Week four was filled with the smell of pumpkin pie and cranberry sauce. My family joined me in the dull hospital where I stayed, to feast and say thanks for the multiple blessings in our lives. Life, the thing I am most thankful for. Being able to breathe in the air that surrounds me. The very thing that makes it possible for me to open the windows and letting the day’s light in, to smell the fragrance of pine trees, and hold my baby in my arms.

This was the week that I started to get up and out of bed frequently, on my own, into a wheelchair that was far too big for me. I remember this because there was room enough for my wound vac which made it very convenient. Week four is when things started getting better, but also kind of worse. I began to remember full days and explore the outskirts of my room. Surgeries started slowing down to three times a week and then 2 times a week. It was also the time when I started to become fully aware that I didn’t have any legs. I would wake up in the morning fully conscious and forget that I was an amputee. I would have to remember all of the things that had been masked by the massive intake of anesthesia and medication. The pain was a little worse, the heartache was a little worse, but the love that was shown to me was something that could take it all away, for a while anyway. My Mom, still there by my side each day, changed her tone from frightened of the possibility of losing her child to the tone of, she’s here – she’s alive and quite annoying at that. (I was hah). 

I think this was the week I decided that I wouldn’t let my situation stop me from doing what I loved. I became aware of all of the obstacles that I would face and I was ready, right then, to face them with everything I had. 

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