HAWKWATCH

Hello, friends. It’s been a while. Hope you don’t mind. But as you may see, I have been running around a little bit. Playing sports, being a good dad, working up a storm. It’s all good.

Speaking of work, my company recently hosted a short film festival, asking employees to show how they are inspired to be creative. I’ve made several films back in my day, from high school documentaries about apathy, to student comedy clip shows in college, to Super 8mm honeymoon films… (don’t ask!). So I jumped at the chance… to entertain, inform and educate. Those I feel are my three major roles in life. That, and make art.

So on May 26, 2014, I trekked to one of my favorite inspiring Westchester spots—Hawkwatch, in Butler Sanctuary, armed with just my small Canon camera, a thin Minolta tripod, my sketch book and a bag of markers.

I wasn’t quite sure what I would film on my way up the mountain. I just let me feet take me on a visual journey that I thought would be nice to watch back in my old age. Without further ado, please enjoy Hawkwatch, and after the film, I’ll tell you some more fun facts and answer some FAQs.

Make sure you watch this in full screen. It won’t cost any extra. Enjoy!

 

Thank you for watching. I hope you got a kick out of that.

Here are the answers to some of some of the questions:

Who did the camerawork?
I used a tripod—I set up the shot, then walked away, eventually came back, reviewed the video and sometimes had to do it again, if I didn’t go far enough. I probably walked the same hike four times that day. Of course, it was worth it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

How long have you been drawing in that book?
I’ve been making what I call “Doodle Diaries” for about 15 years. I have about 20 books so far, all different shapes and sizes—bigger, smaller, spiral bound, perfect bound, blank, quad-ruled—and I’ve doodled on them all. I used drawing as a way to pass the time, alleviate stress, and also as a cheap way of therapy. I usually don’t know what kind of truths my markers will reveal to me. “One day”, I will showcase some of my favorite drawings, sketches and illustrations online, but there are so many to choose from, it’s a little daunting.

The book in Hawkwatch is technically called “Begin Again” as you see in the film, although i call it my Spirograph Book. I started this one shortly after my leg was amputated, and the colorful cover with big blank pages is in stark contrast to the previous two books, Dark Start and DS2, both of which have black covers, and graph paper-ruled off-white paper. I drew my disintegrating marriage in the first book, and  I sorted through the concept of cancer in the second one. Each of those books ended with big fancy “The End”s. I think one of them actually says “So long and thanks for all the fish.”

I used to draw a lot more, especially on the MetroNorth train, but now that I drive in to work daily, I don’t have the time, and the Highway Patrol frowns on DWD—Doodling While Driving. So when I do get to take the time to create, I enjoy it even moreso. I just had to make sure that on this day of filming, I was able to sketch something even half-way decent, while also making a half-way decent movie, and then maybe together, it would make one full decent.

Where is Hawkwatch?
It’s in Arthur Butler Sanctuary, just south of exit 4 off of 684 in Westchester. Even though it’s 45 minutes away from Manhattan, when you climb up to Hawkwatch, you can see Long Island from there. That’s my original home, so it’s why Hawkwatch is like a vortex to me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Did you see any birds when you were up there?

Plenty of times, on other occasions, but just not during the filming of this movie. In fact, I went back two more times to try to capture footage of a soaring Turkey Vulture or any other flying thing, but it was always too warm for them to be flying around. The following weekend, I went back earlier in the day to get some pick-up shots, especially to get the birds, but it was still just too late. I went back a third time the following weekend, always wearing the same clothing, always having the same amount of two-day beard, and even hiked up the very steep incline to Hawkwatch. But still no birds. There is an internet meme called “The Cake Is A Lie”, so I just told myself that the birds were a lie as well. As a filmmaker, I wrestled with whether or not I needed birds at the end, to be soaring through the sky. Would it give extra meaning, as here I am, bound to the ground with my own one foot and robot foot. It might have made for a stronger third act, but hey, It could also have been sentamental and cloying. Bottom line is, my motto is “As Is”, and I was going for cinema verite, and there were no birds, so there are no birds. Oh well. I’ll have to go back. Maybe next time.

