Amputee Lemonade
Warning: The F-Bomb is dropped in the following post but if you are an amputee, this is likely your favorite word anyways...
I admit it. I have allowed my anxiety to take hold of me in the past. I worried about things long before my worst nightmares became a reality. I missed out on experiences and opportunities because of fear. The world can be a terrifying place and I will not deny that. My anxieties aren’t gone. I’m still afraid of rollercoasters and Interstate 4 in Orlando. But Friday the 13th is my favorite day and when a hurricane is on the way I look forward to the excitement of hearing the storm roaring outside. I am many things and that makes me human. I am also someone who has learned to laugh at things I cannot control. Life is a scary, beautiful mess and sometimes we have to throw our hands up.
As a new amputee, I am only beginning to experience some of the challenges that come along with missing a limb. I lost count of the number of times I have tried to walk and forgot I wasn’t wearing my prosthetic. There was the time I slipped in the bathroom and tried to catch myself with my nonexistent right leg and the times my residual limb lost so much volume throughout the day that I completely slipped out of my prosthetic. I haven’t traveled yet but I’m sure airport security will be a doozy. Putting clothes and shoes on myself is harder than dressing a cranky toddler who just woke up from a nap. People always want to know why I’m using crutches and ask if I twisted an ankle or something. I will tell you that making up wild and elaborate stories is the best. Don’t let strangers force you to relive something you are still healing from if you're not ready. Tell them you saved a baby from a polar bear attack or got your leg stuck in a crevice at the top of Mount Everest. It’s rude for strangers to ask anyway...
The day before my surgery my best friend gifted me with a pair of fuzzy socks. One said, “fuck” and the other “cancer”. This is made even funnier by the fact that she ordered them for me before we knew I would have to have my leg amputated and they were so delayed in the mail that they arrived the day before said amputation would take place. Since I would only be able to wear one of them, I decided the “fuck” sock was the obvious choice. It’s now my favorite sock because “fuck cancer”. And also because it's a word I tend to yell often lately before laughing (mostly so I don't cry). Let’s all agree to laugh at ourselves, make amputee lemonade when life throws us lemons and wear the “fuck” sock when we need to.
