try to relax, let me get you a drink of water. It's going to be okay. He is sick now but he will start feeling better as soon as he has the medication." Scott kept shaking his head with worry while muttering, "His little fever is so high... poor little guy."

She handed him a cup of water and the prescription for antibiotics. I was instructed to make sure that they both drink a lot of fluids, stay comfortable and rest. Within a few minutes Scott regained his composure and went to the pharmacy to fill the prescriptions. I took Robby home and tucked him into bed.

Scott always rises to the occasion and earns "Super Dad" stripes when Robby is sick. He had to drive to five pharmacies before locating the ear drops to help alleviate the pain and discomfort. He made sure that the antibiotics were flavored "very cherry" and even had the pharmacist add an extra shot of flavor to the ibuprofen. After the sun went down and we were all in our pajamas Robby asked for SpongeBob macaroni and cheese. Without saying a word, Scott got dressed, put on his coat and drove to the grocery store.

He may not be good at seeing Robby sick, but he is fantastic at helping to make him better! Between the various cherry flavored medications coursing through his system, the ear drops providing numbing relief and a lot of tender loving care, Robby is on the mend. I think after another day at home, he'll be ready to go back to school. In the meantime, I foresee an afternoon of Scooby Doo and The Flintstones is in my future.