What was it like to walk in the woods?
I have always loved nature walks, and I have walked through Butler Sanctuary in all four seasons, sometimes taking the longest trails there are to see how far I can travel and get back without a map. Now, I would rather not get lost, because, while I get around very well, still every step on the prosthetic is a minor challenge. In the film, I did not show the steepest, most treacherous parts of the trail—up or down—because there was a little bit of a struggle, and it didn’t make for very inspiring video. “Don’t let em see you struggle” a good friend suggested. I am still pleased with the portion where I have to navigate past the fallen branches and up the rocky hill. It shows how creativity occurs not just behind the camera, or at the end of the marker. It also is how I move my legs on a regular basis.

Speaking of legs, who are you wearing?
Hey, I’m glad you asked. I am wearing an Ottobock C-Leg. It has a computer microchip which prevents me from stumbling. If I wore my first non-chip mechanical leg, there would ahve been no way that I could have made this hike.

But just as important if not more important than the leg is the socket. In fact, my physical therapist Grace said to me, “A Great Leg is Good, but a Good Fit is Great.” My socket fit was crafted by my one and only leg man, Nick, from Hanger Prosthetics, nearly a year ago, and I have had very few incidents with it. Once Nick sees this video, he will say I’m crazy, but hey, takes one to know one.

Thank you again for watching my video, and following my story. If you have any specific questions about Hawkwatch the film, or my amplified life as an amputee, feel free to ask. I’m an open book.

One leg off, one year on

Happy Anniversary to me and my new life. It’s been one year since Dr. Morris and her amazing staff at Sloan-Kettering put me under and took the cancer away from my body and blood. I faced death head-on, and did what any normal, brave, amazing person would do: I shut my eyes and went to sleep.

The past month plus has been a series of anniversaries upon anniversaries of my personal journey, not only of the past year, but so many other complex lego pieces that have made me who I am today. There’s been the first anniversary of my cancer diagnosis on Halloween; the 31st of my bar mitzvah; the 16th of my mother’s passing, which is always commemorated twice, once the day after Thanksgiving, and also on November 29; my 44th birthday, the day I ultimately decided my leg’s fate; not to mention each and every time I went into hospital. What we discussed, who was there, what I was feeling after they told me what they told me. I remember everything, practically in real time. It’s a blessing and a curse… but more of a blessing.

Why do we even celebrate or commemorate anniversaries? The calendar is a man-made invention probably invented by the Hallmark Corporation to sell more greeting cards, or by the credit card companies so they know when they can tack on a late fee. We measure time by how long it takes for the earth to spin around once on its axis, or make it all the way around the sun in its orbit. But the solar system is moving, too, isn’t it? The earth isn’t where it was in the universe exactly one year ago today. It’s enough to make one dizzy. Ultimately, you can’t go home again. You can never go backward. You must keep moving forward, and you have to keep swimming.

A few weeks ago, a west coast friend at work noted one of my many cancer-related anniversaries, and asked me a real hot-button question: “When you think of how far you’ve come over the past year, aren’t you proud of yourself?” To be candid and honest, I had to shut my office door to be alone and think for a minute. I never considered looking back over my shoulder even for a moment. Maybe that’s because as I relearned how to walk with my prosthetic leg, I’ve had to keep my head straight, sometimes look down at my feet, but always keep focused on moving forward. If I were to turn my head, I could easily get distracted, disoriented, trip myself up.

As seasons change, and holidays remind us of past holidays, we take stock of our lives. What is better, what is worse, or to be more positive, “what could be better?” A big theme of my past year is change, and whether people are capable of it. Will next year’s holiday season look like this one’s, only a little older and more decayed? Or will it be even more profound and meaningful, with bounties of emotional gifts that I can’t even fathom? And what do I have to do differently in my life to make that so? Would that be considered change or growth?

Growth is inevitable, and growth is a form of change, so people must be able to change. But a cow doesn’t turn into a fish, and people don’t change so much that they become unrecognizable.

Ultimately, I don’t think that I have changed very much over this past year. At least not because of my cancer or amputation. That has all been a great and almost pleasant diversion; pushing other thoughts out of my head… stuff I hadn’t wanted to or needed to deal with yet. And now it will be time to get back to that back burner. But on this anniversary of my big life change, I will restate what I have been saying for the past year—my leg amputation is not a big deal. It may have opened doors for me, made countless of new friends, and even given me a voice to honestly and candidly talk about things that are foreign to others, but I’m still me. Always have been, and hopefully, always will be.

