Happy Annivesary

On this day eight years ago, I walked for the last time.

You see, I’m a diabetic which, among other things, slows the bodies healing process, especially in the lower extremities.

I’m also very stubborn when it comes to health care. I always thought I was invincible but my stubbornness led to my demise.

I developed a small blister on the bottom of my right foot which quickly became infected. Being the hard head I am, I refused to seek medical attention and chose to try and doctor myself at home.

Not a good idea.

The infection spread and soon became gangrene causing a large hole in the bottom of  my foot. I began to limp noticeably and, when questioned by family and friends, I told them what was going on and finally gave in and let them take me to the doctor

My family doctor took one look at my foot and told me that I was in trouble if we didn’t do something about this soon. She referred me to a surgeon and I was transported to the hospital.

After a series of tests and x-rays, the surgeon declared that the gangrene was spreading and the only way to stop it was amputation.

I pleaded with him for an alternative but he was insistent that amputation was the only way to keep me from dying within days.

Faced with this decision, I thought of my four year old kids who I left with my brother-in-law to come to the hospital and knew I could not die and leave them for their mother to raise so I reluctantly agreed to the surgery.

I was wheeled to the operating room where the anesthesiologist gave me something to help me relax. Then she informed me that she was going to give me an epidural to deaden the lower part of my body.

Now I have all the respect in the world  for you ladies who choose the epidural for pain relief during child birth because mine was the most painful part of the entire process.

First, I had to sit on the table with my back arched like a scared cat. Then, when she went to insert the needle into my spine, she realized the needle was not long enough but dug around for what seemed like an eternity until she finally hit pay dirt.

I then laid on the table while she started the drugs that deadened the lower part of my body from the pelvis down.

Next she gave me some happy juice to calm me further as the staff that would assist with the surgery came in. I asked them if I would be allowed to keep the leg after it was removed to which one of the nurses responded, “that’s sick!”

You are about to watch doc sawbones cut my leg off with a Poulan and I’m sick?

They asked what I would do with it to which I responded that I’d have it bronzed and hang it over the mantle.

I later received a bill from the state to properly dispose of the limb. It was much more than I would have paid a taxidermist to preserve it for me.

When the surgeon came in I asked him if I got a prosthesis when this was over if I’d be able to play golf. He said he didn’t see why not.

Good cause I suck at it now.

It was now time for the surgery and I was put into a deep sleep. I don’t know if I dreamed this but I swear at one point I woke up and heard the saw buzzing. I tried to look over the curtain draped over me but the anesthesiologist quickly administered more meds and I was out again.

When I woke up in recovery to the sounds of Teddy Pendergrass in the background, I was told they were removing the epidural. I braced myself for what I was sure would be excruciating pain but I only felt numb.

I was then taken to intensive care for overnight observation and on the way I noticed several familiar faces lining the hallway. My friends and family had called everyone they could think of and most of them showed up to hold vigil.

Being in intensive care, I was only allowed two visitors at a time and they filed in for what seemed like hours into the night. The outpouring of love was overwhelming.

The next morning, I was deemed fit to be placed in a regular room and I was taken to one that would be home for the next month.

I underwent two more surgical procedures while I was there. One to cut more off the stump to shape it for a prosthesis and the other to graft skin to the stump.

The shaping proved unproductive as three different doctors told me it was unfit for a prosthesis so I was faced with the prospect of never walking again.

And I haven’t. For the past eight years.