The Backstory

There are many people who recently started following my story. I guess when friends start sharing about how they know someone who is dealing with a leg amputation, people become curious and want to learn more! I am blown away by how many people care enough to read my updates and walk with me on this journey called life. For those who want some background information on why I had to have an amputation, though, here you go…

When I was twelve years old, I was diagnosed with a chronic pain disorder called Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy (RSD), also called Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS). The short version of this is that I sprained my ankle in a three-legged race at summer camp and instead of getting better within a few days, my nerves went haywire and began to send crazy signals of pain and swelling to my left leg. It would take much too long to go into the process of what happened after that, but I basically ended up losing the use of every part of my body as a result of it. Eventually I went into remission and enjoyed being able to live a mostly normal life…well, at least in the pain department.

Fast forward six years to September 3, 2012. I had just spent the past few days going through new student orientation at college. I was happier than I had been in a long time. I felt peace and thanked God for giving me a break from the chaos in my past. Little did I know that things would soon take a sharp turn into a new chapter of my medical adventures. On the evening of September 3, I participated in a dorm event that required us to jump/walk into the on-campus pond. It was dark out and I thought the pond was pretty deep, so I jumped right in, not realizing how shallow it was. The next thing I knew, I was on the side of the pond, writhing in pain. My RSD/CRPS had returned…only this time it was in my right leg from the knee down.

I soon began physical therapy in an attempt to go back into remission, but after both inpatient and outpatient physical therapy, along with a variety of other therapies, procedures, and medications, nothing was helping. I developed an ankle contracture that would have required surgery to fix. I was also developing a knee contracture. My leg was swollen, sensitive, and not getting any better. After taking a year off of school for treatments, I decided that I didn’t want to waste any more time searching for help. Instead, I registered for classes and went back to college.

My skin on my foot started breaking down at the beginning of 2014. It began with a foot ulcer that progressively got worse. In June, I finally went to a doctor to see if they could help with my leg. They sent me away. I decided to try to enjoy my summer as my foot continued to worsen. In August, things were getting much worse. I thought I had developed a skin infection, so my parents took me to the emergency room. I was tossed around and told that I was fine since I didn’t have a fever. I still felt uneasy about things so after seeing my primary doctor, I went to see my specialists in Cleveland.

When I went to Cleveland, I expected the doctors and therapists to help me to create a treatment plan that would work. Instead, I was given a new diagnosis…Lymphedema. I was told that I needed to see a Lymphedema therapist to wrap my leg and hopefully reduce the swelling. I was pretty upset by the situation because I didn’t want to have to deal with another diagnosis. However, I went home and a few weeks later I found myself in the Lymphedema clinic.

During this time, things were going downhill quickly. The wounds took up half my foot and drained uncontrollably. It was awkward and embarrassing to always deal with bandages and leaks. I did some laser treatment and had my leg wrapped at the clinic for a couple of weeks, but then I was sent to a vascular surgeon because the wounds were getting to be too much.

On November 14, I sat in a new doctor’s office. I wasn’t sure what might happen, but I certainly wasn’t prepared for Dr. Hero (no, that’s not his real name, but he is my hero) to recommend amputation. I burst into tears when the word came out of his mouth, but tried to control myself enough to listen to what he was saying. I wasn’t ready for such a permanent change, so I told him I’d like to try other options first. I had a few visits with the nurse there for medicated wraps and compression bandages on my leg. My mom wanted to set up an appointment with the doctor to discuss things, so against my wishes, I scheduled an appointment for my parents to join in on the conversation.

 The family appointment was originally scheduled for December 1. Thankfully, my mom pushed for an earlier appointment so that we could have some answers and information to tell my siblings when we visited them in Delaware for Thanksgiving. We ended up driving to the office on November 24, the day that life as I knew it changed completely.

On the way to the doctor, my mom and I chatted a bit. We knew that amputation was one of the things that would come up in the discussion. I had read some stories about amputees and tried to prepare myself for the conversation, remembering that it would be a choice. I didn’t have to go through with it. Or so I thought. I informed my mom that if I were to have this surgery, it would be a positive thing. I didn’t want to become down and depressed about it. I was ready to fight.

When I unwrapped my leg in front of my doctor, he became concerned. Noticing redness and an increased temperature, combined with the fact that my pain had increased to the point of not sleeping at all the past two days, Dr. Hero told me that things were not looking good. I had contracted an infection that would have easily destroyed my leg and taken my life if things went any further. “I need to admit you. I’m really sorry,” he said, telling me that he’d like to do surgery that day. “No, that’s too soon. Can we wait until tomorrow?” I begged. He agreed to my request, as long as I was admitted for antibiotics that day. I went home to pack my things, swung by the salon to get my hair cut (we’ll save that post for another day), and soon found myself in room 806, ready to take on life’s newest challenge.

 It would take too long to go into every detail, but that’s the shortened version of how I now find myself staring at a stumplet instead of a whole right leg 🙂 Life after amputation is still a bumpy road, but it is better than I could have imagined. Those fear-filled tears in the doctor’s office would have stopped right away if I knew just how amazing my life would become once I went under the knife…er, saw? Let’s not think about that part 😉