Amputation: The First Year
By Daniel Sheret  Amputation. That one simple word changes
everything, doesn't it? I considered this recently as I spoke with
a man who is facing the difficult decision between an amputation
and his 16th surgery to restore mobility to his damaged left ankle.
I could relate to that dilemma.
While listening to him weigh out loud the pros and cons of this
decision, my mind wandered back to the day just over a year ago
when I first heard the word "amputation" spoken concerning my own
future. Since then, many things in my life have changed. The world
and my place in it looks very different.
In the short months that have passed since that day, I have
experienced fear, depression, and guilt. I have faced hard choices
and challenges and have found that I somehow possess courage I
cannot explain. I have learned to set goals and to reach and
surpass them. I have recovered from the physical trauma of surgical
amputation. Slowly, I am piecing my emotional and spiritual life
back together.
My story began in the fall of 2001 as I sat listening to the
orthopedic surgeon quietly informing me that, after three minor
corrective surgeries, there was little more he could do to give me
more mobility or relieve the pain in my badly shattered right
ankle. Two plates, 13 screws, and an odd pin or two held it all
together. In only two years since the accident, the cartilage in my
ankle was worn out and the bone-on-bone pain would only get
worse.
Amputation: A Solution?
He suggested that an amputation might be a solution to my pain
and referred me to The Hanson Foot and Ankle Clinic in Seattle,
Washington, for a consultation with the highly respected Dr.
Sigfried Hanson. Today I realize that my local doctor placed me on
a road leading to some of the finest medical care available.
Entering this world of excellent health care started with the
first hour-long meeting with Dr. Hanson. The length of our meeting
itself was a surprise. I was used to the quick ten minutes with a
doctor who had three other patients waiting in other exam rooms.
During this hour, Dr. Hanson led me through all the possibilities
open to me. In short, I had two choices: spend the next three to
five years having multiple surgeries with about a 25 percent chance
of getting better-or amputate and move on with my life. On my
eight-hour drive back to southern Oregon, I decided to go ahead
with the amputation.
My wife and I researched amputation and prosthetics. I joined a
newsgroup of amputees on the Internet and from them learned what
this new world was about. I cannot stress how important
communicating with other amputees was then and still remains. From
strangers I learned about the new life I was facing and found
acceptance, strength, and support, as well as a forum for my many
questions. I found the courage to contact Dr. Hanson again.
Undergoing an Ertl Amputation
My wife and I drove back to Seattle the first week of February
2002 to meet the doctor who would perform the surgery. A young,
calm, confident surgeon appeared and introduced himself as Dr.
William Ertl. I had researched both Dr. Ertl and his procedure
commonly called an "Ertl amputation." Dr. Ertl made a contract with
me. I was going to have to work hard in my recovery, follow his
advice, and have a "can do" attitude. In turn, he was going to, in
effect, rebuild my leg. But the leg would be different, since I
would not have an ankle or a foot. His confidence instilled trust,
and I immediately decided to have the surgery in two weeks.
Waking up from the five-hour procedure I steeled myself for the
shock of looking down and not seeing the rest of my leg. I had read
the stories of others waking up and experiencing this life-changing
moment. I was ready! I lifted the sheets and saw a neatly wrapped
residual limb. That was it. There was no heart-stopping moment,
there was no flash of an epiphany. I was simply still me. It was
almost a letdown. I remember thinking, "Well, that's not so
bad-piece of cake!" Grief set in later.
Recovery: Physical and Emotional
 Five days of hospitalization passed, and my wife
drove me home to our changed life. I feared I was going to be a
cripple. I felt loss, grief, and an overwhelming desire for a sense
of normalcy.
I found myself on an emotional roller coaster, which, however,
gave me the fuel to return to work. Within three weeks I was back
in my art gallery, greeting customers. I rarely ventured beyond the
sales counter. I saw how uncomfortable the average tourist was
while being served by a one-legged man on crutches. (The Ertl
amputation generally requires eight to twelve weeks of non-weight
bearing to heal, but mine took four months, due to a slowly closing
wound.)
I worked alone each day, feeling that all eyes in this small
town were on me and my progress. I longed for the day I would get
my first leg and be "normal" again. But a funny thing happened in
those intervening months. I began to forget what life was like
before my surgery. Living life on a pair of crutches became normal,
and I was adjusting to it. I noticed the stares less and less, and
my sense of humor slowly returned.
In June 2002, I was fitted with my first leg. "Go on with life,"
Steve, my prosthetist, said. Therefore, with this in mind, I went
to the Amputee Coalition of America (ACA) Conference in Anaheim,
California. I was fortunate to have met so many nice people via the
Internet discussion group and spent a week with many of them
talking, laughing, and not feeling different. I had not seen
another amputee, except for a support group meeting I attended
during my hospital stay. Faces were put with names of friends I had
only known in cyberspace. It had been two and a half years since I
had laughed as much and enjoyed myself as much. These kind people
helped bring me back to living a full rich life that is different,
but no less fulfilling.
During that week I met many amputees who struggled with poorly
fitted prostheses and residual limbs in need of revision surgery.
Until then, I thought all amputations were like mine. I began to
understand just how much my life had been improved by having an
Ertl amputation. Dr. Ertl fulfilled his part of our contract, and I
would like to think I fulfilled mine. The benefit from this type of
reconstructive surgery is evidenced in my daily life. I can cycle
up to 40 miles daily. I have minimal phantom pain. I take no
medications. I have a very normal gait. I look forward to the
future; for me, 2003 holds a myriad of possibilities.
Eight months after my surgery, I moved 3,000 miles from Oregon
and began a new life on the coast of North Carolina. I thought all
this while listening to a frightened man about to embark on his own
adventure. What would his first year hold in store for him? I
wished him well, as I wish us all well. It will be nothing if not
interesting, eh? 
Table Of Contents - March 2003
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