Who needs two legs, anyway?

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Who needs two legs, anyway?

Post: # 24180Unread post admin
28 Jan 2018, 21:35

I remember the first time I met John. I could tell right away he was something special. We connected immediately, and soon fell madly in love with each other. We had so many interests in common, and before long we had a special bond between us. As our relationship blossomed, we learned intimately how each other felt, and how to relate to each other with an uncommon closeness. I also knew John was on the adventurous side, particularly when it came to s*ex. He knew how to please me like no other man, even though I had been to bed with only two others before I met him. He made me feel so alive, so, well you know. He could please me so completely, I would often pass out in ecstasy. I loved the way his hands, his tongue, and his manhood felt on my body and inside me. He truly knew me, in the most intimate and passionate of terms. Our relationship grew over the next several months, and he proposed to me. I always thought I should wait until I was older to be married, but I was and am still sure I found the man for me.
We were married in the summer. I was 20 and John was 27. Our honeymoon was spectacular. We went to the Caribbean, and spent three weeks sightseeing, snorkeling, trying out the local cuisine. Not to mention the atmosphere! It was truly a dream world. The sights and the sounds. The people and the places. I'll never forget it.
We soon bought our house and began living our lives as fully as any couple could hope, and after a little over a year, IT happened! The event that would unalterably change my life.

Image

I was gardening one day and felt a shooting pain in my left thigh. I thought I pulled a muscle, but it felt very wrong. I reached down and grabbed my leg where it hurt, and could feel a knot. I thought I would just take it easy for the next couple of days. I asked John to massage my leg, hoping to get some relief. As he was rubbing my thigh, he had a concerned look on his face. He said "Margi, I think we need to get you to a doctor."
I wasn't sure what he meant, but I rubbed my thigh where he was concerned, and the knot felt more like a hard lump, a few inches below my hip. I immediately made the appointment.
At the doctor's office, they took numerous X-rays. After what felt like an eternity, Dr. Levinson called us into his office. He put the X-rays on the light box, and slowly turned toward us. He was quite concerned. He said "Look at this region here. There is a growth on your left femur. It looks like you have an osteosarcoma. That's bone cancer. We'll need to do a biopsy to know for sure. If it's positive for cancer, the only way to save your life is to amputate your leg, probably at the hip. We can hope it's something benign, but I honestly don't think so. We'll do what we can to make sure you have an outcome that will save your life, and then we'll try to save your leg. I think it would be wise to do the biopsy right away, and if it's positive, I'm going to admit you for surgery in the morning. Taking care of this as soon as possible is the best way to ensure a your chances for survival. I’m truly sorry, and I’m sensitive to your situation. Can I answer any questions you might have?"
I was devastated. Cancer? Survival? Amputation? My life as a cripple? I couldn't believe my ears. I was in shock and disbelief. John held me and consoled me.
“Oh my God. Are you sure? What are my chances for survival? Am I going to die, Doctor?”, I asked, totally scared to death.
Dr. Levinson looked at me very intensely. I could tell, just from the expression in his eyes, he was concerned more about the aftermath than the actual surgery and recovery.
“Probably not. And, please, call me Roger. I’m here as more than you’re surgeon. I’ll do everything I can to help you. Anyway, the tumor appears to be fully contained, and I think we caught it fairly early. You’ll probably have to have a brief round of chemotherapy afterwards, to catch any cells that we might miss. That part won’t be too bad. Only a little nausea, and you won’t lose your hair. We’ll know more after the biopsy, but at this point your chances for survival appear excellent.” His words were comforting, but I was still scared to death about losing my leg, too. Not just for the crippling outcome it would have, but also if John would still want me as his one legged wife. This loomed larger than anything else.


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Re: Who needs two legs, anyway?

