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Blog > Thoughts > Other's Thoughts > Woodie's Thoughts > Hope Springs Eternal

Hope Springs Eternal

Written by Woodie on Thursday, January 29, 2009

You would think most people might see BIID as some form of self mutilation by people who have serious mental issues with their own physical state. I know I did for a very long time. Not that I knew what it was called, it just didn’t seem right that a perfectly healthy and functioning limb could be amputated to make for a better life, how could it? And again, someone who actually went and done such a thing must surely be seen and treated as plain, straight insane, right?

Well, as the saying goes, "truth is stranger than fiction" and for me, all the aforementioned questions have now shown completely the opposite answers that I assumed would occur.

From childhood and on through my teens I always thought I was the only one on the planet with the absurd notion of being an amputee. It may have started out as nothing more than an idea of a curious child, but as I grew older I quickly began to realise it was a lot more than just an idea.

All kids have odd and unusual ideas as they grow, and I was no different, but for the fact that this idea never passed. More so, that it began to invade every aspect of my life as I grew older. And unless you’ve ever kept such a secret to yourself for more than 30 years, I don’t think you can really understand what it does to a person. No one can ever insult and degrade you as much as your own mind can with a plethora of intimate self devaluations. It’s only later in life that you begin to see the failings of what fear, doubt and self loathing has kept you from attempting in life.  

For more than 25 years I was hinged on living between fear, doubt, denial and above all, a front of a happy and stable child through to adulthood. I knew I could never get into a long term relationship and allow her to know my ambition. Let’s face it, women are raised to believe beauty is in the perfect model of completeness, so what would she think of this? What would she say? I could only imagine she would have to call for stakes to be drawn and a fire lit for this stray witch to be burned.

Education was the least of my concerns because I truly couldn’t see any future anyway. I would be found out eventually, shunned by society and therefore not worth employing, no matter what profession I chose. That is, if not dead by 30. As it all turned out, I passed 30 several years ago. Thankfully the Internet had come into my grasp and I spent the next 5 years learning there was a name for what I had and that I wasn’t the only one with such an absurd deviation. Quite the contrary! There are literally thousands of people across the globe who are open enough to join online groups, start their own sites and blog their hearts out to whoever should be searching to know.

Unfortunately though, what I also learnt was that I could talk to psychological and surgical professionals until I was blue in the face and I would never get any closer to what I truly believed I needed. No drug, practice or treatment had ever shown to work, AT ALL, and no surgeon was ever going to touch me because of  bureaucratic stammerings and a total misunderstanding by those who only have scant details of what BIID actually is.

Therefore, at the age of 35 I came to the conclusion that I had either of two options. Option one being a bucket of dry ice and see what the consequences may hold. And option two, a large bottle of alcohol, a hand full of "never mind" from an urban "chemist" and a quiet place to rest. I knew if I could attempt option one but fail, I could surely attempt option two with a little more vigore. And once more fate has shown me never to assume destiny.

After preparing and placing my leg into dry ice for over four hours, I then wound up stretched out in an emergency ward, explaining BIID to a nurse as she tried hopelessly to thaw my frozen leg back to some resemblance of a living organism. Seeing the pointlessness of her efforts and my explanation, I was then transported to another hospital where they too kept up with the warm water of futility. Now the smallest parts of the vessels in my leg had begun to expel the ruptured cells back into my blood stream and I rapidly drew closer to renal failure. "That was clever of them" I wondered as I once again threw up and then explained what I had done and why I had done it to yet another group of astounded nurses.

What was truly astounding to me was the total lack of spite and disgust I had always imagined I would be shovelled with, upon such an event. I can only say I was in more shock from that relevation than the frozen leg and resulting blood poisoning could have ever produced. The surgeon who was to do my amputation also, as respectful and kind as she was, couldn’t understand why I was insisting on an above knee amputation at an exact spot when she believed she should try to save the knee. The point of it being that I had always known exactly where it should come off, and anywhere beneath or above that would be a total failure. What I couldn’t understand is why she insisted on trying to save what we both knew she had no chance of reviving. She did however, amputate exactly where I had pleaded for her to work. For that I am ever greatful.

When I had finally woken up from surgery, I recall a very deep relief. It was slow, but the more I came to realise the leg was finally gone, I couldn’t help but feel relaxed by the resolve. In the following days I had recovered enough to get out of bed and learn the new art of crutching. It wasn’t a joy, but rather just another means of mobility and only a part of the life choice I had made. Several months later I had been fitted with a prosthetic leg and I am now, for the most part, back to doing what I was doing before. I wont be running a marathon, skiing or climbing a mountain any time soon, but I never wanted to do it before anyway. I do know the possibilities are still are open to me though.

What I do have now is the willingness to participate in family, social and community life, more than ever before.  

Its been a little less than six months since the initial event and I can only say that I am happy to see each new day with the sense of self worth and purpose I should have had from the day I was born.

This wasn’t about loosing a leg, it was about gaining my own sense of self. Now I am finding new directions wherever I look.

Tags: Amputation, BIID, Dry Ice, Surgery

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