Linda's Story

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Linda's Story

Post: # 33785Unread post Didier
03 Oct 2018, 22:32

Part 1

This is my story as I lived it, felt it and as seen through my eyes. At 28 years old some might think it would be difficult to remember events that occurred many years ago, but when these events lead to the amputation of one's leg, believe me you remember every detail.
Other members of my family most likely see this period in my life much differently because I never let my true feelings be known. I always did as I was told and never questioned the doctor's decisions....until the last operation before my right leg had to be amputated. But I am getting way ahead of myself, so let's start at beginning.
I am the 5th child of 8 born into a poor family with an alcoholic father and a mother who did the best she could to keep a roof over our heads. Before I was a year old all 5 of us were placed in an orphanage because my father had left again, as he did after each of us was born. My mother would probably still be with him today were it not for the fact that after the last child was born he never came back. Daddy was not a class act.
While at the orphanage I contracted polio which left the muscles in my right leg below the knee very weak and in time the leg atrophied and was shorter than the other. By the time of the amputation it was eight inches shorter than my good leg and quite useless.
I don't remember the orphanage at all, just what my mother told me about the time I spent there. My first vivid memories were when we were all back home together again and my sister and I were outside playing. A lady commented about how sweet I was to get around on my cute little crutches.
This lady on the street was not the only person interested in my crutches. It seems that for some reason children are fascinated with crutches and want to play with them. I would let my sister use a crutch when we played Pirate. To this day I can get around as well on a single crutch as I can with two. This ability came in handy when my son was born. I could carry him in my free arm and still get around very well on my leg and one crutch.
One time when I was 5 years old my sister and I were playing Pirate my brother joined in our game. Needless to say, we were one crutch short so I let my brother use my one remaining crutch. Without my crutch for support I was forced to hop around on my good leg. Coming down the stairs I lost my balance and fell, breaking my kneecap. Up until this time I could bend my knee easily but after the cast was removed it was very painful to bend. After a while I had some mobility in the knee but it was never the same.
It was during this time in my life that I became aware that I was not the same as other kids. This is a very frightening experience for a child to discover you are different. Children want to be just like their peers.
When I was 6 years old and in first grade something happened that made the upcoming summer vacation very unpleasant. We were playing on the playground after lunch when the bell rang. As I turned to go in, John, one of my classmates, ran past me on my right side knocking my crutch out from under me. I was in mid stride with my good leg off the ground so my full weight was on the hand grips. I had no chance to catch myself and down I went, breaking my collarbone and my leg. I spent most of the summer indoors. I didn't mind the cast on my leg because I could use my crutches to get around, but with my arm immobile for 12 weeks, all I could do was sit around the house and feel sorry for myself.
When I returned to school in the fall my second grade nun called me to the side and told me I was not allowed to play with the other kids at lunch or recess and I was to get to school in the morning no sooner than five minutes before the bell rang for class. When I got home that afternoon and asked my mother why I couldn't play at school with my friends, she said that I had to be careful not to break my leg again because the doctors were going to make it just like my other leg. Of course my mother knew this was not true, but she had to make me believe everything would be OK.
I won't go into the events of the next eight years except to say there were five more operations instead of one and my leg was broken six more times. I missed a lot of school but always passed into the next grade.
A pin was put in my knee and ankle and bone grafts from my right hip. After each of these operations my leg was worse than before, It seemed that every time I looked at it more damage was done. By the time my leg was amputated it was a mass of scars and I couldn't even stand to look at it! I wanted to tell my mom how I felt that I wanted to be free of that ugly useless thing, but I never did because I knew she would not understand. However, I knew it would eventually have to come off and I was happy about that.
The last operation before the amputation occurred when I was 14 years old. This time I spent four months in the hospital. They tried to straighten out my ankle by putting on a cast. It was too tight and the leg became infected and three months later was amputated above the knee.
When my mother told me they were going to amputate it, joy came over my face. Mom thought I was crazy, but when I threw back the covers and said, "Mom, look at that damn thing," she understood and she hugged me and we both cried.
Sandy and I were roommates at Children's Memorial Hospital for three weeks. Sandy had bone cancer and her left leg was amputated at the hip two days before my surgery.
We were both up and around about the same time and I really felt good about teaching her the correct walking techniques. After all I was a pro on crutches at age 10 and she was a novice at 16. After we left the hospital we stayed in touch either by phone or letters.
Sandy lived in an exclusive suburb and invited me to visit her for two weeks during the summer. On the grounds were a swimming pool, tennis court and a guest house with a separate wing for the servants.
Sandy had been fitted with a prosthesis and I was amazed how well she got around when she didn't even have a stump. Those two weeks went by too quickly. I felt like a princess in a fairy tale.
The night before I was leaving Sandy had a date and I sat in her room watching her get dressed. She was a tall girl, just over 5'7" with long black hair and green eyes. As I watched her get ready I was thinking I hope I look as pretty when I'm 16.
When the maid knocked on the door to announce that Bob was downstairs I realized that Sandy had not put on her prosthesis. She was using her crutches. When I asked her why she was not wearing her prosthesis she laughed and said Bob thought she was a lot sexier on one leg with her crutches. She said when I got old she would tell me about it.
I didn't learn what she meant until I was 26 years old because my dear friend died the following April. The cancer had spread to her liver. It was only three months after the doctors discovered the recurrence until she died.
When I returned to school after my last stay in the hospital, I was on two legs. I had been fitted with a prosthesis and spent the whole summer learning to walk properly.
Over the next four years I was never without it in public. This was not easy because of the discomfort in my hip caused by the bone grafts. I developed an arthritic condition and tended to gain and lose weight. My stump was always sore, but this seemed a small price to pay for looking normal.
When I was 16 I quit school because I felt so out of touch both scholastically and socially. I was passed from grade to grade because of my handicap but never learned very much. As far as socializing with boys there was none. I was 16 years old and never had a date.
During this period of my life I met Roger. We met at a birthday party my sister gave for her boyfriend. Roger asked me to dance and I said I was not a good dancer so we just sat and talked. He said he was in the Marine Corps and stationed in Hawaii and was returning in two days after a month's leave. When he asked if he could see me the next day I was thrilled. I was going on my first date! We went to the zoo and after walking for three hours I asked Roger if we could sit for a while (my stump was getting sore from all the walking and I was beginning to limp. I had to rest).
Up to this time I had not mentioned my leg. As we sat there... [missing line]...
Then he kissed me. We sat on the bench kissing for a long time before either of us spoke again. Up to this time this was the happiest day of my life.
That night when we were alone at his house he asked me to marry him. I didn't have to hesitate a minute. "Of course I'll marry you, Roger."
I was all over him and wanted to make love to him and feel like a complete woman. Roger said he respected me and we should wait until we are married. I didn't want to wait all I wanted was him inside of me. God, I thought, what an honorable man.
After seeing Roger off the next day I really felt all alone. A letter came in about a week saying his C. O. had given permission for our marriage and I was in heaven.
My mother was really happy for me and helped with all the wedding plans. She probably thought no man would ever want me so she was thrilled about the whole thing as I was.
Roger was there to meet me when the plane landed and we were married the next day.



