It Was a Small Freak Accident. Then They Said 'Amputate'
2023 was the worst year of my life. Granted, this entire journey began at the tail end of 2022.
I used to work for a global technology company. At the start of each fiscal year the company sends its employees, depending on skills and roles, for training. It’s usually alongside other colleagues from other countries in the region. In September of 2022, I flew to Singapore with other colleagues to attend training on the following year’s targets and objectives.
At the end of the very first day of training, as was customary, there was a group dinner with everybody as a form of bonding for everyone to get to know each other and to catch up. At the end of the night when everyone was all set to go back to their respective hotels, that's when it happened. A small misstep, a freak accident, and I fractured my ankle. My colleagues called for an ambulance, and I was brought to the nearest hospital. The hospital treated the fracture and put titanium pins into my ankle.
The next three weeks in the hospital were miserable. It was the end of COVID, so the hospital had very strict protocols that limited visitors. My colleagues and Filipino friends had limited visitation times due to the protocols. After the first three weeks I insisted that I be allowed to fly back to the Philippines.
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The next day after returning to the Philippines, I was instructed to see local doctors to continue treatment. The local doctors at St. Luke’s Medical Center in Quezon City took a look and determined that my wound, which was just the surgical incision made in my ankle during the first operation, had become infected so I was quickly admitted into the hospital and pumped with antibiotics. I had a few procedures done to take out any necrotic tissue. After another two weeks in the hospital, I was sent home.
I spent the next several months going back and forth to the hospital while my wound was closing up. At that time, I was going around in a wheelchair, hoping that my wound would heal and I can finally start walking again. The end of April 2023, just as my wound finally closed, my doctors noticed something strange and ordered a few tests. After all this time, I had developed an infection in my bones. I had to be admitted again for another dose of antibiotics.
The choice
Then came the news, after being treated with antibiotics my ortho came in and discussed with me the options before me to save my leg. I would need to go through a number of procedures to address the infection on my bones, and even then there will still be the possibility of recurrence of the infection. At the very end, my doctor had very quietly mentioned as a last resort the word “amputation.” I could remember his words very clearly. Amputation will give me the most predictable outcome; after all you cut out the infection, and that's it. At that point, staying at the hospital and undergoing more procedures had already become a traumatic experience for me, so I did not want any more procedures done. After a quick consultation with my family, I decided to go for the amputation. I informed my doctor immediately of my decision and asked him additional questions to understand the repercussions of my decision. They quickly scheduled the operation, and I was all set.
Just as with any operation, fears were beginning to set in, but I was all set to get on with my life.
The operation and road to recovery
The operation happened in May 2023. After the operation, I spent the next few days in physical therapy as they taught me how to get around with only one leg. I was also introduced to a new doctor who would help get me ready for a prosthetic. Traditionally, a prosthetic could be ready in six months when my stump has normalized in size and shape. The stubborn person that I am asked if there was any way I could get a temporary prosthetic while my stump normalized.
Six weeks after my amputation I was fitted for my first temporary prosthetic. I'd gone through a few other temporary prosthetics until I finally got one which was comfortable and quite usable. I then spent the next few months learning how to walk again.
The next few months at home was me adjusting to my new normal. Learning how to do things with one leg was quite an adventure. A lot of things that I used to do, I could no longer do. The simple task of just taking a bath itself was quite a challenge.
Learning to walk, something I used to do without thinking, was something I had to relearn. Moving about evolved from being in a wheelchair, to using a walker, to where I am now with using a cane; aside from trying to learn to walk normally and dispense with the cane which is just there to help with my PTSD and my feeling that I might fall.
Hermit mode
When my accident happened in September 2022 I kind of became radio silent. I wouldn't post anything on Facebook about what happened and even when friends dropped by to visit, I would always insist, “No pictures please.” It was the same leading up to my amputation and my final surgery, until word had gotten around about what happened to me. So right before the operation I started posting updates on what was happening with me. Immediately after the operation I went into a sort of hermit mode where I would decline visitors, in a way because I felt embarrassed about my situation of being incomplete.
After a few weeks of isolation, I eventually got out of hermit mode and started seeing people. People who would often ask about how I was and how I was doing, I asked to come over to the house and I gave my update. After getting my temporary prosthetic I got to see more people and was more mobile.
At six months, my stump had normalized in size and shape, so I got fitted for my permanent prosthetic. I also got myself fitted for a waterproof prosthetic which I could use while taking a shower. Face it: there are just some things you can't wash while sitting down.
On being a reluctant inspiration
With all of these developments, I started posting about my progress on Facebook. I'd boast about my progress and little triumphs. I was amazed by some of the reactions I would be getting. Friends would message me about how inspirational my journey has been. They would comment about how strong and how brave I was to go through what I am going through. The thing is, I've never considered myself a strong person, much less a brave one. People would say that if they were in my situation, they would not know what to do or how to go through the ordeal the same way I did. I just told people that I took on the ordeal from a rational point of view and not very emotional. I guess the fact that the amputation was my decision played a big role. It's not like I had an accident and woke up the next day with my foot gone. It's like I didn't go through the stages of grief. I went straight to acceptance.
I'd also mentioned I'm not someone who does self-pity. What would be the alternative? Spend the whole time at home sulking about how pitiful my situation is? What would that accomplish? I decided on an amputation and now I have to deal with it. So no, I didn’t go around sulking and telling myself, “Huhuhu, kawawa naman ako.” I felt I just needed to move forward and take on each challenge as it comes. Again, not because I'm brave but because I have to.
