This is a comment late in coming. I thought it might be interesting to hear what it was like as Betty's sister watching this whole story unfold.
We all knew that Betty's amputation was a possibility in the last couple of years...it was only said out loud by Betty last winter. It has been very, very difficult watching her go through break after break, cast after cast, bad news days followed by more bad news days.
I knew one thing for sure. The chances of Betty making it to Las Vegas for a planned trip to were slim. I wanted to have a great 50th birthday party for her and we did. Shortly after that, Betty decided to have her amputation and it would be a little before the time that our trip was planned. God's timing is always perfect.
Betty and I share a history of Type I diabetes and kidney/pancreas transplants. We are both veterans and I have to say that I was the more seasoned one until Betty became best friends with Charcot's syndrome. What a shitty condition. I have to admit that while I felt great empathy for Betty over the years, I also felt great fear for myself wondering if the same thing would happen to me. So far, God has not let me share this with her. If she/he does, Betty can be my mentor on this one.
I have been a complete anxiety case for the last year since Betty ended up in her Crowe walkers. I think her maladies on top of caring for my Mom with her Alzheimer's was just too much for my psyche. I have worked with this with a therapist and medication. Sometimes it just is too much to handle by myself.
Eventually, the day came for the surgery. Oh, we had to have a "goodbye to Betty's foot" party which really turned out great. Our family seems to handle stress best by laughing at it. We even had a one-liner contest for Betty's foot. My husband Jim's line won: "It makes it easier to kick the bucket." Like Betty later said, she already has one foot in the grave! Jim won a copy of "Footloose."
I will only comment about the role of being a bystander through Betty's surgery. Mine is not a typical perspective. Besides the health history we share, I often feel like a surrogate Mom for Betty. I know that the thing she would like most she can't have...and that is having her Mom right by her through all this. I try to do what I can...clumsy as I am.
Betty has been incredibly strong through all of these stages. She continues to be strong and tackles everything head on. I guess she is old enough now (like the rest of her siblings) to be described as "one tough old bird."
The scene that will never leave my brain is probably one that Betty can't remember. When we walked into her curtained recovery area she was wide awake. She was talking and saying kind of mundane things. Then she blurted something like "I wonder if I did the right thing," followed by "My toes hurt...my foot hurts...I can feel it!" She was obviouslly feeling the phantom pain we had all heard about.
With that she started crying in a little girl sort of a voice and it tore my heart into little bitty pieces. Beth, Jim and I had tears in our eyes...I think Mike tried hard not to let the tears well.
Beth and I soothed Betty and told her it was finally her turn to cry. Beth and I told Betty that we wanted to look at her residual limb. Betty said she couldn't see past the covers. I asked her if she wanted to see and she said yes.
I was surprised at the clinical feeling I had looking at the bandaged limb. It was amputated about five inches below the knee and I guess I tried to comfort myself by saying "There's a lot of leg there yet!"
Betty stopped crying in a very short time and got on with her life. I am sure that she has had and will have some crying times again as she gets used to her new and better life. For those of us with her that day it was a goodbye party all over again...only it felt like a victory of sorts. Good-bye crappy foot that made my sister miserable and her family feeling helpless for so long. Hello new life and better times.
Betty is so beautiful these days...the absence of pain and stress has been transforming in her physical appearance. Maybe the rest of us can erase a few lines now as we look positively into Betty's and the family's new future.
I don't remember that whole moment only bits and pieces. The sedatives are wonderful to relief stress but they also take memories and turn them into swiss cheese. I remember looking at my leg with you and commenting on how much remained but not much more. I rarely cry because of the loss of my leg. It was diseased and had to go. There is no point in questioning why I suffered Charcot's. I need to save my energy for getting better and moving forward. A new lower limb is in my near future and with it a return to a new normalcy.
Betty, There is nothing but gold at the end of this rainbow. I am happy to read your progress and feel your positive energy. I love you little sister, even though you did ruin my life 50 years ago. (you a little amputation will erase that? I think not!) N:):)
This is a comment late in coming. I thought it might be interesting to hear what it was like as Betty's sister watching this whole story unfold.
