How’s Callie doing?
We get asked that a lot. Thankfully because we have a huge tribe and a lot of people that care about our little warrior.
It seems like a simple enough question….but sometimes it’s not. I never know exactly how to answer it.
If you don’t live with us 24/7 it’s hard to explain. Because on the outside, you can see her walking with her prosthetic and living her little life to the fullest. Which she 100% does and which we will continue to move heaven and earth to make sure she can continue to do so.
But what you don’t see is…..
The multiple appointments we have to build her legs.
The stress of not knowing when she’s going to hit a growth spurt and simply grow out of her leg–making it painful for her to even wear until a new one can be built.
You don’t see the focus she has to have when walking in a new leg. The balance and thought she has to put into it until she adjusts to it.
You don’t see us washing her sleeve every single night and putting cream on her leg because she can get sores otherwise. Sores mean she can’t wear her leg and we never want her to be sidelined.
You don’t see James rubbing her leg at night before she goes to bed because she has phantom limb pain. You don’t see me stumbling into her room to comfort her when she wakes up in pain in the middle of the night…a pain in a limb that’s not even there.
You don’t see the cost of all of these things. The astronomical soul crushing cost.
You don’t see us clothes shopping….because finding pants are hard. Finding shoes are hard. Don’t get me started on boots.
You don’t see the calls from the school nurse saying a screw came out of her leg and now she can’t walk. Having to explain to my bosses that I have to leave work because otherwise my daughter is immobile unless we can get her leg fixed quickly.
You don’t see her little face when someone points to her leg. The flash of pain when she knows they just made fun of her.
You don’t see her eyes when she realizes something is physically not feasible for her to do. The light that leaves her eyes and the slump in her shoulders.
You don’t see my heart break when she asks why this has happened to her and why she has to deal with this.
You don’t see the emotional burden of this for her. For us.
You don’t see how tired we are and how many sleepless nights we’ve had.
You don’t see that we never want your pity but are humbled, grateful, and blessed by your empathy, love and support.
You don’t see that I long for you to “get it” but I also pray that you NEVER have to experience it first hand………
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