It's been a while (I'm still here)

D-Day is tomorrow. For those reading this, it may already have happened. Most people know that I don’t generally talk about myself, or like to release too many personal details about my life. That being said, the following has weighed heavily on my mind for the past three weeks, and I just want to let everyone in on what’s happening, partially as a courtesy, and partially simply because I want to talk about it.

I may have mentioned once or twice that I have hemophilia, a genetic disorder wherein my blood does not clot properly. Simply put, it means that my wounds don’t heal as quickly as a normal person’s and I’m more prone to injury. It occurs in about 1 out of every 1000 males (but is not unheard of in females). Every hemophiliac is different, and no two have had the exact same experiences, at least to my knowledge.

This brings me to the year 1989. I was six years old, just going into the first grade. I think it was summer because I remember the sun shining, and I don’t think I was in school when it happened. But the fact remains that…something happened. My memory is a little fuzzy on all the details, but I specifically remember my step-father carrying me, running, across the hospital parking lot to what I think was the emergency room. I also remember being in a hospital bed with half a dozen doctors standing over me, trying what they could to make me comfortable, telling me to go back to sleep. Now that I think about it, it sounds like the intro to about a dozen creepypastas, but I assure you it’s not nearly as entertaining.
Now, the “something” that happened to me involved a knee injury. Most, if not all, hemophiliacs have what is called a “target joint,” a joint that is more prone to injury than any other. For most, it’s the right knee. Such was it in my case. One day, I somehow injured myself (like I said, I don’t remember all the details), and I was rushed to the hospital. It was there that they attempted to treat the now internal bleeding in my knee with antihemophilic factor (Factor VIII). Normally, this would work, and my knee would heal itself in time. However, I was not so lucky. I had developed an inhibitor, a not-completely-uncommon reaction to injectable Factor VIII where the body believes that the factor is some kind of foreign, harmful material, and it sends antibodies to fight it off, making the factor useless. By the time the doctors were able to find a factor that worked, the damage to my knee had already been done: the cartilage in the joint was all but nonexistent, and my knee had practically fused itself together.

I won’t go into too much detail here, partially because I don’t want to trouble you with the painful memories of my childhood, and partially because I want to get to the point of this post:

For the last two decades I’ve had to wear a brace that covers my entire leg. A brace that has slowly and steadily withered my leg into, basically, a useless stick. Sure, I can put weight on it if I have to, and I can even walk without my brace for short periods of time. But with my knee being the way it is, it’s affected the way I walk, nay the way I conduct myself in my daily life, for 20+ years. I have painful arthritis in my right ankle, which I’ve tried to remedy with physical therapy and steroid injections to no avail, as well as a host of other problems.

Several months ago, the pain in my ankle was beginning to come to a head, and I was looking for a surgical way out. I had already gone through an arthroscopy on that ankle, and I wanted to know what my other options were, so I sought the advice of an ankle specialist. He said that with my knee the way it was, there really was no permanent solution for my ankle trouble until I got my knee fixed. Three weeks ago, I saw a knee specialist. The primary option for those in my situation was a full joint replacement, which I and my family were all on board for.

However, the knee specialist, for lack of a better term, shot that option down. He, in no uncertain terms, deemed that my situation was simply too challenging (from a surgical standpoint), risky (infections and the like), and probably wouldn’t help me from a functional standpoint (since most of the time, the surrounding leg is well enough to withstand such a surgery, and mine, clearly would not). We discussed a few other options, which were equally unfeasible (complete knee fusion, and doing nothing), and a more radical solution was brought up: complete amputation.

I was shocked. Not because such a radical (and some might say barbaric) solution was put on the table, but because, in moments of desperation, I had in fact considered this very option. But any time I would think about this, I would simply laugh it off as being too absurd for any surgeon to even consider.

But here we were, the knee specialist and myself, in a room, talking about amputation! The specialist claimed that from a functional standpoint, as well as a pain management standpoint, an amputation might be the way to go. I recall getting a bit misty-eyed as I thought of being able to sit comfortably in a movie theatre, or being able to put my leg under a dinner table and not be a bother to anyone. I could ride a bike like a “normal” person, I could walk up and down stairs foot-over-foot… It’s the little things, isn’t it? Those things that some of us want most dearly in life, some others take for granted. A tear came to my eye as I wrote this, and I sincerely apologize if one came to your eye as well. I didn’t mean it.

We, the doctor and I, didn’t discuss it too much because (I believe) the doctor was quite uncomfortable speaking about it. However, he referred me to another fellow in the hospital who specializes in reconstruction and amputation.

I’ve been asking my friends and family their opinions for the past three weeks. Most, while not entirely for the amputation itself, are for me being happy with whatever decision I make. I really can’t thank them enough. Two people are completely against me going through the procedure (one being my mother, whom I love dearly), and I also thank them for their input.

I believe at this point, I’m leaning toward getting the amputation. I’ve already considered the financial factors as well as the lifestyle changes I would have to make to accommodate my new leg. All that’s left is to have a dialogue with the doctor himself, which is the aforementioned D-Day that’s happening tomorrow.

Thank you, Reader, for listening.

Also, like I said in the title, I'm still here, and I still plan on being the Fanfiction Mod (even though I'm a little behind. I deeply, deeply apologize).