note to Hallie; Seems like a bad time for me to tell my duck story! Sorry about Reuben, I hope he went to find his flock!
I had not planned to "name" my prosthetic leg, and over the years, I rarely refer to it as Peg-y-Sue, or Peg, or Sue, or Sam. Often, it is not with great pleasure that I refer to "it" at all. At the time that I had decided to have this surgery there was much going on in my life. I had spent the last three years having reconstructive surgeries, casts, braces, pins, wires, crutches, wheelchairs, pumps, transfusions and cadaver bone grafts only to find that my bones would not heal enough to be weight-bearing. In the weeks leading up to my surgery I lost my mother, I lost my job, my daughter graduated from high school, and I accompanied my father back to New York to visit his family. I knew the surgery was looming and I wanted to be as "healthy" as possible going in but I also needed time to absorb the magnitude of my decision. I talked at great length with Fred and Karl on what to expect, I read books, magazines, visited support groups...anything I could get my hands on to help me be an informed patient. I am the type of person who needs to know everything, good and bad, before I can make any kind of commitment. When I was comfortable that I had made the right choice we set the date, August 14. Just two days after my 43rd birthday, and four days before my daughters 18th. It was becoming obvious that all my options would soon be taken away from me if I waited any longer as I had developed an ulcer on my foot and a possible bone infection.
It was about this time that my husband and I decided we needed to get away for a few days and spend some time together. This would not only affect me of course, my family had to deal with all of it and the aftermath, and we needed time to talk about how this would change our relationship. The first evening that we were out of town I turned on the local news. Towards the end of the newscast, when they have the "filler" stories, is when I heard about Peggy Sue. Peggy Sue was a duck who had been seriously injured in an attack. I don't remember what kind of attack, I mean, who attacks a duck anyway?? The only way to save Peggy Sue's life was to amputate her right leg. But then she would be useless in the duck world, unable to get around, be with her flock, swim, etc. The vet was not about to give up on her though and decided to try making her a prosthetic duck leg. Can you imagine? And after a few tries, and a few adjustments, Peggy Sue got her leg. She was one lucky duck, and it appeared that things worked out well for her.
I took that as my sign. I would be one lucky duck and this would all work out well for me. And for the most part, despite the constant adjustments to my leg and my life, it has. So, I'll always remember Peggy Sue and when I need a little help I know I have my own Peg-y-Sue right here with me.
to be continued...