13. MAX #2
“Yes and no,” said Kaitlyn, whose amputation location was the same as mine but who wore shorts that showed it off.
“Some aspects of it, only time will heal. But other aspects you can work directly on. Coming here, to group, is part of that. I was so isolated after my amputation. I was back at home living with my mother, who was so worried about me that she hardly let me out of the house. Eventually I insisted on going out. I insisted on finding a therapist. And my therapist helped me work on how angry I was at the world for doing this to me and for no longer being a place where I felt entirely comfortable. There was a lot of yelling and crying,” she finished wryly.
“Do you feel that you’re isolated the way Kaitlyn was?” Javier asked, turning to me.
I considered that. I wasn’t alone; I had Lucas. On the other hand, I still hated to go outside when I didn’t absolutely have to. Too many stares and sympathetic smiles. “Maybe a little,” I confessed reluctantly. “I don’t...go out much.”
“And why is that?” he pressed.
I shuddered. “Because people look. All the time. It’s like all I am, all they see, is the absence of my leg.”
“And that makes you...angry?” Caroline asked. “Hurt? Afraid?”
“All of those, I guess. Maybe mostly angry. What the fuck right do they have to steal my peace of mind and make me think yet again how I’m no longer in one piece?”
Michel nodded comprehendingly. “That is understandable. I see so many people each day at work that just because the odds are so high, someone asks at least once a day what happened to me. And then I have to think about it all over again. It is like being re-traumatized.” He pulled a slight face at the term, looking like he didn’t like it applying to himself.
“Yes!” I pointed at him in excitement. He’d nailed it.
“That’s exactly it. It’s like I can’t get away from thinking about it, no matter how much time passes, because every time I encounter another human being, it’s like I’m back in the hospital waking up and being told my leg is gone.
It hurts. And then I get angry, because how fucking dare they.
And then I get afraid that none of this is ever going to change, and my life is just going to be a series of re-traumatizations, one after the other.
And all I want is to go back to the apartment and crawl into bed and never see anyone but Lucas again. ”
“Is Lucas your boyfriend?” asked Sidney. “And does he treat you like you’re worth less to him now, or like he needs you to constantly be aware of your injury?”
Was Lucas my boyfriend? Wasn’t that the goddamn question of the month.
I wished I knew the answer. I knew I wanted him to be, but I had absolutely no idea what he wanted and I couldn’t bring myself to ask.
And the group didn’t want or need to hear about my are-we-or-aren’t-we stressing.
After considering what to tell Sidney, I finally said, “He’s my roommate and a close friend.
I trust him. And, no, he doesn’t treat me like there’s anything wrong with me.
That’s why I like being with him. It feels safe with him. ”
“So,” Javier concluded sagely, “the person who perhaps knows you best at this point in time doesn’t find your value diminished and doesn’t obsess about what happened.
Maybe you can, if you really trust him and feel safe with him, try taking his word over your own mind’s?
That’s easier said than done, of course, and I’m not saying to let him rule your life, but in this one aspect, it may be worth considering that he may see you more clearly than you, in your grief, can see yourself. ”
My breath caught at the mental image of Lucas’s clear eyes focused on me, full of warmth and belief in me.
He really did go through life as if there was nothing wrong with what I was.
He seemed so sure of it. What would it be like if I could be that sure?
Could I take his belief and make it my own?
I swallowed a sudden urge to sob out loud.
“Maybe,” I managed to say through the lump in my throat. “It’s hard.”
“It definitely is,” Caroline confirmed with a nod. Around us, others were nodding too. “I still struggle with it every day. My husband helps—he’s my biggest cheerleader—but it took me a long time to start to believe him when he told me nice things like that I was still strong and capable.”
“How often do you get reminded that you’re down a limb?” I asked, deliberately changing the subject before I burst into tears in the middle of the room. “Because right now it’s constantly on my mind. I can’t escape it, no matter what I’m doing. And it’s fucking exhausting.”
Michel chuckled. “That will diminish over time. Right now the mere sensation of the prosthetic is odd to you, tickling at the corners of your mind. You keep expecting a part of you to be there and have a sense of feeling that isn’t and doesn’t.
It would be surprising if you could get your mind off it.
Eventually, you will adjust to the feel of an artificial limb.
It won’t ever feel like your own leg, but your brain will come around to being subconsciously aware that it shouldn’t expect to feel your own foot and leg. ”
“But,” I protested, “what about as far as other people staring? Even if I’m used to my prosthetic or my blank spot, people on the street never will be, and they’ll always stare and want to know what happened.”
“Fuck ‘em,” announced Kaitlyn. “They’re not your problem.”
I sighed. “That’s what Lucas said.”
“And he’s right,” she said firmly. “I know it’s easier said than done, but you need to sort of exist in your own little bubble of peace when you’re around strangers. Stop caring what they might be thinking and start focusing only on what you’re doing.”
Definitely easier said than done. I couldn’t help but notice the stares at this point, no matter how hard I tried not to.
“It will be like the same thing I said about sensation,” Michel said.
“Right now being stared at is an odd and unusual feeling, and it niggles at you. But over time, it will just become part of your experience of the world and you will stop noticing it, so much or maybe at all. For me, it has never stopped entirely hurting, but nowadays I can shake it off within seconds rather than falling into a funk for the rest of the day.”
God, wouldn’t I love to have that sense of peace and comfort back. I’d never even given a thought to how much I was comfortably ignored by other people until they stopped ignoring me all of a sudden. “This sucks,” I complained, running a hand over the top of my head in exasperation with myself.
“Amen, man,” chimed in Sidney. “It does suck, and it’s not fair to you if you try to blame yourself for thinking that fact.”
I sighed, but before I could say anything, Javier clapped his hands lightly.
“We’re out of time, folks. Max, I hope we’ve given you a lot to think—or not think, as the case may be,” he added with a chuckle, “- about. Everyone, thank you for supporting him so well, and I hope you take away some positive thoughts from tonight’s meeting. ”
Goodbyes were offered, hands were clasped, and a few high-fives were exchanged. Caroline came over and asked if she could give me a hug, which I gladly accepted. Javier patted my shoulder in a fatherly manner. Sidney gave me a fistbump and said, “You’re doing fine, brother.”
I was smiling as I rolled out of the clinic doors and into the parking lot.
Group hadn’t fixed anything, but it had given me a sliver of hope that things really could get better.
I spotted Lucas’s car on the side of the lot and headed toward it, and by the time I got there, he was out of the car waiting to help with the chair.
I transferred into the passenger’s seat and shook my head when he reached out to fold it. “Let me do it, remember?”
“Oh, right.” He tucked his hands in his pockets. “Sorry.” He studied my face while I concentrated on folding the chair, and offered me a tentative smile when I looked up. “You look good. Like you had good discussions that maybe made you feel a little better.”
I inclined my head in agreement. “I think I did, actually.”
He leaned down to give me a hug through the open car door. “I’m so glad, Max.”
I grinned and squeezed him back, then pushed him away. “Go get in. I want to get home and out of these damn jeans. I’m so used to wearing pajama pants these days, everything fucking chafes.”
“As you wish.”