Bridget and her leg

Below is the 'project closure' report that I did a year after I'd first had my lower right leg amputated.  I've just cut/paste as I wrote it then.  Some may say it's a journey...

When my leg was amputated it was a massive shock.  Massive.  I had peripheral artery disease, still have it, now managed by medication, fairly simple stuff.  It can be be asymptomatic.  I wouldn't have necessarily have been an obvious candidate.  I had smoked however so that was obviously a contributing factor.  My vascular consultant describes the arteries as motorways (main arteries) and side roads - any of them can become blocked. 

But in fact when I was told my lower leg would have to be amputated it wasn't a surprise.  I mean it wasn't a surprise that it wasn't ok.  I knew it wasn't ok following artery bypass surgery that failed, but it was pretty heartbreaking.  After it was done, being unable to walk was overwhelming and the feeling of being out of control and being unable to do things for myself was devastating.

The first time I walked with a prosthesis was quite quite amazing. And that then was the start.  Putting the leg on and off at the beginning was agony ..but had to be done.  Baby steps eh?  And so it was.

And still is.  Although now I have to say that this is normal life.  It's not a new normal, it's just more of my life.

I had intended to leave work at the end of 2023, I hadn't intended to be off work ill for five months at the end of that year.  Thanks to my then manager @rod I was made redundant then.  That meant I had the money to focus on getting better without worrying.  And what a gift that was.   It also strangely gave me something to do when I stopped work.  I hadn't known what that would be.  And I've certainly had things to do.

It was my idea to make myself a project.  It gave me defined scope and focus.  The milestones were all set by me.  And they were very arbitrary.  I had no idea how long it would take me to walk, walk up and down stairs, walk 5k, have a shower, drive (using my left foot), swim, travel on my own, fly abroad, lift heavy weights, run a tiny bit, go to a live gig, go to a festival, stay away overnight, stay away for a week, have friends to stay, have groups of friends to stay.

Everything needs to be thought about and worked out how it can be done.  Even simple things take a lot of thought and energy.  And that process of thinking and working it out can be lonely and frustrating.  Often I miss the obvious. 

When I planned to leave work I also didn't know what I would do next.  I hadn't known anyway.  I was told what to do next after my lower leg was amputated.  I applied for and got personal independence payment from the government.  That's odd.  I don't think I've ever had more than a few weeks dole money during a very long working life.  But I can't walk without my leg on. This also allowed me to get a blue badge and that's very useful, as is the accessible toilet key - queue jumping without guilt.  These things help.

Nearly as soon as I came out of hospital I was back training.  This was massively important as it made me feel in control of something and building my strength. When I couldn't walk and couldn't drive George would come and take me to the gym and design workout sessions so that I could do strengthening things from a wheelchair.  He adapted to what I could do and now I'm lifting heavier bench press, nearly as heavy deadlifts as when I had two full legs.   Squatting is taking a little longer for obvious reasons. Maybe I will compete someday.    Kate sorted out the massive scars on my leg and keeps the hurt at bay.

Michael suggested a 'wee job' in September, working with him in a local charity.  This helped him and the organisation but of course was mainly to help me - get out of bed, get out of my head, crack on.  And allows me to support others in a small way.   And also it's an income - something that is more a confidence booster than monetary.

I had just finished an online course about health and nutrition.  That had given me focus, and a sort of timetable to work to, as well as reminded me I like learning.  And I had just started a gym instructor course.  Both these were to help me get better and be better and understand what I needed to keep strong.  I always like to be strong.   That meant suddenly I was working two days a week starting at 8am, and every other weekend doing two days learning.  Very different and very busy and tiring.   It's a fact that everything takes more effort if you have an amputation - around 30% is documented. 

At the start of this I didn't want to be identified as 'an amputee'.  I still don't.  I don't like the label.  I also didn't think I would want to get involved in a specific community by definition of a missing limb part.   But I have never besn ashamed of having a prosthetic leg.  In fact I think it's quite a cool look (looks good but still hurts often of course).  I try and walk tall.

I've now signed up to qualify as a personal trainer.  And plan a counselling  course when I'm finished that. (Some of these are free courses for adults).  I have in mind that I could help others who have lost limbs.  At least I get it.

I've spoken to the team at the NHS prosthetic centre that has supported me so massively, mentally and physically, and they're positive about potential to 'work' together.  A while away.  I now have the confidence to talk to others who are affected by limb loss.  I may never actually work as a personal trainer, but this sort of knowledge is useful for now and future. 

I have also offered to support the prosthetic centre counselling team in group sessions if they want a 'lived experience' viewpoint.  This would have helped me massively when Jerry took me every week for the sessions at the start of 2024. I think the counselling course will let me understand better how to help.  I would not be a counsellor of course.

I don't feel inspirational.  It's often a word used to support people who face physical adversity.  It's not necessarily deserved.  We just get on mostly. 

So here I am.  And to the thank you speech.... the support I have had from so many of you has been immense and unimaginable.  You were by my side when I woke up in the hospital and when I was in pain and frankly quite hysterical, you've listened and held my hand as I cried and raged, you've arranged a support rota, come from far and wide to care for me, took me to medical appointments, cooked for me, shopped for me, driven me places, tended to my house and garden, checked in on me, messaged me and understood when I couldn't deal with it all and when I couldn't talk.  You have cared for my mind and my body.   I would not have got this far without you.   Thank you.  How lucky I am.