This is a Christian romantic fiction. College student Sarah Stoker is involved in a horrific accident that leaves her disabled. The stranger who saves her life at the accident scene becomes a significant ally as she struggles to accept her new reali...
It turns out to be a pleasant evening. We find an old movie on TV and watch it together, making minimal small talk. By the time it's over, I'm completely wasted. I'm not used to getting so tired easily. It makes me feel like my body is betraying me.
My mom and dad say good-night, noticing that I'm fading fast.
"See you tomorrow, mi corazon," my mom says. And my dad kisses my cheek.
The next day, after ADL's and another physical therapy session, Dr. Fischer stops in to check on my stump of a right leg. Another doctor follows in behind him.
"Sarah, I'd like you to meet Dr. Philip Nash," Dr. Fischer says.
Dr. Nash reaches out his hand and says, "Nice to meet you, Sarah."
"Likewise," I say.
Dr. Fischer continues. "He will be taking over as your doctor now that you're situated in therapy. You'll still have some follow ups with me so I can make sure your leg is healing properly. Dr. Nash is a physiatrist, and he'll be overseeing your rehabilitation."
"Physiatrist. There's a new word," I say with a small smirk.
"Technically, I'm a specialist in physical medicine and rehabilitation. You can call me that or just a PM&R doctor, or physiatrist works too," he tells me smiling. He's pretty cute. And young. I wonder if a lot of eligible men are entering the health profession, because Patrick is a looker, too.
"I think I'll just stick with Dr. Nash," I tell him and he laughs.
Unfortunately, neither of them got the memo that I'm not ready to see my stump au naturel. Dr. Fischer tells me that if it looks like it's healing well enough, he may dress it more lightly. He will also teach me how to care for it and change the dressings myself.
"I don't really want to see it yet," I tell him, my throat going dry.
Dr. Fischer is gentle, but insistent. "I know it must be scary for you, but it's part of your body. You will have to get used to it eventually."
I gulp down my apprehension, take a deep breath and nod. For just a brief moment, I have a thought that takes me by surprise: I wish Ethan were here to hold my hand.
Dr. Fischer gently unwinds and pulls away the bandages while Dr. Nash looks on. When he gets to the last layer, I tell him that I almost fainted when I first felt it. He asks the nurse to bring me a bin in case I feel the need to vomit.
That's encouraging.
As Dr. Fischer peels away the last bit of gauze, I brace myself. However, I'm surprised at how clean my skin looks. I was expecting an ugly, jagged scar. Instead I find my normal skin with a neat line of stitches along the bottom of the stump. The skin looks like it must have closed up a lot since the accident. It still feels weird to think that this is part of my body, but I'm not nearly as freaked out as I thought I would be. Not at all, really.
I breathe in a huge sigh of relief.
"See? Not so bad, is it?" Dr. Fischer smiles at me.
"No, it's not," I agree. I mean, it's still kind of disorienting to not see the rest of my leg in place, but it's not gory or gross in the way I thought it would be.
It turns out that one of the bandages that was on my leg was a firm piece of elastic called a shrinker. Dr. Fischer had put it on a few days after surgery, before I woke up. He tells me that it helps to prevent swelling in my stump. Then he shows me how to put another one on, telling me that I will have to take care to do it right or it could cause more damage. That's enough to make me pay close attention.
"Stretch the lower half of the shrinker firmly up your thigh," he begins. "Then you pull the top half up the rest of the way. Be careful to spread it evenly because you won't be able to feel how tight it is with the numbing medication in your leg. Dr. Nash will check on it daily, too, to make sure there are no problems."
I'm glad he's doing it while he talks me through it. I hate to think of doing any further damage to my leg. But he makes the process look easy enough that my anxiety about it quickly diminishes. In addition, he shows me how to check it periodically for areas that maybe irritated or not fitted correctly.
I find it a little bit odd that there is so much involved in taking care of a leg that's no longer there. But the strangest part of the whole process is when I tell the doctor who cut my leg off, "You did a good job."
* * * * *
While I was writing this book, I "met" (it was a virtual meeting) a lovely, tenacious and inspiring girl named Rachel Schneemann (now Rachel Thornton). She is a recent amputee, and she provided me with invaluable insight into the life of an amputee.
In the YouTube video above, she's the amputee walking her dog at the very end. It's a commercial for St. Joseph Mercy Health System in Southwest Michigan, one of the best in the country.
Check out her blog, https://myelephantsintheroom.wordpress.com.
You're sure to be inspired :D
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