Post: # 24181Unread post admin
28 Jan 2018, 21:39

John told me that he would always be here for me, no matter what the outcome. He insisted that I have the biopsy done straight away, and if it resulted in amputation, he would still love me and want me for his wife.
“Not to worry about us, my dear. I just want you to get through this. We’ll be OK.” His words comforted me some.
I lay there sobbing as the doctor anesthetized the area and inserted the sampling needle. He tapped on the end and withdrew the tissue sample. He went off to the lab, telling us he should know something in about an hour.
I lay there for that terrible hour, waiting for the news. John held me. I asked him again if he could ever love his soon to be crippled wife. He told me not to worry.
"Margi, how would I ever find anyone as wonderful as you? Whether you have two legs, one leg, or no legs, you're my wife and soulmate, and I don't want to hear any talk about us splitting up. We’re in this together, through thick or thin, OK?"
His words reassured me, and I fell into his wonderful arms as he held me, but I was still scared to death about what was going to happen to me. But I knew, deep down inside, through my fear, I was convinced I didn't have to worry about John leaving me. But I began to feel what he must be going through, too, even though he kept his worries about himself as understated as he could.
The doctor came back into the room and slowly sat down. The look on his face already told me what he was going to say.
"Margi, I'm afraid the results are positive. I’m sorry. The only way to save you is to amputate your leg at the hip. I'm going to schedule surgery for 8 am tomorrow morning. I have my colleague who is the best oncologist in the state to help me tomorrow, and I have another colleague who is excellent in orthopedic and reconstructive surgery. We'll do the best job possible. It is, however, a very slow growing form of cancer, that appears to be fully contained. This is the good news. It is highly unlikely that it has metastasized and spread beyond the tumor." His words cut to my soul, but I felt a small degree of reassurance.
I was checked into my room. Soon the doctor came up and explained in great detail what was going to happen tomorrow. His style engulfed me in the procedure to the point that I had momentarily forgotten that it was to happen to me. He also explained what I could expect afterwards. The phantom pains and sensations, the need for crutches or a prosthetic limb, and the general recovery process. He also told me of a counselor he knew who specialized in the rehabilitation of amputees, and he would send her over in a couple of days. As scared as I was, I knew it had to be done, and I knew I was in good hands.
John spent the night with me and we watched a movie and talked about all the things he wanted to still do with me. He tried to distract me from what was coming, but I couldn't stand it any longer.
I asked him hesitantly, "John, will you want to sleep with me? I mean after I lose my leg. How could you still want me?"
There was a long pause. I could tell he was picturing it in his mind with that vivid imagination of his. Even through the stress I knew he was feeling, a smile came to his face.
"Well, look at it this way. You are sometimes uncomfortable with having your legs spread apart when I get inside you. I don't think you'll have that problem anymore." The coy expression on his face was just what I needed. I even had to let out a slight chuckle, even in the midst of these depressing circumstances.
“Thank you," I eked out, "I need you to help me through this. Just be there, and I promise I'll make up for my handicap."
"I promise to be here for you. As far as making up for anything, just come out of this thing alive and healthy. That would make me happier than any man in the world." He said it so directly, I knew we were going to be all right, knowing John as I do. After all, he is my soulmate. I just need to get through this.
I asked John to go with me for one last walk. He held my hand, and I knew this was going to be the last thing I'll ever do on two legs. I got a sleeping pill from the nurse, so I could rest through the night.
I was taken to surgery the next morning. I kept looking into John's eyes as they put me under. Soon it would be over, and my leg would be gone.
I slowly awoke to see John's face. He was holding my hand, and told me everything went well. I could still feel my leg, though. John and the recovery room nurse helped me sit up a little bit. I looked down, and saw my hip swaddled in heavy bandages. I looked down further and saw the sheets lay flat where my left leg used to be. There was no doubt my entire left leg was history.
"The cancer was completely self contained." John quietly explained. "You should make a full recovery. The doctors don't even think you'll need chemotherapy, but we'll have to wait and see. They had to take your leg at the hip. You have no stump, just a smooth, round hip when your recovery is complete." I appreciated his honesty. I think this made my situation much easier to accept than all the therapy in the world. "I can't wait to have you home again.", he cried.
Over the next two days I was constantly on pain killers. On the second day the drain was removed, and the doctor very carefully closed the wound where the tube came out. On the third day the pain began to subside a little. I could still feel my now absent leg. The physical therapist came in and massaged my remaining leg and back. This helped considerably. John asked him how to do the massages. They showed him, and his touch was absolutely exquisite. Whenever he rubbed my muscles, I would almost forget about my pain.
Over the next several days, my condition improved. Soon they came to change my bandages, and for the first time I saw my legless hip. It was swollen, black and blue. Along the incision there was a series of small bandages.
"We had a plastic surgeon on call that morning, so we asked him to help us close. I hope you don't mind if your scar will be essentially invisible when you're fully healed. He’s very close to finishing his residency, and wanted the practice. I didn't want to burden you with such a detail, given what you were about to go through. We just like to take care of everything.", the doctor said in a very reassuring tone. I felt as the staff really cared, since this is the level of attention they give everything.
I spent the next three weeks in physical therapy. During this time I was fitted with a temporary artificial leg. I had tremendous problems making it work, not to mention my hip still hurt like hell. Finally I insisted that I be allowed to use crutches until I was a little further along. After all, it was going to be a couple of months before I would feel like doing anything so rigorous that an artificial leg would be needed. John supported me on this, and insisted that I call all the shots on my recovery.
Also during that period, I went through some counseling. There was a wonderful woman psychologist who specialized in the rehabilitation of people who experienced traumatically obtained disabilities. I knew she had an edge over most others in this field. You see, she was an amputee as well. Dr. Joanna Stevens was missing her right arm at the shoulder, due to a car accident several years ago.
I was told she was an amputee before I actually met her, and yet I was still surprised when she came into my room. She looked fabulous. Her hair and makeup were perfect, and her attire was perfectly coordinated, professional, and yet she carried an incredible sense of style. She wore no prothesis, and her dress had been tailored to fit perfectly over her limbless shoulder. This was totally opposite to any thoughts I had about how an amputee should look.
“How are you feeling today, Margi?”, she asked.
“In pain, but this will pass, I hope. I’m more bothered by what’s going to happen to me, being a helpless cripple. What will people say about me? How will my husband ever find me attractive? How...” She stopped me right there.
“Just a second. Before you get down on yourself, let me ask you to put aside your feelings for a moment and make a few rational observations. I know this is hard, but I would really like to show you another possible perspective. John mentioned that one of your strong points is keeping your head in moments of adversity, and I can see this strength in you.” She guided me along through this conversation, and I just felt like I could trust her.
“All right, I’m listening, but it’s still hard.”, I cried.
“It’s OK, it’s supposed to be hard. This is a good sign. What I wanted to ask you is, what do you think of who you see before you? It’s not a narcissistic question, I just want you to make an observation.”, she said almost clinically.
“You’re very attractive. You seem to carry yourself with a great deal of confidence. The obvious question is, why, and how? You must know everyone notices your missing arm.”, I replied.