ReplyDeleteWe all knew that Betty's amputation was a possibility in the last couple of years...it was only said out loud by Betty last winter. It has been very, very difficult watching her go through break after break, cast after cast, bad news days followed by more bad news days.
I knew one thing for sure. The chances of Betty making it to Las Vegas for a planned trip to were slim. I wanted to have a great 50th birthday party for her and we did. Shortly after that, Betty decided to have her amputation and it would be a little before the time that our trip was planned. God's timing is always perfect.
Betty and I share a history of Type I diabetes and kidney/pancreas transplants. We are both veterans and I have to say that I was the more seasoned one until Betty became best friends with Charcot's syndrome. What a shitty condition. I have to admit that while I felt great empathy for Betty over the years, I also felt great fear for myself wondering if the same thing would happen to me. So far, God has not let me share this with her. If she/he does, Betty can be my mentor on this one.
I have been a complete anxiety case for the last year since Betty ended up in her Crowe walkers. I think her maladies on top of caring for my Mom with her Alzheimer's was just too much for my psyche. I have worked with this with a therapist and medication. Sometimes it just is too much to handle by myself.
Eventually, the day came for the surgery. Oh, we had to have a "goodbye to Betty's foot" party which really turned out great. Our family seems to handle stress best by laughing at it. We even had a one-liner contest for Betty's foot. My husband Jim's line won: "It makes it easier to kick the bucket." Like Betty later said, she already has one foot in the grave! Jim won a copy of "Footloose."
I will only comment about the role of being a bystander through Betty's surgery. Mine is not a typical perspective. Besides the health history we share, I often feel like a surrogate Mom for Betty. I know that the thing she would like most she can't have...and that is having her Mom right by her through all this. I try to do what I can...clumsy as I am.
Betty has been incredibly strong through all of these stages. She continues to be strong and tackles everything head on. I guess she is old enough now (like the rest of her siblings) to be described as "one tough old bird."
The scene that will never leave my brain is probably one that Betty can't remember. When we walked into her curtained recovery area she was wide awake. She was talking and saying kind of mundane things. Then she blurted something like "I wonder if I did the right thing," followed by "My toes hurt...my foot hurts...I can feel it!" She was obviouslly feeling the phantom pain we had all heard about.
With that she started crying in a little girl sort of a voice and it tore my heart into little bitty pieces. Beth, Jim and I had tears in our eyes...I think Mike tried hard not to let the tears well.
Beth and I soothed Betty and told her it was finally her turn to cry. Beth and I told Betty that we wanted to look at her residual limb. Betty said she couldn't see past the covers. I asked her if she wanted to see and she said yes.
I was surprised at the clinical feeling I had looking at the bandaged limb. It was amputated about five inches below the knee and I guess I tried to comfort myself by saying "There's a lot of leg there yet!"
Betty stopped crying in a very short time and got on with her life. I am sure that she has had and will have some crying times again as she gets used to her new and better life. For those of us with her that day it was a goodbye party all over again...only it felt like a victory of sorts. Good-bye crappy foot that made my sister miserable and her family feeling helpless for so long. Hello new life and better times.
Betty is so beautiful these days...the absence of pain and stress has been transforming in her physical appearance. Maybe the rest of us can erase a few lines now as we look positively into Betty's and the family's new future.
I don't remember that whole moment only bits and pieces. The sedatives are wonderful to relief stress but they also take memories and turn them into swiss cheese. I remember looking at my leg with you and commenting on how much remained but not much more. I rarely cry because of the loss of my leg. It was diseased and had to go. There is no point in questioning why I suffered Charcot's. I need to save my energy for getting better and moving forward. A new lower limb is in my near future and with it a return to a new normalcy.
ReplyDeleteBetty,
ReplyDeleteThere is nothing but gold at the end of this rainbow. I am happy to read your progress and feel your positive energy. I love you little sister, even though you did ruin my life 50 years ago. (you a little amputation will erase that? I think not!) N:):)