Setbacks.

Whenever I see or talk to anyone who knows me even a little, one of the first things they will ask is, “Are you getting a prosthetic?”

The answer is yes. But the “when” is super frustrating.

See, I was supposed to get casted for my prosthetic on May 19, and my recovery was going super well. I had my staples out, and the last little scabs on Jimmy were healing nicely.

Then, I developed an opening in my suture line on the left side of the stump, which wasn’t infected, but it did open up, and so my casting was postponed until June 4.

Unfortunately for me, the wound didn’t heal quickly enough, and they don’t want to do the fitting until the wound is closed, so they postponed again, until June 23, which is today.

Well, about two weeks ago, another small scab opened up and became a little bit of an open wound. My home health nurse and my wound care specialist both said that this was the result of a stitch below the skin surface “spitting.”

If you are unfamiliar with this term, as I was, here is the definition:

“Spitting stitches (or spitting sutures) occur when the body rejects deep, dissolvable surgical stitches, pushing them out through the skin instead of dissolving them internally.”

Interesting, right? Who knew a body would do that?

Not me, for sure.

It would be so much more fascinating to me if it were happening in theory. Instead, it’s another setback.

Believe me, I want to be walking and practicing how to get around more than anyone in the world. Sure, I’m pretty great in the wheelchair and on the walker, but it would be a blessing to pee standing up again.

I am trying my hardest to maintain a positive attitude while these setbacks continue, and I DO understand that it will be better to do all of this when fully healed, I really do.

But setbacks are hard, and they suck. A lot.

I just want you to know that, if you’re going through something like this, and you have a frustration, or a fall, or a setback, I feel you.

I really f’n feel you.

One day, this will all seem like a short period of time, and I will be up and walking. And peeing. Gloriously peeing.

But today, I am just waiting. Waiting and hoping my body doesn’t decide to spit again. And that the work I’m doing to keep myself fit and controlled works to help me heal.

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As always, if you have it in you, please give a thought to donating time or money to Hospice Austin. They do amazing work for people who are going through the hardest thing a person can face.

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