Dealing with the depression that comes with something as negative as an amputation can be very difficult. I mentioned one vet I knew who was a double below the knee amputee who checked out. It overwhelmed him and he lost hope. Hope keeps you going.
That's the only thing that kept me going for about six months ending six months ago. I had a delayed reaction to the amputation. I got depressed and even suicidal three years after I lost my right leg above the knee. I wasn't in pain like the vet mentioned in the previous paragraph, but I got overwhelmed with the prospect of getting old and soon being unable to take care of myself and having to go into a nursing home. Its something that many people face, especially since 40% of all house holds in the United States are headed by a single person. While many of these people have friends and family close to them, I didn't. One day after a bad day in the dentists chair, the anxiety just washed over me and I had to call mental health at the va, and check into the hospital for a week. Actually I was fine the next day, but my psychiatrist was worried about me and wouldn't let me go home. Note that I wasn't irrational or dangerous (except to myself), I was just having a major anxiety attack, and felt overwhelmed. I didn't have a plan or a means to off myself, but I knew I was on shaky ground, so I checked myself in. So, after being bored for a week (theres nothing to do in the hospital but watch tv), they let me go home and after some therapy and in a few more months I came out of the depression.
But, I still didn't have much of a future. What I faced was a long slow physical and mental decline leading to institutionalization. Well, thats what a nursing home is. No matter how many sing-a-longs they have, how many visits from therapy dogs or cats, or even how many visits from friends and loved ones, you don't have independence. You are warehoused.
So, I did some thinking. I came to realize over some weeks that I needed a purpose and direction to keep going. I saw a Ted x talk by a ninety three year old man who said he thought you needed work, diet and exercise (in that order) to keep going and live a long and enjoyable life. I would add that you need love too.
I decided to start a blog, and that lead to the idea of a video blog on You-tube, and to video myself touring on the recumbent adult tadpole trike (two wheels in front, one in back that drives it) the va gave me to have a form of aerobic exercise. I watched You-tube videos galore. I got a notion of what made a good one and a bad one. I decided to start video recording anything I thought entertaining and interesting. I knew I'd have to be bad before I was good enough to get any kind of following. So I started video recording everything I could do with one hand. Well, not everything, if you get my drift. I'm 70 years old. That's not very interesting, even to me, anymore. And I've not posted any. I'm just using my phone's camera. Got to make one interesting before I post it.
So, that's the plan. Blog, video blog and post, and start a web site, so if I get any kind of following, people have a place to go see??? What. well, touring books, repair how to videos, who knows. The point is, it gives me a purpose.
Thursday, January 15, 2015
Thursday, January 8, 2015
actually its spelled Kirkpa-t r-ick not r-t.
I started this blog to express some thoughts on life as a typical amputee. The name means one who is an amputee and spends most of his time as a couch potato. Ampu-tater. Yes, I misspelled that word too when I selected the title of the blog. lol. I am a poor speller , but I believe I'm a typical amputee because I'm not like those portrayed on tv or in the movies. I don't run marathons. I'm not fit. I have a prosthesis that I don't use because it no longer fits. I've gained 40 pounds since the amputation. I'm not a young buck that is athletic. I'm older (70s) and because of a lifetime of injuries I live on ibuprofen because of all my aches and pains. My back is screwed up (stenosis, scholiosis). That said, I think I can give hope and inspiration to people living with limitations in that I have overcome many road blocks to living a healthy, happy life. I've been thru the depression that most often comes (sooner or later) to us as folks with real limitations we have to adapt to. And, I think friends and family of amputees can gain insights into what their loved one is going thru. But first my story. That'll lead into helpful hints, both that I've discovered myself or gleaned from a variety of sources. I'm a vet, and they specialize in getting amputees back on their foot. Yea, foot not feet.
I lost my right leg above the knee due to a blood clot that lead to an infection that didn't respond to antibiotics. The infection lead to gangrene. The docs fucked up. They should have caught the gangrene before it spread all the way up my leg. They could have saved my knee, which would have made life nearer to normal. Not normal. I don't mean to slight below the knee amputees, as they have a tough row to hoe too. And since you (defacto) can't sue the government (you can, but it takes high powered attorneys and I couldn't get any interested) I got no compensation for their mistakes. I do have an application in for VA benefits, but it hasn't been resolved one way or another yet. I live hand to mouth on Social Security like many Seniors, getting the average benefit of about $1200 a month ($1282 to be exact) and $130 for hearing loss from the VA that is service connected. Yea, I'm pretty much an open book. I'm not afraid of others opinions.
Living as an amputee is very annoying. I like to say "its not the end of the world, but it is a damned inconvenience". For starters it takes about 40% more effort to walk with a prosthesis than with two natural legs. Your wheel chair won't fit many places (they even have handicapped apartments because its difficult to live in a normal one), and you're constantly running into the walls and door jams. I have to back out of parts of my apartment because I can't turn my wheelchair around in them. Heck, even the local va hospital has normal sized doors. I've been here, in my place, for 8 1/2 years and I'm still looking for a handicapped apartment. People don't give them up until they die, because they are too few and hard to find. And there are some parts of town I can't go to because the sidewalk ramps are non-existent. Some older stores I can't get in the front door. And forget curbs, unless there happen to be a couple of burly guys to haul you up and down them. I live in fear of fires in buildings of more than one story. Basically, I'll have to wait for the fire department to haul me out in a fireman's carry (slung over a fireman's shoulder). Still, before the American Disabled Act was passed forty years ago, people were confined to their own city block, or forced to use driveways and go down into the street with the auto traffic. And then I blew out my shoulders propelling myself around in my manual chair: I stuck with the manual chair because it was good exercise (try a hill on arm power). Now I have a power chair, but I still use my manual chair in the tight confines of my apartment as the power chair is just too big for it.