I did think that my one-year anniversary would be the end of something, and that I would be able to get on with my life. But no, that’s not the case. I know, of course, that I have been getting on with my life since before Day One. I never stopped being a dad, and in many ways I am a better one, because I can teach my children and their friends about overcoming adversity. It’s a lesson I could have told them about, but every single one of my writing classes have instilled on basic premise of good writing: Show, Don’t Tell. (Not to be confused with Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, or If You See Something, Say Something.)

We Jewish people see the one-year anniversary of a person’s death as the end of the period of mourning. The stone is unveiled, and this period of limbo comes to an end. But life goes on! …and I’ve got to go, because I’m running late!

A Hockey Video Hat Trick

Hello, sports fans.

Last weekend, leading up to Veteran’s Day 2012, I was lucky enough to be part of The 3rd Annual Sled Hockey Classic, presented by the NHL itself. Up near the Canadian border town of Buffalo, NY, 12 teams gathered from cities as far and wide as St. Louis, Tampa Bay, Dallas and Colorado, not to mention the more local travelers from Pittsburgh, Philly, Boston, and us in New York.

The purpose of the event was twofold: to bring together NHL-supprted teams to battle in a highly competitive and intensive sled hockey event, and to bring awareness to the sporting public on the contributions of the NHL and USA Hokcey to grow disabled hockey as a sport. Both goals were reached quite easily. We played five games within 48 hours, and while we didn’t place as well as we would have liked to, we certainly saw where we as a team need to work, refine and grow to battle in our regular Northeast Season.

Here are three videos which really explain what went on this past weekend, because I would have to write too many superlatives to convey the feelings that these mighty ice warriors are able to say with their bodies and actions.

The first video was created by the Buffalo Sabres, and it mainly talks about the amazing stories of the U.S. veterans who use this adaptive sport to regain their lives.

CLICK THE IMAGE ABOVE TO WATCH VIDEO
If you blinked around 2:38, you would have missed me. (I’m Rangers #88)

Second is a video from the local CW affiliate, WIVB, lamenting the NHL lockout, but celebrating the NSHL. The Rangers are heavily featured, especially Vic and Sara!

CLICK THE IMAGE ABOVE TO WATCH VIDEO

And the third video is the most personal to me, because it’s about me personally. It was made by my nephew Billy, who goes to SUNY Buffalo, he made it for a media arts class. The assignment was to make a documentary using no direct interviews. I think he scored a goal here. Thanks, Neph! (Just edit out the first 21 seconds of black next time!)

Next up: The season! Starting early tomorrow in Connecticut.

My Favorite Robots and Cyborgs (and an Android)

Now that I have a robot leg with a microchip in it, I thought I would share with you my off-the-top-of-my head list of my favorite robots, cyborgs and an android or two.

CAN YOU NAME THEM ALL?AND WHO DID I LEAVE OUT?

Answers and descriptions to come!

“Good News, Everybody!”

It’s been five long months since I last published my crazy one-legged adventures, and I hope you’ve missed me as much as I’ve missed you. It was an easy yet tough decision to put my blog on hiatus, as it took a lot of effort and energy to write and edit my posts, but at the same time, it was invaluable to my recovery to report and share my stories. Plus, it actually took less time to mass communicate than it did to tell so many people I care about the same stories one at a time. But it was time to look forward only, and not back. I had too much to do.

Once I was handed that analog Otto Bock prosthetic leg from The Hanger Clinic back in February, there was no stopping me. My Facebook friends know where I’ve been over the past five months. They could find me at Physical Therapy, climbing playground equipment with my kids, skating on center ice of Madison Square Garden in my hockey sled, traveling up and down the east coast in my left-gas-pedal Honda, hanging out 4,000 feet high in the air in a glider, running around with Kim Cattrall in Central Park, or the most fun of all… I’ve been back to work behind a desk and two computers for the past four months. Each of these feats could result in several blog posts. Like about the time I… Well, maybe one day I’ll tell you some of these tales. (Or: Maybe you’ll have to buy the book, especially for the chapter on dating.)

So today in my office commissary, I saw this wonderful coworker whom I hadn’t seen for nearly a year. She mentioned that she followed my blog with great interest. I apologized that it’s been five months since I last wrote, and she replied, “That’s great! That means you’re living!” Sure enough! But to live is to share, and as I opened up with the “Good News Everybody!” quote, I should let you know what it is.

