Waking up after surgery was made all the more frightening realizing my right leg was missing. How did this happen? How would it affect the rest of my life? Do I have a life left? Can I go back to work? Will I walk again? These were some of my thoughts as I laid in the recovery room.

In the early spring of 2004, The Sun was shining brightly and everything was right with the world. My wife was in her home office working on email. Seeing a wound on my right ankle she asked, “What’s that on your foot”? It was a black scab that refused to go away. As time went on it got more painful prompting me to do the unthinkable. I went to the wound control section of the local hospital and found the only doctor in the area who didn’t know what he was doing. He began cutting away the dead skin which caused horrible pain. The next few months were filled with cutting and more and stronger painkillers. Hallucinations followed where I thought I was seeing zebras on the highway, cats in the kitchen and bugs everywhere.

Clearly, it was time to seek other medical attention. Arriving at the Cleveland Clinic was intimidating. It’s like a city in itself. But this was the place that would make all things right. No more pain and, finally, healing. Not! After an examination the doctor said, “Your leg or your life”. Having grown fond of living I opted for the surgery. On October 29th of 2004 my right leg was amputated below the knee.

The slow and painful recovery was complicated by my transfer to a local nursing home ostensibly for physical therapy. During my two week stay my bandages where changed only once which caused an infection in my stump. This made it impossible for my stump to heal. That meant I was further away from the prosthesis that would free me from the wheelchair. I began to experience difficulty breathing. When I told the “medical staff” they told me everything was ok. The worse it got the more I seemed to be bothering them. Then one day my legs began to secrete what seemed like buckets of fluid. That got their attention and I was rushed to the hospital with what turned out to be congestive heart failure. Go figure!

Thus began chapter two in what would become a six month hospital stay. The tests run on my heart revealed a mitral valve in need of repair and a clogged coronary artery. Remember the infection I had on my stump? Well, you guessed it, no surgery until the infection was gone.

On December 7, 2004 the operation was performed on my heart. The next day I was still losing blood, and worse, no one knew where it was going. Finally the surgeon, after reviewing a chest x-ray, concluded that the “leak” was caused by a broken suture and we were going back to surgery. That operation was performed on December the 9th. When it was over I was too weak to raise my head from the pillow.

December 24 I was taken to therapy. Merry Christmas. For the next few weeks my body was subjected to agonizing exercises which actually got me to where walking became easier. It was a happy day when I was able to walk with the benefit of my prosthesis. February 8, 2005 was a happier day. I was going home.

For the next few years I was in and out of the hospital. Due to my heart condition, I would retain water. During this period I had eye surgery, neck surgery and oral surgery. Being on blood thinners for my heart, each of these procedures were risky. There were bleeding issues with two out of three of those operations.

On January 2, 2007 my stump began to swell as my body began to retain fluid. This, of course, was attributed to congestive heart failure. After a month of in home treatment I was sent to the hospital where they found I was in end stage kidney failure. As of this writing I am still in a wheelchair. Also, I am on kidney dialysis three days a week three hours a day.

Believing I was ten feet tall and bulletproof, my life had been dedicated to getting what I wanted. Drive and ambition clouded my judgment and the important things in life such as family and relationships were relegated to the back seat.

Facing the possibility of spending the rest of my life as an invalid rather destroyed that bulletproof thing. I became very aware of the people around me who were experiencing suffering far worse than mine.
During this period relations with other people became very important and fences were mended. I found that I don’t have to be right all the time and how peace comes over me when I say “I’m sorry, please forgive me”.
I thank God for what He has taken away and am resolved to make the most of what I have left.

Well, I hope you’ll come back and visit our blog and web site. Until then, that’s the view from the chair.


David H, Baker is married and has five grown children. The former Canton City Treasurer and President of Aradine Inc. is disabled and spends most of his time on the computer.
Web Site: http://www.netrep1.com/
Contact Us