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Re: Who needs two legs, anyway?

Post: # 24182Unread post admin
28 Jan 2018, 21:40

“I made a discovery soon after I lost my arm. Through the literature I found that there are certain men who find women like us attractive. They’re really not deviants, it’s just one of those wonderful little surprises life has offered us. Also, you may find that missing a limb isn’t all bad, either. It works differently for everyone, but I’ve found a certain pleasure in doing things differently than my fellow sisters with two hands. It was quite confusing at first, but as I went about living my life, I found my husband, David, became rather enamored of my state of being. Soon after that, I had come to embrace these special little things that only an amputee can enjoy. This will take some time for you to come to grips with, and please take your time and ask me any questions you may have. Trust me, it will eventually be all right. If you would like, I can give you a list of references you can pick up at the local library which goes over research of this phenomena, as well as some of the people involved in this research. I’m so glad I found out about this, because it’s made my life much better, and helped my husband get through some of the guilt he was feeling. I can’t tell you how relieved he was to find out there was nothing wrong with him for liking me this way.” She said all of this so calmly, I couldn’t help but believe her, even though I didn’t understand it, yet.
“How did your husband respond to you? Was he married to you before the amputation?”, I asked.
“David and I were already married. After I came home from the hospital, he couldn’t do enough for me. He made adaptations to the house, to make everyday life easier to deal with. Soon David took great interest in how I did things with only one hand. Then one day, as I was struggling to get out of my dress, he asked me to look at him laying on the bed. As I turned around to ask him for some help, I saw he was very eager and waiting on me “hand and foot”, shall we say. He told me he liked the way I looked and did things with only one arm. He was a little nervous about how I felt about this. Needless to say I was delighted. I finished getting out of my dress, and, well, the rest of the evening was absolutely delightful. He was so relieved that he didn’t have to worry about how I would respond to his attraction. I was taken totally by surprise by his excitement in my appearance. It’s been that way ever since. That’s when I opted not to wear a prothesis, and with no stump to move it, it would have been difficult to use, anyway. I wanted to look as s*exy as I felt. I had made a decision not to feel ashamed about the way I looked anymore. In fact I had made a decision to make the most of my situation. And that’s why I am the way I am now, and why I decided to change my practice to helping people like you. I talked to John briefly, and I think you’ll find him equally receptive. Does this help you?”, she said.
“Yes. And thank you. It’ll be hard at first, but I think you’re making some sense. Can we carry this on for a few months?”, I asked.
“Absolutely. I think you should invite John along for a few sessions as well. I think it’s all going to work out in the end. But I think that’s enough for now. You been really good about keeping an open mind about all this. Just remember that you’ll need to bring all this inside of you for you to understand. I’m just asking that you not just take my word for it. I’ll see you in a week.” I watched as she left the room, setting her briefcase on the floor so she could turn the doorknob.
Roger came in every day to check in on me. He seemed pleased that everything was going OK. He also told me he was the one who knew Joanna and referred her to me.
“Tell me, how did you ever find someone like Joanna?”, I asked the good Dr. Roger.
“I had a number of patient over the years who have found themselves in situations similar to yours. Joanna was one of them. Fortunately, she was already a counselor, and, after a number of conversations, I was able to convince her that being an amputee and a counselor was a tremendously powerful combination to someone who has just suffered such a trauma. So, she set up a practice of doing just that. She has become one of the leading experts in this rather esoteric field. She’s quite good, wouldn’t you say?” His tone was one of having been at this place in a patients recovery process many times.


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Re: Who needs two legs, anyway?