I have been telling myself for months that my next blog post would be my announcement that I finally have a C-Leg. It took a little longer than expected, and it’s nobody’s fault. Everything has been a process. Sometimes processes force you to take a fresh look at an old problem, or figure out a simpler solution. But I’m happy to report that everything worked out exactly as planned. I hope to be able to tell you this story in full in the future as well. It turned out to be a really nice and positive one. Suffice to say, A Huge Thank You to everyone who has made this a reality for me, as well as for anyone else who might ever need this technology. I couldn’t be more proud or happy to be a part of this community.

As my supervisor often comments as we discuss the latest amputee-in-the-news-story, “Look what you’ve started!” I mean, every week, there’s a fresh amputee update, whether it’s a mom who saved her kids from a tornado but lost her legs, a tragic college girl who got a flesh-eating bacteria after a zipline injury, or a cool Florida dude whose arm was mistaken for an alligator snack. There have been key characters in Battleship, Brave, The Amazing Spider-Man movies, as well as Dr. Pepper and Nike commercials, and of course, in the world of sports, too. In less than two weeks, “Blade Runner” Oscar Pistorius will make Olympic history and the world will be watching.

As of today, my actual C-Leg is still at the clinic, because my new socket is a little too loose, and unlike my current pin-based socket, my next socket will be suction based, and it needs to be tiiiiiiiiiiight! You can see how much my residual limb has shrunk in the past few months due to general use and abuse. The socket on the left was made months ago. When I first started, I could barely fit in it. The one on the right is brand new, and it’s too big for me. Pay no attention to the height of it. That will be lessened. We’ll try again later this week. That’s why it’s called a fitting. We’ll be married soon.

You can also see the fabric that I used to personalize my socket on the left. I was looking for a starfish skin-like design, and found this one instead. It reminds me of a wood grain, marble, muscles, or a lava flow. It has also been compared to a roasted turkey. My next fabric will be pretty spectacular. After looking at all kinds of Star Wars, Batman, Camouflage, Day of the Dead Skulls, and Harley Davidson flames, I wanted to keep it consistent with the brown Ottobock C-Leg casing, and find something spectacular that I would be happy to wear each day. I hope the metallic look will still shine through after it gets heat stamped onto the carbon fiber. Here is the design:

People have asked me what the new C-Leg feels like. I still don’t know, because the socket was too loose to take any steps with it. But I was able to go from standing up to a seated position. That was pretty exciting, I have to say! The knee bent so slowly and so smoothly. It will take a little getting used to. I’ve gotten pretty good with my current one… but not so good that I haven’t fallen occasionally. I’ll admit, there were some stumbles and some tumbles. And there still may be in the future. But if you fall down eight times, you get up nine.

Well, I’d write more now, but I’ve got to get to bed to get to work in the morning. And I’d write more this weekend, but I’ll be busy Dadding, or I may be waterskiing (not wearing the C-Leg, of course… you can’t get it wet!). I’m sure we’ll catch up soon. You know we’ll have a good time then, yeah, you know we’ll have a good time then!

😀

Relaxing At Home

Watching cartoons with Clever. First evening with metal leg. Finally able to cross legs and relax.

I Go Swimming…

One of the best things about my apartment complex is my indoor pool, so I could swim all year round with my two sons, who are part fish themselves.

The last time I jumped in the water with them was October, a week before my cancer diagnosis. My swollen knee prevented me from jumping into the water, so I used the steps, and it was tough to give the boys all the attention that they needed. I kept close to Rocky to keep him safe, but Clever didn’t have anyone to horse around, splash, and play with. Such is the life of a single dad with two kids (SD2K).

It’s been months now, and Clev and Rock have been asking me when we can all go swimming again. I just hadn’t felt ready until all of my band-aids fell off, and I started my hockey therapy. Once I felt like taking the dip, I decided to jump in with both… well… with my one foot. And to make it something of an event, on Valentine’s Day, and when, of course, my kids can be with me to be a part of my rehab. So here’s that first dive, as well as me finding out what my new body was capable of… and not capable of. Thanks to my good buddy John for recording it for me, and for being such a great swimming buddy to the kids!

The number one question that I have heard was “How did it feel?” and the answer is as complex as feelings themselves. It felt exhilarating; it felt strange. The way my submerged residual limb interacted with the water was completely unexpected. Imagine feeling the pressure of the water in each direction in ways that air and clothing just can’t create. I mean, I know that that’s what swimming always is, but the way I was able to spin underwater, turn so close to the wall, and the differences of my basic underwater moves… Strange isn’t strong enough a word. My boyancy is also off. I can’t get to the bottom of the pool very easily. I now can understand the joke: What do you call a guy with no arms and no legs floating in the water? “Bob.” I know… it’s terrible.