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Re: Linda's Story

Post: # 33786Unread post Didier
03 Oct 2018, 22:34

Part 2

Hawaii is a beautiful state, much like my idea of paradise. But even paradise has its pitfalls. Roger was not the man I thought he was. I found him unable to respond sexually to me. Perhaps it was because of my amputation. He liked for me to be around much like a cocktail waitress when he entertained at home, but when we were alone he was unresponsive. He wouldn't allow me to remove my prosthesis around his friends and when we went to bed, it was something I had to do in the dark. Roger never touched me; even his occasional kisses stopped after six months. I had yet to know what sexual fulfillment was like. The frustration in our relationship mounted until finally I gave up. Divorce was the only recourse. With humiliation I called home for plane fare and tried to explain my devastation to my family. My anger increased day by day. Like a volcano I erupted by discarding my prosthesis for the last week I was there. I returned to using crutches again.
I placed my artificial limb in a conspicuous corner of the bedroom for Roger to see and I left Hawaii in quite a huff. On my return flight, I did a lot of soul searching and vowed from then on people would have to take me as is. No cover up; just one legged me. I've since been fitted with a new prosthesis but because of my weak muscles and arthritis, I forego the cosmetic value for comfort.
Upon resuming my life back home, I went back to school for basic secretarial skills, but my private life was nil. The devastating effect of the marriage lingered on. I couldn't help thinking I was repulsive. My family and friends were very supportive and even got pushy to the point of arranging social situations for me. It was on one of these occasions when I couldn't find a good excuse to stay home that I met Joe.
The meeting took place at a friend's house. I crutched into the room to see Joe for the first time. His face seemed so warm and kind. He was one of the friendliest people I had met in a long time. The evening progressed with lots of easy talking. Joe never brought any attention to my missing leg. I told him all about my amputation to set him at ease and he never brought it up again.
We saw a lot of each other after that. It seems like we were together more than we were apart. Joe became my first real lover and eventually we moved into an apartment together.
I became pregnant with Joe's child. We wanted to get married so it became necessary to locate Roger again. Roger had arranged for our divorce. I was not looking forward to this but Joe was as supportive as he could be. It took us a long time to track Roger down. I finally located him and his new wife. I finally received the official papers thru the mail. This all took four years and by the time the papers were received our pattern of living together was set. Joe felt there was no need for a legal marriage. After all, we had been living together as man and wife all this time without a license, so what was the need now.
After more than ten years, I have come to realize that there are few permanent relationships. We've been through a lot of rough times. Long periods of Joe's unemployment when I was the sole support for the three of us. Neither of us is flawless, but I feel indebted to Joe for rebuilding my ego and much to his regret he has even fostered a strong independence in me.
I was about 26 when I found out about my exclusive sexual attractiveness. This came about when a man called me at work. He was a total stranger to me but he knew that I was an amputee. He said he ran a shoe exchange for amputees. I asked him how he got my number. He said he happened to see me enter the building where I work and called the office asking about the one legged girl he saw entering the building. Since I was answering the phone I was able to talk without him knowing. He explained about a shoe exchange. I thought it strange but a novel idea. I always have unused shoes around but never knew what to do with them. Our phone conversations became more frequent and subsequently we met. A friendship evolved. Joe and I spent several evenings with him and his wife.
One evening we were to meet with John and Sally to play cards. Joe was to meet me at their home after work. The three of us were chit chatting and waiting for Joe to arrive. He finally called. He was out after work with the boys and already intoxicated. He was not coming. I was so embarrassed and I couldn't cover up my feelings in front of John and Sally. They were very understanding. We talked for hours that night and during the course of the evening John explained to me about the "hobby"... Initially I was surprised but Sally and John explained things to me so I would understand. I must admit that I was very naive. It's funny, but I was able to understand some puzzling things that had happened to me before I met them. I can remember being out and someone taking a picture of me unsuspectingly. Men going just one step further than common courtesy in holding a door open. Being followed for blocks but never approached. These things didn't happen often but they were incidents I remember. John and Sally have become good friends of mine and have encouraged me to strike out on my own.
It was through them I met Bette. When I heard about Fascination I was asked to write my story and the photo offering was an afterthought on my part.
Thanks to you all for the kind letters and orders. I have met some truly nice people. Many have asked for more pictures so I am making another photo offering of 10 pictures for $30.00. When ordering please specify Set #1, #2, or #3.
I am planning a column in Fascination called "Ask Linda." If you have any questions send them to Fascination and I will answer in the next issue.