Post: # 24183Unread post admin
28 Jan 2018, 21:41

“Yes, she is. I’m really lucky to have her on my side. Thank you, Roger.” This was the first time I felt comfortable calling him by his first name.
The swelling and the bruising subsided slowly and the final shape of my hip was more apparent. It was indeed very smooth and well rounded. The scar was a remarkably thin red line that would fade completely over time. It was still tender, but most of the agonizing pain was gone. The daily massaging, which was more like caressing from John, made the phantom pain and sensations much less apparent. I am so thankful to have such a wonderful husband.
At the end of the three weeks I was crutching slowly around the hospital. I had become reasonably proficient at their use. It took me quite some getting used to my lighter left side and my higher center of gravity. I didn't need to look down to remind myself of what had happened to me.
The oncologist tested me again and found everything to be clear. I would be seeing him every month for the next eighteen months, and then once every six months for the next five years. Roger said everything was healing nicely, and that I was lucky that I didn't need chemotherapy, partly for my continued survival, but mostly because it interferes with the healing process. It would have taken months to get to this point otherwise. He gave everything his blessing and said it was OK for me to go home, if I thought I was ready.
Well, I wanted to sleep in my own bed so badly, I wasn't about to turn this down. As per hospital policy, they wheeled me down to the car, and John helped me in. I was finally going home.
We pulled into the garage, and John slowly and carefully helped me out of the car. He asked me to wait on the edge of the seat for a moment, and he produced a set of beautiful dark rosewood crutches from the corner of the garage.
"There's no reason why we can't maintain a sense of style, is there?", he said humorously.
"Well, I think you're right." I came right back at him, as we both chuckled. His sense of humor was a wonderful source of comfort.
I slowly got up out of the car and hitched toward the door going into the house. These crutches were much more comfortable and easier to use than the hospital issue variety. I applauded John on his thoughtfulness.
"I never went up stairs before.", I said as I was figuring out how to solve my problem.
"Not to worry my dear, let me give you a hand." He was really enjoying the chance to help me.
He put his arm around me, and helped me into the house. He had levers installed on all the doors in place of the doorknobs. An elevator had been installed from the basement up to the attic, with stops at both living floors along the way. There were elegant ivory and porcelain grab handles on the wall next to the toilet and the shower. These were just some of the touches John added to the house to accommodate me.
"Oh my love, this is so wonderful. I love the style. All these additions look nothing like the institutional stuff I thought it would look like." I admired his effort to keep everything looking just right.
"Well, you're going to be this way for a very long time, so why not start off on the right foot?", he said, trying not to chuckle at his own pun.
"You're quite the funny one, aren't you?" I said, as I jabbed him with my crutch.
"I know this is hard for you, but we must have our light moments.", he said in an almost apologetic tone.
"It's all right. I thought it was cute. I know you love me, and I love you not just for what you've done here, but for being my loving husband through all this." I started to cry, and he held me ever so tenderly.
"Tell you what, why don't you sit here at the counter while I make us dinner? Here's your glass of your favorite wine." He handed me my glass and we chatted as he prepared what seemed like the most exquisite meal I have ever had.
We slowly finished this wonderful feast and John escorted me into the den, where he had a fire going. He had a thick, soft comforter on the floor and helped me lay down on my right side. We continued to sip our drinks as we cuddled in front of the fire.
"Oh John, this is so wonderful. I never imagined I would ever enjoy myself like this ever again. Thank you for a fantastic evening. I think I’m ready to go to sleep now." I was ready to get up, wanting to end the evening on a high note.
"What's the hurry?", John asked. "The evening is still young."
"I do want you, John, but I'm afraid."


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Re: Who needs two legs, anyway?

Post: # 24184Unread post admin
28 Jan 2018, 21:41

"I know, my love. Don't be." His tone was calming.
John turned around to face me. He took my hand and placed it on his member. He started to caress my body. When he gently ran his hand over the left side of my pelvis, I felt his manhood come to life.
"I don't understand. You're turned on. By me?" I said in disbelief.
"Yes. Remember, you're the most exciting woman I've known. That definitely hasn't changed." he said, cutting himself short.
"You seem to have something more to say about this. Please tell me what it is? You know how thankful I am to have you. Please tell me?" This was strange. The shoe seemed to be on the other foot, so to speak.
"Well, one of the rehab counselors came up to me and asked me if I wouldn't mind spending a few minutes with her talking about you, and your new way of being." His words were strained, as if he was expecting MY disapproval. "She talked about how some men may find amputee women very attractive. When she said that, I could feel myself getting hard. She said it's perfectly all right, but it's not a well known phenomenon. I told her we were rather adventurous in our lovemaking, and she smiled. She told me I would have no problem. She also said that it was her experience that if the woman accepted this attraction, then making love would reinforce her desirability, and everything would work out. Please don't hate me for this. If I could, I would restore your leg in a second, but I do like you this way." He looked so cute with that sheepish expression on his face.
"Don't worry, darling. I think everything is going to be wonderful. Just be gentle with me until I'm fully healed. You see, I had the same talk with the same counselor, who was also an amputee. I knew you talked to her, but I couldn’t bring myself to approach the subject with you, at least not until we got home. But I’m glad you did."
The bulge in his pants was tremendous. I undid his trousers, and he sprung up, nearly ripping the clothes from his body. He eagerly undressed me, and put my toes in his mouth.
He slowly worked his way up my leg, as I pumped his throbbing cock with my hand. He got to my crotch, and switched over and started licking and sucking my thin scar. It drove me crazy with the sensations. I never thought my amputation would be an erogenous zone. He kissed my breasts and suckled my neck. I was so hot for him. He then buried his face deep into my one sided crotch, and I came harder than I had ever come before.
Now I wanted him inside me. I managed to position myself over him, supporting myself on my one knee and one hand. With my free hand I guided him inside me. I sat up and slowly lowered myself down onto his seriously rigid member. I loved feeling him inside after so long. As I got him all the way in, I was delighted because I didn't need to spread my legs to get him in all the way. I rode up and down on him, being careful not to land hard on my legless hip, until he filled me with his hot, lusty man milk as I came again.
I slowly leaned over to lay at his side, and in less than five minutes, he was rock hard again. He bent me over, and pushed his way into me. This was much better then when I had two legs. He pumped me, and I came, wave after wave, as he gently stroked my legless buttock. Soon he came again, and he gently laid at my side, holding me gently in his arms.
"So, is there any doubt now about how I feel about you?", he said fondly.
All I could do is moan and smile at him. Even though there was a mild throbbing in my hip, this is still the best experience I'd had to date.
"I would say that you approve of the way I am. I must say, strange as it may sound, lovemaking is much better with only one leg. You get inside of me deeper than you ever did before, and I had no complaints then. I think it's going to be fun getting used to my new form." I tried not to sound too pleased with myself.
Soon we were making love again, like a couple of hormone crazed teenagers, but with the experience only two married people can share.
The next morning we woke up and stared into each other's eyes, thinking about the night before.
"Darling, you know the phantom sensations are much less severe now. I wonder why that is?" I asked curiously, even though I knew the answer.
"She talked about that, too. It seems the more attracted each of us are to each other, and can connect it to your one leggedness, then the phantom pains and sensations will become noticeably reduced each time we make love. It's the only thing they've found so far that helps.", he said.
The days grew into weeks as we enjoyed each new encounter with each other. As our lovemaking continued to excite us with my 'new look', John made sure I had everything I needed to help me get along. He made sure my clothes were perfect, and insisted that I go to the salon at least twice a month. He got me a new pair of Canadian crutches, and had them painted in a deep shade of metallic azure. Everything was to be elegant and stylish. He wasn't about to have his wife looking like she can't put on a show.