I don't know where I got the strength. Maybe being an analytical and rational person pushed me to just keep on going forward. As I said, I don't do self-pity. What would that accomplish? Yes, there were a lot of challenges, but every problem has a solution with varying degrees of difficulty.
It's a surreal feeling even just trying to get up from bed like the way I used to and being off balance as I have one less leg to help me achieve such balance. So yes, not only do I have to relearn how to walk, I have to relearn how to do a lot of things that I used to take for granted.
Reflections and realizations
To better understand my situation, I reached out to the Internet to learn about how people in my situation coped with their challenges. I quickly learned that it differs from person to person. Each amputee goes through his or her own sets of challenges and triumphs. As I watch videos on YouTube or read comments on amputee support groups on Facebook, I slowly realize that my progress is actually quite good compared to what other people seem to be going through.
One example for which I am grateful for is the fact that I don't seem to experience as much phantom pain (that sensation of feeling pain from the limb that's no longer there) as much as other people do.
One day, as I was in the mall buying something—by this time, I was already standing up, walking using my prosthetic-leg, but with the aid of a four-legged walker—I lined up at the priority lane behind some guy in a wheelchair. When he was done, he turned around, and I saw that he had no legs. This hit me. As I realized that despite whatever challenges I face, there are people who you could say are worse off than me, and yet still march on through life as best they could. The situations differ from person to person. I just count my blessings.
On blame and anger, confidence and “hiya”
I've often been asked by my friends if I'm angry by what happened. Perhaps I was angry at the fact that this even happened, but the anger soon disappeared. I don't place blame on anyone. I don't blame the company, the event, or even the event organizer for what happened. I accept the fact that it was a freak accident and could have happened to anyone. It just so happens that it happened to me. In a situation where there's no one to blame, I felt being angry did not serve any purpose.
One of the things I still have difficulty getting over is the confidence to appear in public in my situation. Since the time I was in a wheelchair, I felt a little embarrassed to be seen in public in my condition. I know I shouldn't be. But there's still that feeling of shame. I do realize that a lot of people really don't care or are not affected if they see me in a wheelchair. It's something I know I have to get over. It’s a “me” problem.
To this day, even with the prosthetic leg, I don't want to call attention to myself. I don’t wear shorts so that I don’t expose my prosthetic leg. I take the extra effort of always wearing pants to cover up my prosthetic leg so as not to invite curious eyes from people, especially children. The thing is, I know I'm not supposed to be embarrassed. One day, maybe I'll get over it and take pride in showing off my bionic leg as something cool and unique. One day.
The PWD advocacy
As I finally joined the category of PWD, I have found myself becoming more sensitive to the needs and wants of those in my situation. One of the first things I did early on was to apply for and get a PWD ID from my local government.
While I was applying for a PWD ID in my city, I noticed that the requirements for PWD IDs are quite broad and include a number of disabilities that are not just those who have mobility issues such as myself. There are typically two categories of disabilities: The first being those with an “apparent disability” such as an amputation like mine, which is pretty obvious.
Then there is a whole list of other disabilities under the category “non-apparent disability.” I won't go into that list now, but suffice to say that there are some people who are classified as disabled in the legal sense, yet do not have the same physical limitations that people like me have. I did find it a little unfair as these same people who have a non-apparent disability are able to take advantage of things like priority lanes in shopping establishments even though they're able to stand and walk. But again, from a legal perspective, they are allowed to take advantage of the benefit. That's fine.
A quick Google search reveals that there are only around 1.9 million registered PWDs in the Philippines. If you do the math, it simply says over 99 percent of people in the Philippines are not considered PWDs. And yet, in simple situations such as parking slots in malls, you see a lot of Filipinos who don't care and will just park at the PWD slot because it is the nearest to the entrance even if they are able-bodied people who can walk normally and are neither disabled, senior citizens, or pregnant women. The sad thing is, no one seems to enforce that these parking slots are supposed to be for certain people who need them more.
The kindness of strangers
Despite my ranting above about people who don't seem to care about PWDs, when I encounter people in places like malls and restaurants, I have yet to encounter anyone who has disrespected me because of my condition. When people see me approaching whether I am in a wheelchair, walker, or a cane, I notice that people do make the extra effort to accommodate me in simple things like opening doors for me, or other small acts like letting me ahead of the line, even if I am perfectly willing to wait my turn.
In my entire ordeal, I can say that guards in any situation and in any establishment are the best people on Earth. Whatever is needed, when they see me approaching, the guards will go out of their way to assist me whether it’s as simple as opening the door or helping me go up a few steps. I don't even have to say anything or ask for help. They just start helping, over and above the call of duty. And I am just grateful for that. The same holds true for other members of the workforce such as waiters, salesman, and even watch-your-car boys.
Moving on from 2023
I wouldn't have been able to get through this ordeal if it was not for the assistance of people around me. First off, there was my sister and my nieces and nephews who were there to help out every step of the way. My household staff rallied behind me and helped me through this difficult situation. And finally, there are my friends who were literally there for me in deed, and not just in words.
2023 was not easy for me. In fact, it was the worst year of my life. But I guess I survived it. Each day is literally a challenge for me. I still walk with a cane, but at least I don't have to be wheeled around in a wheelchair anymore. My close friends have also adjusted to my new normal. Little things like where I sit when we get to a restaurant have to be strategic, I say I have to think of being able to stand up after the meal.
Yes, 2023 was hell for me. But with perseverance, grit, and determination I look forward to 2024 with a positive outlook, as I chart my way through my new normal.
Jojo Ayson previously worked for Microsoft Philippines and JG Summit Holdings, Inc and was a former faculty member of the Ateneo de Manila Senior High School. He is a Star Wars and Star Trek Geek, traveler, and dog parent.