So when I started underwater kicking after my dive, I loved having the mobility that I don’t have on the ground without crutches, yet I still felt held back by having only 50% of my previous kick-power. I used to be able to travel under the water to the far end of the pool, but this time, I only made it half way. I felt like Nemo, with his little “lucky fin.” The whole situation reminds me of the “Jump Froggy Jump” joke, which I’ve been telling for the past 35 years. Beware… it’s another bad one.

Well, I thought it was funny.

Watching myself swimming on video was a great treat for me. I could see that my dive was a little belly-floppy, so I know I need to work on that. Also, my freestyle has been criticized for taking up more energy than necessary, and I’m glad to hear the constructive criticism. I need to learn how to breathe properly, too, and then I’ll see how many laps I could do.

But for now, I’m very happy to take these steps, one at a time, and soon, I’ll be back to “normal”… whatever that is!

Hockey, 2nd Period + Bowling

Getting out onto the ice and getting into sports therapy has triggered something in me that I really like.

Since I first tried sled hockey last Monday in a scrimmage match at the Rangers Practice Rink, I had another session of skating practice on Thursday. We did sprints, slaloms, figure 8s, relays, fall-downs and get-back-ups. It was terrific but as soon as the session was finished, the stomach bug that’s been attacking America hit me and laid me up for two days. But as soon as I was better, I found myself driving up to Saugerties to watch—and maybe participate in—real matches against real opposing teams.

The New York Rangers were playing two games—one against a team from New Jersey and another from Vermont. And the great news was that Mike was able to get me on the roster for both of the games, and find a Rangers uniform so I fit on the team. In game one, I played for two minutes, which came and went in a flash, but was pulse-pounding! But in game two, I was on the third line and got about twelve minutes of ice time! I played left wing, skated as fast as I could, passed the puck a few times, tried to position myself and realized how much I needed to learn about how to actually play hockey of any kind. But that’s ok, because I’ll learn from the best, especially Hat-Trick-Mike-Hudson!

But the greatest thrill of the day came when I hopped off the ice, and there was Rocket in the bleachers, running toward me. He was so excited! He told me three things: “Congratulations, Daddy!”, “The Rangers Won!”, and “You are a Superhero, Daddy!” Needless to say, I love my fans! 

THE DAY AIN’T OVER, YET…

When I got home, still on a rush, I swapped sons, delivering Rocket and grabbing Clever. We each had big days, so I wanted to take him out for dinner to see how his Grease audition went and tell him about my audition. As we drove down the road, trying to decide where to eat, I realized that there was a restaurant attached to the new bowling alley in town. I have been itching to bowl, and it’s taking so long to get my metal leg that I couldn’t wait any longer! So, I tried “Chair Bowling!”

Clever was amazing. He delivered each and every ball to me as my own personal caddy. And on top of that, he bowled his new high score of 110. As far as my own scores, they stank on ice, even with marking a few times, but I had just as many chair-leg-ricochet gutters. I still had a terrific time! And once I get my new leg, I’ll create a new approach, and maybe join a weekly league. If there are any other Westchester Cyborgs out there who want to roll, let me know! I’ve got one bowling trophy, and he’s kind of lonely.

Other People

I remember a classic Peanuts cartoon where Linus or Lucy or Charlie Brown asks “why are we here?,” and another kid answers, “to make other people happy,” and the first kid asks, “Then why are other people here?”

When I was with the rabbi before my surgery, he remarked about how calm and collected I was. He asked me “Where do you get your strength?” Strength? I wondered… I didn’t even know what strength was. I was only coping with my situation in the only way I knew how. I had a choice to make, and it was one or the other. I did my research, I solicited advice, I meditated, pondered and prayed. But what gave me the strength to be able to do this, instead of curling up in a fetal position and sucking my thumb until someone made the decision for me? I don’t know if the rabbi was fishing for me to answer, “I get my strength from God.” That would have been a good response, but not the most accurate for me personally. And I knew God would know if I were fibbing! So I answered with the most honest response I could:

“I get my strength from other people.”

The more I think about it, the more this concept becomes a double-edged sword.

