Saga of the Foot - Part 6

Y'know what I forgot? The actual cause of the ceaseless fluid leak prior to my amputation. Well, once my foot was removed, it was sent off to a pathology lab, where it was subjected to several tests, and... I'm kidding. It was immediately sent as biohazardous waste to be incinerated. While it might have been interesting to know the cause, the point was moot. The foot had to go. The foot went. End of story.

But when the doctor told me the foot had been incinerated, I did joke that I'd changed my mind and wanted it reattached.

My recovery from the surgery was prolonged by a mystery. With there being absolutely no source, a blister formed on the underside of my residual limb. The picture I'm about to show you is post op, just before the staples were removed. You'll note there are plenty of stitches that would remain for another couple of weeks.

I've circled the blister for your

viewing pleasure.

Blisters are usually the result of something constantly rubbing the site or a severe burn. We didn't know it at the time, but this was a diabetic blister. Do you know what causes diabetic blisters? No, I'm actually asking you, just as I did with diabetic neuropathy. Because no one really knows; I was hoping maybe you had the answer. They appear on the extremities for no apparent reason, so that's one more thing to be vigilant about if you're not controlling your blood sugars.

Fun, right?

After three long months of post op healing, I was finally given clearance to get fitted for my first prosthetic. Off I went to the orthotics lab, where I was given... a limb shrinker! I wish I had a picture of the one I used, but I never took one. Don't fret, though, because I looked up a generic one for you!

One limb shrinker

shrinking a limb.

Maintenance of one's residual limb is important. Even after all the incisions from surgery have healed, there's going to be significant swelling. Despite the fact that your eyes can see it and your conscious mind acknowledges it, your body doesn't know that your foot is gone. It needs to be retrained to recognize that it doesn't need all of that extra blood, oxygen, and nutrients. And what better way to retrain it than with some Lycra to strangle your flesh?

For the first couple of weeks, I faithfully wore my limb shrinker day and night. Then I got annoyed. I wasn't sleeping through the night because I'd bend what was left of my leg in my sleep, causing the Lycra to bunch up at the knee, and it would pinch my skin painfully. In all honesty, I have enough reasons to be taking powerful painkillers. I was NOT going to add irritation from a leg shrinker to the list.

On my next visit to the prosthetist, I told him that I was wearing the shrinker for most of the day, but that there'd be no convincing me to wear it at night. Because of my stubbornness, my residual limb might not be small today, but I'm not overly concerned about that. When I get to remove a source of pain from my ever-growing list, I'm a happier camper.

A mold was made of my stump and I returned two weeks later for my first official fitting. This was it. I was getting my first new leg! Adjustments to the socket and the angle of the foot were made, and then, for the first time in six months, I WALKED! I was a little stiff and shaky at first, but the prosthetist was impressed at how quickly I was able to start taking regular steps. He said that 80% of new amputees tend to simply forget how to walk. Obviously, I hadn't. Although... After my first few hesitant steps, I stopped and did an imitation of Peter Boyle from Young Frankenstein, shouting the strangled line, "PUHHIN ON DA REEEZ!" (Movie trivia: No one was sure what the creature should say, so Peter Boyle improvised the line and comedy history was made!) The prosthetist thought it was hysterical.

My first month with my new leg was a pain in the tuchas. It was a struggle every day to get the pin on the leg cover to line up with the hole at the bottom of the socket.

The prosthetic as a whole.

The notched pin. It is NOT a screw.

The hole at the bottom of the socket.

Can you see why it might be a problem at first? Once the leg cover with the pin on the end was inside the socket, I could no longer see my target. Putting it on each day was a 5 to 10 minute ordeal. I commented once that I wished the socket was transparent, but the prosthetist said that they couldn't make the carbon fiber socket see-through.

Fiber. Carbon. Socket. You have no idea how much abuse this thing can take. Obviously you shouldn't try to damage your prosthetic, but someone experimented. She explains that it's the epoxy that eventually burns, not the carbon fiber. 

Aside from the obvious reason of why you shouldn't try to damage your detachable leg, since you kind of need it to walk, is the price. Gods above and below, THE PRICE! Being on Medicare, I get a lot of mail that starts off with, "This is not a bill." It's Medicare's friendly way of saying, "If you didn't have us, this is what your medical expenses would look like." Well, I got one of those for my leg, and the amount covered was about $5 shy of $8,000.00!!! I could have gotten a prosthetic CAR for less! For that kind of money, it should come with all sorts of James Bond-like extras. Like I could press a button and little wheels would pop out of the foot, and then I could just push along with my good foot. Or maybe a small refrigerated space to keep a cold drink. Or maybe a gun that comes out Robocop style. SOMETHING! Instead, all I get is next-to-impossible-to-destroy carbon fiber, advanced, lightweight alloys, and a foot engineered to simulate the natural gait of walking.

Jerks.

Having seen the price tag of my new leg, I went online to find out what the "black market price" was for it. Maybe I could sell my leg for a profit, tell insurance that someone stole my leg, and they'd get me a brand new one. Financial windfall, here I come! 

Follow me for more tips on how to defraud the government and wind up in jail!

The problem is that my prosthetic leg is worth $8,000 to me and ONLY me. Online, if you want a used prosthetic leg, you can get it for around $150 at the most. It won't fit anyone but the original owner, and it's alignment will only benefit them. In other words, a used prosthetic leg is worthless.

There was one other aspect of being an amputee that required an adjustment of conscious thought: socks. These are layers of Lycra that can be added to the leg covering to improve the socket's fit to your leg. There are all sorts of reasons why your residual limb might change size. Leg elevation, water retention, continued use of a limb shrinker. Gaps that form between the leg cover and the socket can cause pain, sores, and even calluses. To prevent these, "socks" can be slipped over the end of the leg cover. They come as one-ply, three-ply, and five-ply. If you're not catching on, think two-ply toilet paper. It's the thickness of the socks.

Seen here: one five-ply and one three-ply

sock on the end of my leg covering.

Here's the issue: I have to make sure the pin comes through the end of the sock. If I don't and force the pin into the socket, it gets jammed in place. Until I figure out a way to get it off, I'm then stuck with the leg attached. I had a couple of minor jams and one MAJOR. The major one required my to get into the shower and force soapy water into the leg covering so it would get slick enough inside to slip off me. Then someone whose hands haven't been decimated by diabetic neuropathy had to come help force the pin to release the sock-covered pin.

Fun times.

Well, quiet people, we're very near to the end of this saga. All I need to tell you now is the epilogue. About the massive lawsuit I brought against the doctors who didn't listen to my pleas for help when I made them, and their comeuppance for being the primary cause of the loss of my foot. More than the physical damage, there was the immeasurable psychological trauma of having a foot I'd lived with for over 51 years amputated. It's a light at the end of this nightmarish tunnel, right? See you next post!