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Re: Who needs two legs, anyway?

Post: # 24185Unread post admin
28 Jan 2018, 21:42

Over the next few months, I slowly healed. My hip shrank to a very petite and well rounded shape. The scar was indeed invisible. During that time I was delighted at John's attentiveness to my needs. I felt so wanted. I felt so s*exy this way that I altered a substantial amount of my wardrobe to my one legged state. John really appreciates me when I dress up for him.
I also came to appreciate some of the other things about being this kind of amputee. At night, when we sleep, we lay on our right sides. John cuddles me from behind, and throws his left leg over my right one, and pulls it up to my limbless hip. It’s so close and intimate. We could never do this when I had two legs. I can also lay by his side, and put my leg over him, and not have to figure out where to place my thankfully missing leg. It all feels so right.
One thing that came up was fitting me for a prosthesis. After many discussions with numerous individuals in the rehab field, I figured that it was going to be too difficult to wear one, having no stump to move it. I felt I ambulated much more easily with my crutches. Besides, it gave John a chance to help me carry and do things I couldn't do because my hands were full.
One of the other things I learned to do, and quite skillfully mastered, was hopping. Around the house, I rarely used my crutches, and hopping meant my hands were free to carry things. I had the cadence down such that there was very little noise when I moved. Just a very soft and muted thud as I hopped around the house, even on the hardwood floors. And John Loves the way I move this way.
Over the next couple of years, our love play continued, and I felt more outgoing sexually as well as socially. I truly came to enjoy my one legged state, both in the bedroom and in public. My clothes were snug and revealing of my trim figure, as well as my legless hip. I took in a number of my skirts so much that they would be too tight for a woman with two legs, but had no encumbrance on me at all. My wardrobe became filled with leather skirts, slacks, and jackets, spandex jump suits, and sheer fabrics. All my slacks have been snugly tailored around my limbless left hip. And, I have been growing my rich, shiny dark red hair, and at this point, it’s down to my waist. I never thought much about the sexual power of long, beautiful hair, but now I wanted every edge I could get. I was feeling so much sexier anyway, that the feel of my hair on my skin is absolutely delightful. I feel so s*exy and alive, even more so when I received the occasional glare from stranger who thought cripples had to be asexual.
This is my favorite part about being an amputee. John truly appreciates me for being this way, and my missing leg has sparked his libidinous desires incredibly. I also found it had a reciprocal effect. After I was healed, I had to have him every chance I had. Not only did I enjoy all the things we did to each other, but the therapeutic part made the phantom pains and sensation soon a long lost memory. I can't even remember what it feels like to have two legs. It was crystal clear what Dr. Joanna Stevens was talking about.
Being seen together in public or with our friends soon became the best part. I am the exhibitionist, and he loves showing me off. Our friends began asking questions about what it was like for me. I often tell them it was the best thing to ever happen to us. Some would laugh, and some would just look askance. But a few of our female friends seemed to take a genuine interest in my situation. I told them I wouldn't wish it on anyone, but I have no regrets being an amputee. My husband really likes me this way, and I now prefer being one legged. Their reaction is always hysterical.
I went back to my job at the ad agency. My career was taking off again, and everything between John and I was going quite well. And I really loved being taken care of by John. I never again wanted my leg back, and wished I had lost it sooner. And, I had no idea of the events that were soon to follow.


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Re: Who needs two legs, anyway?

