Strange as it may seem, this life is based on a true story." - Ashleigh Brilliant


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name: shanna
age: 28
sign: scorpio
live: louisiana
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Pin-up girl by Rion Vernon; used with permission. Header design by the totally awesome Rose. The rest by moi.


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Friday, March 26, 2004

So as you know, though I don't mention it much anymore, I'm slightly immobile these days. Well, I'm on a crutch (got down to one) - and have been for....well, fuck, it'll be two years this June. If you can't imagine what it's like living on crutches and having your leg frozen in one position for two years, let me try to explain it. It's an absolute miserable fucking hell. Though my arms are super buff - we must think positive, right?

It all began when I went to get my bum knee fixed (I was born without enough muscle around my kneecap to the keep the fucker in place - so it "floated" and liked to pop out of socket occasionally). The surgery, though three major procedures, was outpatient - I was told I'd be walking in "two weeks". Seriously, the did say two weeks - not two years. So I wasn't prepared for the horrorible downward spiral my life became after that surgery - and the two that followed to try and free up my serious scarring problem (I scar badly and inside it was so bad that everything just melded together - nice). I was also lax on my physical therapy - I won't lie - b/c I'm a wuss and it hurt like mother fucking hell. Agony - like breaking my leg every time I went in. I was miserable, thrown down into the deepest depression I have ever mucked through and was worse off than when I started to boot. It all - well it all fucking sucked.

The three surgeries didn't work and I all but gave up - I learned to live on one leg (and one crutch) though not enjoyably, I'll note. I really didn't know what to do. Last year I went in and he wanted to do another surgery - I just couldn't face another one then and told him I'd get back to him. Life took a nosedive last year and uprooted me (as you'll remember - the cat dying, the car being stolen, us moving - all in a few weeks) and I never got around to finding another doctor to give me a 2nd opinion. So when my temporary handicapped license plate tag rock-star parking tag expired, I went in to have him sign me up for another - b/c, well, I need it. He said at this point the only option was another surgery - hopefully one where they wouldn't have to cut, just knock me out, straighten that fucker, bend it, too and break the adhesions and then stick in a cast to force it to go straight again (it's frozen sort of bent - so that I walk on my toes). He claims another woman, more frozen than I after 7 surgeries, had this done and can now walk.

So I don't know how I feel about it. I'm dreading the fucking surgery - I'm not scared of it anymore, like in the beginning. Knock me out, sure, whatever. It's the pain and recovery that I dread. Getting put to sleep fucks with your head! After I had three surgeries in three months, it was six months before I could read a book again and understand what was going on. I was a scatterbrain - I couldn't remember *anything* or form full and coherent thoughts. It was over a year before I felt somewhat normal again - though I still feel I never fully recovered mentally.

The pain is another thing altogether. After my last manipulation (what this surgery is called), I woke up and started punching the wall and begging for painkillers. I was in pain - bad pain - and that was just after a few weeks of being frozen. Can you imagine what those muscles are going to feel like being ripped up like that after two years? Fuck yes, I'm scared of the pain. And then I have to push myself this time - have to get thru that pain and push with the p.t. I'm not looking forward to it.

I'm terrified of slipping back into that black depression. I'm afraid of hoping that this will be "the one" - the surgery that will "fix" me. I know I'll never walk normally again - I'm not naive enough to think I'll ever have fully, mobile legs. I've accepted this - I gotten out of that black fog. I know I'll likely walk again - possibly even with no limp (yay!) - but I'll probably never be able to bend fully. That's fine. So I can't squat - that'll really suck when I need to pee outside, but who cares? As long as I can fucking walk (and dance, I love to dance), then I'm not gonna be picky. So I don't know how to feel about this - do I go in with a fighting spirit - I'm going to do it this time and ignore all else? Do I have hope - or does that just set me up to topple back off into depression if this is just another dead-end? Do I just go into it with a "fuck it" attitude - if it works, awesome - if not, I go thru pain and hell but am still in the same place in the end so who cares?

I'm just confused - right now I'm trying not to deal with it - but May 28th isn't that far away. It'll be here before you know it. I'm ready, and at the same time, I'm not. I'm scared - fuck yes I am - but I'm also apathetic at this point. Part of me has given up, I've noticed.

I don't know what I'm even asking here. I'm just kind of...lost. I don't know what to think or how to feel.

I hope everyone has a great weekend - thanks for any thoughts.

Oh, and I almost forgot - go check out Rachel's kickass forum. She's trying to get some new people to join, so go on over and meet the rest of the crazies. It's a fun place - go there now - I, the cripple one, demand it.


- shanna bared her soul & griped a bit @ 12:50 PM
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