8/22/00

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August, 2000

8/22/00

I got a phone call last night from Margaret, whom I haven't spoken with in a long time. I had thought she'd moved back to South Dakota after having been laid off from Glendale Federal last year. Unfortunately, she had some very bad news. "Anne...I hate to tell you this," she sighed, "...but...I lost part of my left leg." That sentence hit me like a fist. Clubbed me. My God, I thought. Amputation. That word. My God.

You see, Margaret has been suffering from diabetes for the last 24 years. She has always had severe peripheral neuropathy in both feet (the left has been the worst of the two). Margaret has always been mindful of the fit of her shoes. Because of her diabetes, even minor wounds heal very slowly -- or not at all. A tiny blister on her foot is enough to put her in hospital and on antibiotics. She has to take special medication to dull the constant pins&needles pain in her feet.

Well, this year she had gotten a small, undetected fracture in her left ankle. Over time, an abscess grew inside. By the time it was discovered, the infection had become quite severe. Margaret was given a choice: 1) Spend six months in a hospital bed, hoping the antibiotics would stop the infection; 2) Have the leg, from the middle of the calf down, removed. Margaret said it was her choice alone. She chose the latter. She did not want to waste six months of her life lying in a hospital bed on the slim chance that her leg might be saved. So she made a very brave decision. And, she stressed once again, it was her decision alone to make.

Margaret spent 100 days in a rehab center learning to use her prosthesis. The doctors and therapists are amazed at how well she's doing. Margaret is an excellent coper -- after all she's been through in her life. While in hospital and later in rehab, she lost her address book and had to track me down through my brother (I've got an unlisted phone number).

During her rehab, her older sister passed away. Luckily Margaret's doctors allowed her to fly to England to be with her family. She is stronger than I'd ever be in such a situation. On Thursday I'm driving Margaret to her doctor's appointment in Carlsbad -- which is too far for her to drive right now. It'll be good to see her again. She's a very sweet, special lady.

I read a letter to the editor recently where the letter-writer, an advocate of the disabled, mentioned an interesting term. She called herself a T.A.B. (Temporarily Able Bodied) person. And you know, it makes sense. We can all so very easily become disabled -- either by accident or disease or any number of things. Who knows whether or not a person will go through his/her life with all extremities and spine intact, sight and hearing functioning? Never, ever take your good health and able body for granted. Never, ever look at someone who's in a wheelchair and think, "Thank God that's not me." Because it could be you one day. Very easily. A car accident. A bad dive into a pool. Cancer. Diabetes. Anything. Always, always think of yourself as a TAB and appreciate what you have -- never take your health for granted.