Lost a Limb, Found Myself
In April of this year, I lost the lower part of my leg to a below the knee amputation. My partner, in one of her mentally abusive phases, and two people we were staying with, contributed to this problem by keeping me scared and confused. We had moved half way across the country for a new start, and the stress of the trip, coupled with daibetes and filthy living conditions contributed to the start of a nasty staph infection that eventaully turned to gangrene, and totally destroyed my left foot. By the time I felt I was in a safe space to be treated, the foot was dead, and gone down to bare bone in some places. the amputation was done in two stages, the infection was so bad. the first merely opened the leg up by removing the foot, to allow the infection to be wicked out , and give us a chance to save the rest of the leg, below the knee.
I have grown a lot since the amputation. I adapted well to the wheelchair, found my voice to speak up with, for myself, and the courage to offer my experiences to others, in order to help them come to terms.
People feel I am amazing. Not really. I just did what I had to do. In order to get past the wheelchair, to the prosthetic, I had to live the entire experience, embrace the changes, adapt to them, and realize I was still a viable human being. I even find jokes to crack about the situation.