I don’t know when it started, my desire to make other people happy, or to care what other people thought of me, or how they felt about me. I think that sometimes I’d be better off if I wasn’t so creative and sensitive, and instead let criticism roll off my back like water off a duck. I am so impressed by sales people who get rejected time and again, only to get up that ninth time, and close the big deal on the tenth try. I–or at least the old me–would have tried once, maybe twice, and then gone back to lick my wounds.

As the youngest of three siblings, my job was often to be the jokester and the entertainment in the car. From an early age, I had memorized all of Steve Martin’s comedy albums, especially the inappropriate ones, and tried my hand at various impressions. My kindergarten report card noted that I would do better with my studies if I weren’t so social. The report also noted I was witty, so at least I was good at being social.

And now, I have this little social blog I’ve started. I’ve always wanted to have something like this to communicate with friends and strangers alike. But I’ve never really had anything to say or to sell, until now. But I’ve been preparing my whole life: In elementary school, I was editor of the Sagtikos yearbook. In junior high school, I wrote for the xeroxed newsletter. In high school, I really took off as entertainment section editor of The Slate. There, I also was “The Roving Reporter Guy,” asking students the most ridiculous questions, in search of even more ridiculous answers. And then in college, I became editor in chief of Hofstra’s humor magazine, Nonsense, while also the editorial section editor of The Chronicle, the weekly newspaper. I communicated with my friends and strangers on a regular basis, and there wasn’t a more exciting day than circulation day, the day our words and pictures were disseminated across the campus. Usually, the next twenty four hours were filled with positive feedback and encouragement. But there were also some times that the publication staff had a date in the principal’s office. Here’s part of the double-edged sword. What happens when we open our hearts only to be rejected, scolded, or otherwise harmed? And sometimes, it’s entirely our faults, because we over-reached, or under-thought? There’s a lot of responsibility required when communicating with a large audience, or a small one. But it is always worth doing.

I imagine for some people, celebrities especially, it is so easy to not care what other people think. But for many people, praise from outside sources makes us feel good inside. Who doesn’t feel better when someone says they loves them? When someone is told that another person is thinking of them? Or when someone even takes their time and their hard-earned money to send over cookies with smiley faces on them, or a bouquet of chocolate bars, or a duffle bag filled with DVDs and magazines, or a basket of pears, or even just a greeting card? I am humbled by the outpouring of emotion and generosity, and the hits keep coming daily. And I ask myself, what have I done to deserve this? I’m just living my life, trying to stay alive with the least amount of pain possible. But the bottom line, I tell myself, is that it doesn’t matter what I have done. What matters is what I will do.

And what I will do is this. This is a promise, not just to you, but also to myself. I will keep exercising. I will keep eating well. I will keep a positive attitude. I will keep striving to do better than I did yesterday. I will keep thinking about how much better tomorrow will be. I will make tomorrow a better day. I will do all of these things, not just for myself, but also for other people. People who are supposed to look up to me, like my two boys. They are in my foremost thoughts. But I will also keep it up for my family, who opened their home to me, who have taken me to every doctor appointment, who feed me and do my laundry, who have never once given up on me ever, and who are there if and when I fall. And I will continue to keep all of my friends and coworkers in my heart and mind as I continue my physical therapy to get back to full strength and speed. I have too many plans in the coming year that I am looking to achieve, and I am not planning to do any of them alone. I expect for you to be by my side. And I will continue to do all of this for all of those people I don’t know yet, who have been led to my blog by friends of friends, or came here accidentally. If I can be a positive influence on you, then I am living up to my promise.

I’ve made no secret that this has been a tough year for me, even before my cancer was revealed to me. And here’s the other side of the “other people” sword. If other people can make us feel good, can other people make us feel bad? Why do we let them, and how can we stop it?

I know that there will be those quiet days and nights in the future when I am alone. When the applause dies down, and I only have the pictures in my head of the way life was, of the things I’ve lost. When I may count my failings instead of my blessings. I may think of the people who have wronged me, or judged me, instead of the people who uplift me. These can be dark and scary emotions. I’ve seen them and felt them. But I’m happy to say that they’re all in the past. If I ever take one step down that dark path again, I will remember this past month, and all of the positive messages that I have received from the hundreds of people who have reached out to me, and to you, I dedicate my new positive life.