L. H.


The preceeding article appeared in two issues of Fascination. Linda is a most appealing pretty, petite young blonde RAK, with a delightfully shaped long stump. She appears to be every young amp lover's dream. And indeed she may be.
Unfortunately, the story is largely fiction. Turns out her name isn't Linda Howard but Liz Catlin, and she knew nothing about the use of her photos, offered for sale in Fascination and later in Nugget. She received none of the money paid for the photo sets.
The story was written, and the pictures were offered, by Alan and Rose Hartmann. They would also answer letters written to "Linda" in response to the articles and ads. Ms. Catlin, best can be told, knew nothing of any of this. She was told that the pictures were to be published in a "magazine for handicapped people."
"Linda Howard" is a fictitious name used by Alan and Rose Hartman (postal address) to promote the sale of photos of one Liz Catlin and three (pirated) videos featuring Rose Petra. The letters were written by Rose Hartman (who is able bodied) at the dictation of her husband. Liz Catlin did/does not know this couple was selling her photos or pretending to be her, nor did she receive any income from the sale of her photos. Hartman persuaded her to pose for the photos by telling her they would be used with an article to be published in a magazine "for handicappedpeople," and represented himself as working for Bette Hagglund. This is one of the more egregious examples of a hobbyist posing as an amputee in order to sell pictures. Unfortunately, it is not the only one.
I'm not sure that anyone knows where the lady can be found, but I'm reasonably certain she still does not know about the Hartmans' activities. Those came to a halt partly because of a shortage of fresh merchandise, but also because I made damn sure word got around about the real nature of the situation. (Hartman actually had the nerve to call Bette this summer and complain about my ruining his "business.") Liz Catlin is now 39 years old. It's anyone's guess whether she still looks as she did when those pictures were taken seven years ago. But in any case, for reasons I'm not at liberty to divulge, I can say that the likelihood that Ms. Catlin would ever pose for pictures again is just about zero.

Dan



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Re: Linda's Story

Post: # 33787Unread post Didier
03 Oct 2018, 22:38

Didier wrote:
03 Oct 2018, 22:00
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Didier wrote:
03 Oct 2018, 22:16
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Didier wrote:
03 Oct 2018, 22:17
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Didier wrote:
03 Oct 2018, 22:18
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Re: Linda's Story

Post: # 50648Unread post Romka
15 May 2020, 16:01

Didier,

Where have you got this story from, including Dan's remark? Do you know, what time the story and the remark date back to?
Have you any info on Ms. Catlins present (or later) whereabouts?



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Re: Linda's Story

Post: # 50650Unread post Didier
16 May 2020, 06:41

Romka wrote:
15 May 2020, 16:01
Where have you got this story from, including Dan's remark?
As far as I remember, this story was taken from Yahoo group "Amp Deja Vu". It was published circa 2000 but I don't know when it was written. I have no information neither about "Linda"'s destiny nor about other figurants of this story. I know only the fact that "Linda" was Al Pike's (RIP) patient and her prosthesis was, as usual, a chef-d'oevre of technique.

Regards -



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