Take a minute every day to think about how lucky you are

As I approach the 3-year anniversary of losing my leg, it’s kind of funny to think of some of the changes it has made me face. I always get a bit contemplative and reflective around the New Year.

I'll always acknowledge I was lucky . . .

Lucky a friend called a friend who called the police to check on me. 

Lucky I was prodded (that may be a gentle way of putting it) after declining the EMT request to take me to the emergency room the night before. 

Lucky it wasn't worse and that I survived the trip to the ER and the transfer to Dartmouth. 

Lucky they made me better. 

Lucky the systemic infection hadn't penetrated deeper and further into my right leg. 

Lucky to be surrounded by my friends and family.
Lucky to have two daughters who, along with a friend, bore much of the brunt of my health crash.

Lucky to have been able to come home with a prosthesis after rehab. There was a lot of thought I wouldn't make it back, but I always saw home, for better or worse, as my safe zone. 

Lucky to have been able to learn how to drive with hand controls, and lucky to have a daughter willing to test drive cars and make sure I could get in and out of them before I could drive myself. Lucky to have a friend who stuck by me through all that and remains my warrior guardian angel. 

Lucky to be here.

I think of those things and many more every time I take off my fake leg. 

The stump, or "residual limb" as it is nobly called. Remains something like an unfinished sentence . . . just dangling there with no end. No ankle and foot to complete it. Instead, the remaining bit of leg is covered with a urethane sleeve, then a carbon fiber shell that snaps into the base of the sleeve . . . stainless steel and titanium pieces fit together in a kind of a non-moving ankle continuing down and tucked into a synthetic foot. The whole thing is a mockery of a real leg, of course, but it does provide the ability to walk.

Underneath, though, is just that stump.

I remember the recovery room after my amputation. The calm hustle and bustle of the nurses checking patients at various stages of recovery. My sheet and covers sagging to the mattress where they should have been draped over my leg. It was strange to see that.

Not shocking or upsetting, just strange at that point. The die had been cast days earlier. Losing part of the leg was inevitable. The question was, "how much of the leg," and the answer was a bit unclear. I fought it a bit, opting for a couple of surgeries to try and abrade the dying foot, but it was clear that wasn't a solution.

So I'm lucky. I'm home. I have a wonderful family and fabulous friends. I am lucky to have a guardian angel here on earth who protects me . . . sometimes from myself. 

I wish everyone a very happy holiday season, a Merry Christmas and a wonderful New Year. Take a minute each and every day to think about how lucky you are. How truly blessed you are. Never lose sight of that . . . even when things look gray and dark, rejoice in what you have.

Just think how lucky you are.

I do. Every damn day.