I know many other people who live under these clouds day in and day out, with little chance of getting better on their own. We all know sad sack Eeyores in our lives. The ones who can’t take charge of their careers, can’t realize their dreams, can’t meet a significant man or woman because they won’t leave their apartment, or they’ve crawled inside a bottle and just can’t get out. Maybe they only see the gray cloud. Some people are just flat out sick and need help, just like I needed help with my cancer, and they might see a better day ahead. My cancer needed to be cut out of my life, and with it went any negative feelings that I had towards other people and towards my own inadequacy. I am not advocating for everyone to have your leg amputated to get an attitude adjustment, but for me, it was certainly a paradigm shift that rocked my world to the core, and made me a better, happier, more well-rounded person.

Sophie’s Choice

I must admit, I never saw Sophie’s Choice, but from what I understand her two choices were “not good” and “worse.” at least, that what my friend John described the two options placed in front of me.

The hospital gave me names of people who I can call upon who had each type of surgery: limb salvation and amputation. I needed to find out which one was “not good” and which one was “worse.”

I called the amputee, who works at a prosthetic provider, which I affectionately call “a leg store.” I went to meet her in her office, and as soon as I arrived, there were about six people waiting in chairs in a circle, sort of an impromptu rap session. I sized everyone up based on what they were missing, and immediately gravitated towards another above-the-knee amputee, Carl, who showed me videos on his phone of him skiing down hill and popping a wheelie on his motorcycle. Don’t get me wrong: Carl was a nut with two legs, and I’m not going to rush out and get a motorcycle, although I would look really cool on one. Everyone there was happy and fantastic and they each had stories to share that reinforced the motto on the wall: “Life Without Limitations”.

I phoned the gentleman who had the knee replacement surgery, also known as limb salvation. He had been through several additional operations. He still plays golf, but not as well. He said he feels sorry for people behind him as he slowly walks down stairs at baseball games. This gentleman is 18 years older than me, is happily married, and his kids were in college when he had to decide. I asked him why he made that decision, and he said that he wanted to see his toes in the morning. I can completely understand his choice. “but what does your leg look like?” I asked him. He told me it doesn’t look pretty. In fact, he wraps his leg in flesh-colored cloth so people don’t stare.

For me, the choice was hard, but the decision was easy. I do not want to shuffle my body along with the goal of one day being able to walk up the stairs. I have so much life to live. I have a bucket list of all kinds of crazy crap to do… Jump out of a plane immediately comes to mind. Prosthetics have come such a far way, thanks in part to all of our wars. (A side note to anyone who is calling me brave–our soldiers are brave, I’m just trying to survive!)

As I have been joking to friends, I have no plans to run a marathon. But I don’t want to run a marathon because I’m lazy, not because I can’t!

And so, my choice, doctor, is to choose the amputation. And after this whole month of soul-searching and looking for the answer of what i should do, my doctor validated my choice by sharing with me that if it were she who needed to make the choice, she would also choose amputation. “Oh, now you tell me?! Why all the hoops?” “Because,” she answered, “you needed to figure it out for yourself… If I told you that was the best hung for you, you might have freaked out.”

In many ways, it goes against reason. “Save the leg at all costs!” was an early rally cry. But at what price. It was very interesting to watch how loved ones and friends processed the decision, and watching them make their own decision as if they were in my place. And I know that not only am I making the right choice, but I am not standing alone. I have many people standing alongside me, ready to help me make my new first steps.

My favorite stories come, of course, from my kids, who I broke the news to on Thanksgiving. My older son, 9, said that a metal leg is not what he wanted. I told him I couldn’t agree more. It’s not what I wanted either, but if we’re ever going to hike up to Hawkwatch together again, this is what I needed to do. I can’t be grounded. I can’t just watch from the sidelines. “Well, Dad, at least on Halloween, you’ll make a really good sailor.” (I think he meant pirate!) My 4-year-old, bless him, who can’t quite process what I was talking about, was far more interested in looking at my get well and birthday cards taped up to the wall. But later, when he saw my stitches from the biopsy site, I told him, “that’s where they had to look inside to see how to make me better. And remember what I said earlier? I’m going to get a metal leg from here down…”

“…and then you’ll be better?” he asked.

“and then I’ll be better.” I said.

“…and then we’ll have sleepovers?” he asked.

“and then we’ll have sleepovers.” I confirmed.

That’s all my kids really want… More fun times with their old man. And that’s exactly what they’re going to get!

(Is this the first post you’re reading? If so, go back in time and read the whole story… But don’t ask me how to do it; I’m sort of new to blogging.)