Post: # 24186Unread post admin
28 Jan 2018, 21:43

Who needs legs, Part 2

Our lives had become much more fulfilling over the last three years since I lost my right leg. Our love had grown to new heights that we never dreamed of. And our passion for my unique physique was boundless.
At this point, John decided to take me back to the Caribbean where we spent our honeymoon. The atmosphere was thick with romance. And I loved showing myself off there in ways I never thought of when I was there last with two legs. In fact, one of the things I did was leave my crutches in the closet, and hopped everywhere. It was an exhilarating experience. I loved the look on everyone’s face as I hopped from place to place. John would offer to put his arm around me to help me, and I really enjoyed that, but loved to break away and hop on my own. It was wonderful, and our vacation was soon drawing to a close.
Then, as I was hopping out of a restaurant, a felt a sharp pain in my hip. I was in agony! John picked me up and carried me to the car. We rushed to the hospital. I panicked in the car as we drove there, fearing that the cancer had returned in my other hip. If it did, who knows where else they would find it? John held my hand, and calmed me down.
“Don't even think about that.”, he said, “It’s probably a sprain or an inflamed joint. Don’t worry.”
We pulled into the emergency room, and the staff took all my information. They wired my hospital back home for my records, while they were examining me.
They took X-rays and an MRI of my hip, and the doctor called us into his office. “Well, it looks like you ruptured the cartilage in your hip joint, and you have a fracture in the head of your femur.”, the doctor showed us. “I assume you like to hop around a lot?”
“Well, yes, I guess I do. Is that what’s damaged the joint?” I asked.
“It looks like it. You see, all that hopping puts an inordinate stress on your hip, as it was designed for walking, and having the load shared by another leg. After a while, the cartilage just gave out, and the bone has become fatigued.” He said.
“Can it be fixed?” I was getting a little worried at this point, but at the same time I was relieved that it wasn’t cancer again.
“Of course. We can repair the cartilage by arthroscopic surgery, but you are going to need a hip joint replacement to make it right. Anyway, your hopping days are over. Your hip just can’t stand it, and an artificial joint will probably loosen if you do that too much.”, the good doctor told us.
“Honey, I think it would be best if we went back home and had the surgery. We know the doctors there, and they are quite good.” John reassured me.
“You’re right. Darn it! I was really enjoying myself.” I was disgusted. But we only had two days left, so I got most of the trip in.
We returned home, and we had an orthopedic surgeon perform the exam. Unfortunately, Roger, the doctor who amputated my left leg so nice and neatly was away on a month’s vacation with his wife, so we had to settle for his stand in. He agreed with the Caribbean doctor’s diagnosis, and also didn’t think an arthroscopic repair would hold up very well. He insisted on a hip replacement.
We scheduled the surgery for the next morning, given that I was both in pain, and bound to a wheelchair. I had to stay in a wheelchair, as any weight on my leg was unbearable. I really missed being able to walk around, and I couldn’t wait to be back on my foot again.


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Re: Who needs two legs, anyway?

Post: # 24187Unread post admin
28 Jan 2018, 21:43

They admitted me that night, and the surgery was in the morning.
All I remember after the operation was the agonizing pain I was in. I knew this was a major operation, and it was supposed to hurt, but I still needed some serious pain killers.
The pain subsided after a few days, and I could sit up. Soon I was allowed to get around the hospital by wheelchair. The physical therapist helped me tremendously. Soon I was on crutches again.
I went home after two weeks, and spent the next month convalescing. I was still in some pain, but things were improving.
I enjoyed being on my crutches again. Slowly I recovered, but there was still a dull pain in my hip.
Then, in the middle of the night, I woke up drenched in a sweat. John felt me, and a look of shock spread across his face.
“Darling, you’re burning up. We need to get you to the emergency room right now.” I had never seen John so worried. He knew, as well as I, that something was seriously wrong with me.
He bundled me up and drove me to the hospital right away. He called the emergency room and told them what was happening, and to get our doctor there right away.
We arrived, and they did a whole battery of tests, and started me on IV antibiotics. Apparently I had a massive infection in my hip, where they replaced the joint. The surgeon who did the hip replacement was out of the country, and we found Dr. Roger Levinson, the doctor who performed my amputation.
“Margi, you have a very serious infection in your hip. This occasionally happens because bone structures don’t fight off bacteria very well. It probably got in there during the surgery, and with all the damage that was in there, something must have become trapped in the tissues. We’re going to open up the incision and drain it.” Roger told us with a strong note of concern in his voice.
They gave me a local anesthetic, and drained the pus from my hip. The volume was tremendous. They then packed it with antibiotics and watched my vital signs for the next several hours. Then the Roger and a colleague of his came in.
“Margi, this infection is very advanced, and has turned gangrenous. Your life is in grave danger. If we don’t do something soon, the infection is going to spread to your bloodstream, and we won’t be able to save you. I’m truly sorry to say this, and we both went over everything, but the only way to remove this infection and save your life is to amputate your leg at the hip. That’s the only way we can get rid of the gangrenous tissue and get you out of danger.”
The pain was so severe, that I told them to get rid of it now. I was so delirious from the fever, all I wanted to do was get some relief. I had no idea what was really happening. I faded from consciousness.
I woke up, from what John told me, four days later. He said the infection is under control, and I was out of the woods. He took my hand and squeezed it gently.
“Margi, I love you very, very much. I want you to listen to me very carefully. The doctors saved your life.” Through the fog, I could tell he was trying to brace me. “The only way to save you was to take off your leg. It’s been amputated at the hip, just like your other one. I’m here to help you any way I can. I’ll always be here for you.”


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Re: Who needs two legs, anyway?

