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Mar. 11th, 2011 01:32 amIncredibly bizarre realizations time:
It suddenly hit me earlier today that I'd kind of forgotten that my mom had her leg amputated. Well, forgotten might not be the right word, but I just never really think about it anymore. When I remember the three and a half months I practically lived in the hospital with her my brain focuses on everything having to do with her cancer, not her leg, even though she never once had a hospital stay that was just about the cancer (the three months started the day she lost her leg and ended the day she cleared physical therapy for it though the cancer weakening her did slow the process down considerably, then she was in for a couple of day because she developed a high fever, and about a week near the end of her life because she broke her arm). When I upset myself by thinking about how I'm sure she would have lived at least a little bit longer if she hadn't broken her arm, because she was always far and away at her strongest when she could exercise some and the arm put an end to that, it just kind of slips away from my mind that the reason for that is because she needed both arms to prop herself up on one leg.
I honestly don't think that I've thought about it once in months until tonight. The only reason I did now was because I was watching 127 Hours and when the time jumped from when the guy first got his hand crushed to eight hours later it made me comment that even if he suddenly managed to free his hand then he would have been pretty fucked, because I remembered the doctor talking to me and my brothers about how the dead cut-off blood in my mom's leg would have been toxic to her if it had been released into the rest of her body and that was why they'd needed to amputate above the knee. Then what I was saying without really thinking about it actually sank in and I was a little bit shocked to realize, holy shit! That's right! Mom lost her leg!
It suddenly hit me earlier today that I'd kind of forgotten that my mom had her leg amputated. Well, forgotten might not be the right word, but I just never really think about it anymore. When I remember the three and a half months I practically lived in the hospital with her my brain focuses on everything having to do with her cancer, not her leg, even though she never once had a hospital stay that was just about the cancer (the three months started the day she lost her leg and ended the day she cleared physical therapy for it though the cancer weakening her did slow the process down considerably, then she was in for a couple of day because she developed a high fever, and about a week near the end of her life because she broke her arm). When I upset myself by thinking about how I'm sure she would have lived at least a little bit longer if she hadn't broken her arm, because she was always far and away at her strongest when she could exercise some and the arm put an end to that, it just kind of slips away from my mind that the reason for that is because she needed both arms to prop herself up on one leg.
I honestly don't think that I've thought about it once in months until tonight. The only reason I did now was because I was watching 127 Hours and when the time jumped from when the guy first got his hand crushed to eight hours later it made me comment that even if he suddenly managed to free his hand then he would have been pretty fucked, because I remembered the doctor talking to me and my brothers about how the dead cut-off blood in my mom's leg would have been toxic to her if it had been released into the rest of her body and that was why they'd needed to amputate above the knee. Then what I was saying without really thinking about it actually sank in and I was a little bit shocked to realize, holy shit! That's right! Mom lost her leg!