I wasn’t nearly as afraid when I was in the thick of it. I knew what was stacked against me. I understood the odds were not in my favor yet I didn’t constantly think about dying. I knew I wanted to live. Once I realized I may lose as much as both legs I tried to figure out how to live with it. Even at the time when I couldn’t move at all and I couldn’t feel from the waste down, I still tried to manage in my head how to live that way. If for some reason I didn’t regain feeling and movement, I never once thought being bedbound was a reason to die.
Today an occupational therapist said that if she was bedbound for life she wouldn’t want to live. My first thought was, wow, how insensitive. I spent 45 days totally bedbound, only able to move my hands, arms, shoulders and head. I couldn’t feel touch but I could feel a lot of pain. The only time I wanted to be dead was when I’d been at a level 10 pain for days on end. I didn’t think my body could take anymore and I prayed to die. Level 10 pain was the problem, not mobility.
This body has walked a thousand miles and back. It’s tired but slowly healing. The more I heal, the more questions I have. One question I have seems shallow but, I wonder if I’ll ever feel pretty? Will I be able to wear a skirt that doesn’t hide the amputation? Will I kick back with my shoes off, skirt flowing to the side and feel pretty like girls do, like I used to? Can I still appreciate a lavender bath with one foot? I used to have a very proud and confident walk, will that change?
Despite all the changes, all the hardships, I hope the part of me that fights will always fight, and with ferocity!
What others need to live, legs, total independence, whatever they need to live, so be it. I’m happy to know I’m more than my legs or feet. It takes more than the loss of limbs to take this girl down.
I’m still standing!
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