Post: # 24188Unread post admin
28 Jan 2018, 21:44

I looked down and saw the familiar bandages now on my right hip. I looked further and saw nothing under the sheets.
“My God! I have no legs. I absolutely have no legs.” I started to cry. I wept for what seemed an eternity.
John held my hand so tenderly, that I couldn’t hold back the tears. I cried for days afterwards. I was even considering suicide, but I knew John loved me tremendously. I loved him too much to put him through the suicide of the one person he loved so dearly. I felt so trapped...
I spent the next several days just lying there, with IV’s stuck in me, and nurses tending to me around the clock. I was getting better physically, but inside I was devastated. I was now so severely disabled, that I knew that this was going to be more than the ‘mere inconvenience’ of missing only one leg. John had already decided to get me some help.
John called the counselor who helped me so much after I lost my first leg. I was looking forward to seeing Joanna Stevens again very much. Just knowing I was going to see her again was just the lift my spirits needed. I hadn’t thought about her in quite some time, and I remembered how she put everything in such a wonderful perspective. After all, she was the one who helped me discover the more pleasant side of being an amputee. Since she was one herself, missing her right arm at the shoulder, it was compelling evidence that she was the expert in this area.
Her secretary set the appointment for the following Wednesday.
John and I were together in my room when we heard a dull thud at the door. John opened it, and Joanna walked in.
Both of our eyes opened wide with shock when she walked into view.
“I’m glad to see you again. It’s been, what, a year and a half?”, she said, very matter of fact, still making no mind of our amazement and shock.
“Oh, I gather you didn’t hear about me. I didn’t intend to startle you. I often forget about the way I am now. As you see, I’ve had some medical issues which necessitated the removal of my other arm as well. Please, it’s actually quite all right. I’ve come to accept and actually enjoy my life as an armless woman. And David, my husband, as you no doubt remember, has been truly delightful through all this. It’s really quite all right. But enough about me.”, she said, trying to put our minds at ease at the sight of her, without so much as even a little stump extending past her smooth, rounded shoulders.
Indeed, she was quite a sight, and as beautiful as ever. And, for the first time since my surgery, I actually had a couple of minutes where I wasn’t thinking about my own situation.
“I see you’ve had some changes, too. It’s OK, amputation is a very traumatic and difficult event in anyone’s life. Tell me, what are you feeling now?”, she said very plainly. We still couldn’t help but stare.
She sat in front of us, and kicked off her shoes. She used her toes to open her briefcase, which she carried on a strap over her shoulder. She pulled out a pad and a pen, and began writing with her feet.
“I’m so helpless now. This is far more difficult to live with than missing just one leg. I’ll never walk again. I’ll never do any of the things I could do even when I had only one leg.” My words were strained, mostly from saying out loud that I was so helpless. But I was also distracted by my now armless counselor.
“OK, I can see we can’t go any farther until I satisfy your curiosity. I’ll gladly fill you in, if you want me to.” Her words, and our expression meant told her we had to know, and she was dying to tell us.
“If you don’t mind. Your entrance was a bit of a surprise.” John said. His penchant for understatement certainly didn’t fail him.
“David, my husband, and I were out hiking in the grand Canyon a little over a year ago. I was hiking up a trail when I slipped and fell over the edge. I slid for about thirty feet, trying to grab anything to stop my slide. When I found a bush, I grabbed it. The only problem was that during my fall, I broke my arm in three places, and furthermore, I really tore up my shoulder joint when I grabbed that bush. On top of all that, the bone had broken the skin, and all sorts of debris contaminated the wound. It took David six hours to get me out of there and to a hospital. They patched me up as best as they could, and our favorite doctor Roger did the final repairs. Well, one thing led to another, and a month later, I had to have my arm amputated at the shoulder. That slide was the last time I was able to use it, since it was in a cast the whole time. They say, ‘Physician, heal thyself’, but it was David who really helped me make this a positive experience.” Her tone was very sure, and I still felt a special bond with this very special lady.
“That’s extraordinary. I have to admit, seeing you like this does fascinate me, particularly since you are still practicing as a counselor, and still want to live life after such a trauma.” John said, in a very complimentary tone.
“I can see you both are a bit distracted, and that’s probably a good thing at this point. Anyway, please, tell me what happened.” Her words were those of a long lost friend who had reappeared to help us in our hour of need. And given what she’d been through, it was a perfect opportunity to learn from her, as well as each other.
We filled her in on the hopping and the injury that it led to, and the lengthy path I took before they finally had to take my leg. I wrapped it up telling her about my wish to commit suicide, and how I couldn’t do that to John. I was feeling very trapped, caught between my pain and the shock of becoming totally legless, and very helpless, and feeling no escape from it all because of my love for John.
All the while, Joanna was writing notes with her pen clenched between her toes.
We talked for two hours, as we felt that we were catching up on each other, as much as she was helping us with my depression. She also helped me realize as soon as I get through the recovery part of this, the thrill of discovery lies ahead. It was hard to think of myself in such sensuous terms, but looking at this remarkable, yet armless woman in front of me, I knew, deep down inside, that it was going to work out just fine.
“Well, Margi, I can tell you this, John will be very attentive to you from now on. Right, John?”
John eked out an answer. “Margi, I do love you. Please, I want to be there for you. It’s not pity, or me feeling obligated because you’re so handicapped. It’s because of the person inside. And, (this was the part he was having trouble with.) if you’re OK with me saying so, your body intrigues me even more. Just like the wonderful woman inside. Is that OK with you?”


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Re: Who needs two legs, anyway?

