Don't Freak Out

Please don't. Take a deep breath....

The master is having his lower left leg amputated.

I couldn't think of a fun way to break that news. Sorry. As many of you know, the master was born with an extremely rare bone disease. For most of his childhood and adolescence, the doctor's at Shriner's Hospital in Shreveport LA did everything they could so that the master could walk. Sixteen surgeries later, he could walk, but his left leg was 1 1/2" shorter, and his ankle was fused--making it impossible to walk without a pronounced limp. Nevertheless, he was done. He walked out of that hospital at 16 and didn't look back.
Five minutes after meeting him, you don't notice the limp. I haven't. I remember our first Thanksgiving in Illinois. The master's grandmother approached me and started talking about how proud they were of their little crippled grandson...about how they never thought he would have any life...and how it was amazing that he was now able to walk. Honestly, I started to scan the community center for who in the world she was talking about. It was only after I followed her gaze to my husband that it clicked. She was talking about him. I just don't think of him as crippled or handicapped.
But lately, I've noticed the limp. Because it is much worse. The master realized that the shin bone of his affected limb was bowing out like never before. And he hurts. How badly he hurts, is hard to say. Because he has always hurt and has an extremely high tolerance for the pain. I'm quite certain the pain he describes as a level three would have me writhing in the bed, praying to die. Finally, he agreed to see an orthopedic surgeon. But that was easier said than done. It took months for Shriner's to dig up his old records...weeks for the surgeon to agree to take the master as a patient and a few more weeks before he could get his appointment.
The surgeon gave him three options:
1)Live with the pain for as long as you can bear it
2) Look into a procedure known as Lizeroff.
3) Amputate
Number three was actually what the master was hoping for. I know that sounds strange, but all of his childhood he watched children (his own roommates) have amputations and get prosthesis, and he couldn't help noticing that what they were left with worked a lot better than what he had. He's tired of hurting.
Monday we went to Houston for two appointments: one with the leading Lizeroff expert and one with a prosthetic company. The Lizeroff doctor definitely did not sell us on the procedure. It is an agonizing, drawn out process in which the bone is broken and then a halo is set on the outside of the bone to prevent healing. Infection rates are high. Success rates low. And the expert didn't seem to think that he was a good candidate for success. He told us he would not be able to gain any length (even if the procedure was successful). He couldn't do anything about the ankle. In another 10 to 15 years, the bone might be right back where it is now: horribly twisted and bowed. But if we wanted to give it a try, we should get a MRI and schedule surgery. Uh, thanks, but no thanks.
The master is actually excited. He will be able to run for the first time in his life. He will be able to walk into a Payless and buy a pair of shoes. A pair of tennis shoes! He will be able to sit down at a table without looking to see if he has clearance to swing his leg in and out.
At first, I jumped on the giddy wagon, too. I'm coming down from that. Something of the reality of that word--amputation--is sinking in now. They are going to cut off my husband's leg. I guess that is a heavy thing. But it's our best option. So please pray for us.