I want to just unbuckle the fly and say "ahhhhhhhhh."
Unfortunately that "fly" does not exist as we are talking leg, not pants. Disappointed? Absolutely. However I was studying the shape of the "residual limb" last night and realized how puffy it was. Even this morning I was pretty sure that getting the liner on would be a bust. I did, however put the OLD liner on when I went to bed, so knew I would be able to tolerate it after the initial burn.
Once again, dear readers, you are going to get to read and learn a bit of the joys of being a gimp.
Following amputation surgery I was put in a cast to contain the swelling. On the base of the cast was a fitting where a pipe and foot could be attached. Once I was able to get up I was taken to PT and began to put weight on the new-to-me foot. (As the healing progressed and the swelling went down I was put in a series of seven different legs the first year. Thank goodness for research! I remember that I dubbed each "Leonard." Bill Cosby had done a movie around that time that was titled "Leonard Part Eight;" likely something Mr. Cosby wants to forget as much as I do my rehab; sorry, I digress.) The first three or four steps, in the early days, caused an incredible burning, searing, pain with each step. Soon my brain was able to take it all in and I realized that after the first three or four steps it was something I could deal with. I remember laying in bed knowing that I had to get up and going, but dreading those first few steps. Whether it was desensitization or decreased edema, I know not; over time it stopped being an issue. Almost immediately I spent eight, ten, twelve hours in the prosthesis. As I meander in the deep, dark, crevices of my memory let me say that this whole thing is about the "burn"...It's baaack. sigh.
So, this morning, as soon as I awoke, I put the new liner on. I looked at that thing and saw how teeny, tiny it was at the base and thought there would be no way I could do it, but I was wrong. It is on and has been for two hours. I was so excited. Then I went out to the laundry room where my koi painted leg was sitting on the dryer. I cannot even get the stump into the leg far enough for the bolt to catch. So I sit here at the computer. I sit with stump shoved into fishy limb. A couple of times a minute I stomp my left side in hopes of driving "me" into "it" deep enough for the bolt to catch and the leg to stay on. Let's see, in two hours I am still far from it. Every five to ten minutes I stand up and try putting all my weight on it in hopes of driving it down farther. (I have a feeling I may be here a long time.) With each centimeter (optimism) it goes deeper, the burn lets itself be known. The memories flood back. Funny how pain brands itself in the memory. We forget until it is back, then we think "oh yeah...I remember that!" Like labor, ladies. If you had more than one child you remember when that first "real" contraction hits; "oh yeah (or perhaps it is "oh crap") I remember this!"
So my goal for the day seems a simple one. Get the pants buckled. I just didn't think. I have four days before I leave. The truck will not magically load itself. The dog will not bathe herself. Once this leg is securely attached it will not be coming off until bedtime. Period. Walking will just happen. It will not happen, however, until I manage to force the square peg through the round hole.
Would this be what the doctor was thinking when he said "take it slowly?" Hmmmmmm. It seems he fed me a bit too much turkey and pumpkin pie!
G2 (who just heard a faint "click." Darn that sweet success hurts!)