Post: # 24189Unread post admin
28 Jan 2018, 21:45

I looked at him and wept. And, for the first time, not for my misery, but because of how his words touched me. I knew it would all be wonderful. The hard part for me was knowing it was going to take some time to adjust to and accept my legless state. Only then, could we start our lives again.
We watched as she put her pad and pen back into her briefcase, using only her feet and toes. This was truly a feat to behold.
As she got up to leave, she wished us well, and bent over me to kiss me on the cheek. I instinctively reached up and embraced her. John, too, hugged her and thanked her for her help.
“Then I’ll see you in a week, Margi?”, she asked, to confirm our appointment.
“I’ll be here!” I exclaimed. I did so enjoy seeing her again. And I couldn’t stop thinking about seeing her with both arms completely missing.
“Did you like what you saw, John?” I asked teasingly.
“I see you’re feeling a little better.” he commented, noting that I was in vastly better spirits. “Yes, I was fascinated by her appearance, but I’d rather have your arms around me. Besides, after being with you, I could never do anything with another woman. You know that.”
“Good answer. Yes, I know you are the most faithful husband a wife could ever have, and I love you for that.” I reached out my arms as I was laying in my bed. John came over and embraced me with one of the warmest, sexiest hugs he’s ever given me. I could feel the emotion well up in him. Now this was a switch. Me comforting him. It was wonderful.
I spent the next few weeks in the hospital recuperating. The doctor treated my wound with great care, and, as with my first amputation, the plastic surgeons did a splendid job. Only the faintest of scars remained when I was discharged, soon to fade completely.
During this time, as well as receiving physical therapy, Joanna came by once a week for our counseling sessions. Sometimes John would be there, but most of the time it would be just the two of us. After all, I could tell John was going to be fine, and I was the one who had to come to peace with being a completely legless half woman.
The recovery was longer than last time, because the infection had taken such a toll on my body’s ability to recover. During this time John would come in and rub my back as before. This really helped me get through some of the pain. Then he started rubbing my left buttock, and it felt wonderful. I couldn’t wait for the right one to heal enough for him to massage that one too.
Soon he was pushing me around the hospital in a wheelchair. I was so happy to be out of that room. We went to the solarium, and I enjoyed feeling the sun on my face. My soul felt the energy rush in, like a plant reaching for the sunlit window.
John asked the nurse if he could take me outside. She argued a little with him, but it was such a warm spring day outside, even the cranky old nurse had to give in. It felt so good breathing the outside air. I didn’t even mind the looks I got from the people in the park behind the hospital. For the first time in this ordeal, it just felt good to be alive.
Six weeks after my leg was amputated, I was released. John brought the car around, and helped me into my new wheelchair. It was much lighter and more maneuverable than the clunky old chrome plated steel jobs the hospital uses. This one was carbon fiber, with beautiful viridian paint job on it. It actually looked exciting, like a sports car. Then I realized, I would always be seen with it. The chair and I would be inseparable. Since artificial legs are out of the question, since I have no stumps to move them, this would be my sole form of locomotion when we are out in public, and for most of the rest of the time.
After reflecting on all this for a moment or two, I pushed up on the armrests and swung myself into the new chair. John wheeled me to the car, picked me up, and helped me in. It was so strange, facing the world again as a legless woman. I thought of this, as I went to buckle my seatbelt, and discovered I had no lap to put it across. My ever thoughtful husband showed me a pair of hooks on the sides of the seat. These were to loop the belt over, allowing it to go right across the front of my hips.
“Sorry dear. I was so looking forward to getting you home, I forgot to show you how I’ve adapted things to your rather intriguing new form. Please forgive me.” he said apologetically.
I was so touched, I just had to throw my arms around him and kiss him. It was one of those long, deep kisses you give someone who has just done something so moving, that words couldn’t possibly hope to do it
justice. The passion of his embrace was every bit as warm.
“I can’t wait to have you back home, my love.” John’s voice had a low, gravely tone to it. I know he’s a perfect gentleman, but I could tell the lust was rising in the boy something fierce. Quite frankly, even thought I was still tender in my right hip, and still overcoming the trauma of the surgery, I was feeling a bit of a stir myself.
We left to drive home. I really missed being out on the road, watching the scenery go by. We drove along the shore, and the smell of the salt air invigorated me. It was going to be a wonderful day.
We pulled into the driveway, and the first thing I noticed was the short extension on the side of the house.
“While you were in the hospital, I made some changes. I had your side of the garage widened by three feet so you can get into and out of the car, as well as the upstairs, to accommodate your elevator. This should make it much easier for you to get around. There are other changes as well. When you are a little further down the road to recovery, we’ll get you a new car, and have it adapted so my beautiful, legless wife can drive herself around, and have the freedom to enjoy yourself. Does all this meet with your approval?”, he asked, seeming only a little pleased with himself.
I was in awe. I didn’t know what to say. John went to great lengths to please me and accommodate my abbreviated body. During my stay in the hospital, I was worried about how I was going to make myself up to him for becoming so crippled. Yet, John is the one going WAY out of his way to please ME! I was absolutely speechless.
After we pulled into the garage, John got my wheelchair out of the back, and picked me up. He is always amazed at how light I am. He placed me in the wheelchair, and pushed me to the elevator.
“Open the door.” he asked. The button was just at the right height. The door opened, and we went in. I pushed the button for the second floor. The door opened at the top, and we went into the bedroom.
“I’ll be right back. I want to get your things out of the car. I won’t be long.”, he promised.


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