Finally Home

90. Samantha

I have the weirdest parents and they have the weirdest friends. But they're all also amazing.

They held a funeral. For my leg. And even made a papier-mâché leg that they said was 'symbolically buried'.  Which I'm guessing means actually thrown out because it was papier-mâché.

When they were done with this weird funeral, we talked and they acknowledged that none of us had really thought about the reality. I was busy being mad about it, and scared. But Mom and Dad were right. I never really grieved.

After a good cry, and a good talk, and my adorable little sister, everyone came back into my room and we had some snacks. Jill and her mom were there too.

Later in the morning, I had to go to physio again. Learning to use crutches with one leg wasn't as easy as I'd assumed it would be. My balance was totally different and I needed to work on my strength again since I wouldn't be able to put a foot down and rest. Plus, I had to be careful of my stump still since physio had just started and it was still healing. I was mostly working on strengthening my arms and back because I'd be on crutches for a long time. Maybe forever, depending on how I adapt to a prosthetic. I met a prosthetist on the third day of physio and he talked to me and Mom and Dad about the different types and how in a few days, he'd take a cast of my stump and we could decide on the types that would be best for me.

They also changed my bandage from just plain bandages to a bandage and a compression sock that was really tight on my stump. They said it would help with swelling. The prosthetist said he may have to redo the casting depending on how much my stump shrank after.

My physiotherapist also talked to me about the different types of prosthesis I could get in a few months, once my stump healed. He said it would make a big difference in my 'quality of life' and a couple of days ago, I wouldn't have believed him. But after the 'funeral' and after talking with Mom and Dad and talking about how scared I was and whether I'd be able to do anything I liked anymore.

I did feel a lot better though, after talking with Mom and Dad, and Doc came by every day to talk with me, too.

After physio, I was wheeled back to my room and Mom and Dad and Rosie were there.

"Josh and Debby and Brendon and Sarah are going to come by after lunch, okay?" Dad said.

"Okay," I said, yawning.

"Come on you," Dad smiled. "Let's get you into bed. Take a nap. Eric said you worked really hard today."

I nodded and Dad helped me into my bed.

"Dad, can you put Patrick on a pillow?" I asked.

"Who's Patrick?" He asked. I pointed at my stump.

"Get it?" I grinned.

Dad looked at me, and my stump and rolled his eyes.

"Patrick Stump. Oh my god, Samantha," Mom laughed.

"You should take a picture of your stump and send it to him," Dad said, laughing.

"I like that you're joking about it," Mom said. "I just hope you're not hiding pain or anything and trying to convince us you're okay."

"I'm not 'okay', but, I'm better," I admitted. "Doc has helped. And you guys. And that ... funeral?"

They smiled.

"We hoped it wouldn't blow up in our faces. We're glad it helped," Dad said.

"It was the weirdest funeral I've ever been to."

"And you've been to exactly how many?" Dad smirked.

"Exactly one. My mom," I said.

"Oh. Right. Of course. Duh," Dad said.

I knew they didn't forget about my birth mom. But I guess Dad didn't think I'd have gone to the funeral. No. I did. Stanley had to make it look like we were both grieving. I was. He wasn't. But, he was a good actor.

I lay back on my pillows and closed my eyes. Man, was I tired. And I had a headache. I fell asleep pretty quickly.

Mom shook me awake for lunch but I wasn't hungry.

"Mom?" I said.

"Yes, baby?" She replied.

"I don't feel good," I coughed. Mom came over and felt my forehead.

"You're warm.  I'm going to call a nurse," she said.

I was just too tired to stay awake and fell asleep again.

When I woke up, I felt cold. I started shivering and Dad was by my side. I coughed and my chest hurt when I did that.

"Hey there baby cakes," Dad said with a mix between concern and sympathy in his face. "You've got pneumonia and a pretty high fever. They're keeping an eye on that and you're back on the antibiotics. No physio for you for a few days. Just rest and relaxation."

"I'm cold," I said, shivering.

"I'll go see about another blanket for you," Mom said. "Do you want a cup of tea?"

"Yes please," I coughed and groaned.

"What's up?" Dad asked.

"My chest hurts when I cough," I complained. "And I don't feel good."

Dad climbed up onto my bed with me and wrapped me in his arms. He started humming 'Truce' and then 'Formidable'. He kept smoothing down my hair and humming. I dozed off again.

At some point I felt a bit warmer. I was in that realm where you're not really asleep, but you're not really awake either. I think Mom had found the extra blanket.

I slept on. I just didn't have the energy for anything else.