But, I consider myself lucky, as the VA has paid for everything. I gestimate I'm into them for a couple of hundred thousand bucks ($25,000 for my prosthesis, alone). If I was medicare, the co-pays would mean I was S.O.L. with regard to care. The four years and two months in the Navy were a good investment. (I got extended two months during the build up to the Vietnam War.)
Bitch, bitch, I know. Venting is good for you. The VA provides therapy too to me, as they do to all amputees, so we can deal with a major life fuck.
Still, I'm incredibly lucky. I've come out the other side of the worst of it happy and relatively healthy.
I know one guy (a double below the knee amputee) who checked out. He was in constant pain. I only occasionally have phantom pains. Phantom pain is an apparent pain in the amputated limb that has no physical cause (except the amputation) and can't be treated medically. Oh, they give you antidepressants, but they don't always work, or so I'm told. Like I said, I'm lucky.
And people an so very kind. They will offer to get stuff off high shelves in stores for you, and rush to open doors, and offer to push you up the aforementioned hills, if you're in a manual chair. And women are the nicest. I get genuine smiles all the time. If I'm in a bad mood, getting outside among 'em will improve my attitude very quickly. I even had a checker in a supermarket (whom I'd never met) kick in $40 bucks on my grocery bill when I came up short, and I believe it was because I am in a wheelchair. I used to intimidate people because of my size, but now instead of towering over them, I'm down here and more accessible. Kids are curious, but I've yet to find a good explanation for a complicated medical series of events. If I say I had an infection, then I'm sure when they get a cut, and Mom has to wash it out, and the kid is told it has to be done to avoid an infection, I imagine it scares them, as they may worry about getting the body part cut off. And try explaining a blood clot to a six year old. So, mostly I say I got a real bad ouchie.
But, like I said, I'm lucky. I could be dead.
I lost my right leg above the knee due to a blood clot that lead to an infection that didn't respond to antibiotics. The infection lead to gangrene. The docs fucked up. They should have caught the gangrene before it spread all the way up my leg. They could have saved my knee, which would have made life nearer to normal. Not normal. I don't mean to slight below the knee amputees, as they have a tough row to hoe too. And since you (defacto) can't sue the government (you can, but it takes high powered attorneys and I couldn't get any interested) I got no compensation for their mistakes. I do have an application in for VA benefits, but it hasn't been resolved one way or another yet. I live hand to mouth on Social Security like many Seniors, getting the average benefit of about $1200 a month ($1282 to be exact) and $130 for hearing loss from the VA that is service connected. Yea, I'm pretty much an open book. I'm not afraid of others opinions.
Living as an amputee is very annoying. I like to say "its not the end of the world, but it is a damned inconvenience". For starters it takes about 40% more effort to walk with a prosthesis than with two natural legs. Your wheel chair won't fit many places (they even have handicapped apartments because its difficult to live in a normal one), and you're constantly running into the walls and door jams. I have to back out of parts of my apartment because I can't turn my wheelchair around in them. Heck, even the local va hospital has normal sized doors. I've been here, in my place, for 8 1/2 years and I'm still looking for a handicapped apartment. People don't give them up until they die, because they are too few and hard to find. And there are some parts of town I can't go to because the sidewalk ramps are non-existent. Some older stores I can't get in the front door. And forget curbs, unless there happen to be a couple of burly guys to haul you up and down them. I live in fear of fires in buildings of more than one story. Basically, I'll have to wait for the fire department to haul me out in a fireman's carry (slung over a fireman's shoulder). Still, before the American Disabled Act was passed forty years ago, people were confined to their own city block, or forced to use driveways and go down into the street with the auto traffic. And then I blew out my shoulders propelling myself around in my manual chair: I stuck with the manual chair because it was good exercise (try a hill on arm power). Now I have a power chair, but I still use my manual chair in the tight confines of my apartment as the power chair is just too big for it.
But, I consider myself lucky, as the VA has paid for everything. I gestimate I'm into them for a couple of hundred thousand bucks ($25,000 for my prosthesis, alone). If I was medicare, the co-pays would mean I was S.O.L. with regard to care. The four years and two months in the Navy were a good investment. (I got extended two months during the build up to the Vietnam War.)
Bitch, bitch, I know. Venting is good for you. The VA provides therapy too to me, as they do to all amputees, so we can deal with a major life fuck.
Still, I'm incredibly lucky. I've come out the other side of the worst of it happy and relatively healthy.
I know one guy (a double below the knee amputee) who checked out. He was in constant pain. I only occasionally have phantom pains. Phantom pain is an apparent pain in the amputated limb that has no physical cause (except the amputation) and can't be treated medically. Oh, they give you antidepressants, but they don't always work, or so I'm told. Like I said, I'm lucky.
And people an so very kind. They will offer to get stuff off high shelves in stores for you, and rush to open doors, and offer to push you up the aforementioned hills, if you're in a manual chair. And women are the nicest. I get genuine smiles all the time. If I'm in a bad mood, getting outside among 'em will improve my attitude very quickly. I even had a checker in a supermarket (whom I'd never met) kick in $40 bucks on my grocery bill when I came up short, and I believe it was because I am in a wheelchair. I used to intimidate people because of my size, but now instead of towering over them, I'm down here and more accessible. Kids are curious, but I've yet to find a good explanation for a complicated medical series of events. If I say I had an infection, then I'm sure when they get a cut, and Mom has to wash it out, and the kid is told it has to be done to avoid an infection, I imagine it scares them, as they may worry about getting the body part cut off. And try explaining a blood clot to a six year old. So, mostly I say I got a real bad ouchie.
But, like I said, I'm lucky. I could be dead.
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