LITMIR.BIZ

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and the biting metal of the Thomas Splint.

      ‘Thank you, God,’ I pray. ‘Thank you that the miracle worked and I still have my leg!’ I drift back into the most wonderful of dreams, smiling.

      When I open my eyes again the dawn is breaking and a pale light fills the room. Mum and Dad have been here day and night for me but, at this instant, I am alone. The figure who sat with me through the night is gone. I remember my leg has been cured. I can feel it, warm and still beside my good one. I try to move it … but it seems to be paralysed for some reason. Perhaps, I think, it is fastened to a splint. I reach down with my hand to explore. I put my hand on my thigh but I feel the cotton of the sheets. Blindly, I grope around but I cannot find my leg. I strain and lift my head, and see the truth.

      I can hear a voice screaming and screaming. I wonder whose it is and then I realize it is mine. A nurse runs to me.

      ‘My leg! Where is my leg?’ I scream and do not stop until my mother steps back into the room and her kind voice breaks into my terror.

      ‘Mary,’ she sobs, ‘your leg is gone.’

      ‘But I can feel it, I know it’s there!’

      She says gently: ‘That’s not really your leg. It is your phantom leg. It is a trick of your mind.’

      This mental torture is more agonizing than anything I will ever know again – anguish at the deception of my own body. I have no leg now, only a sensation of one. I want to feel nothing. I do not want a reminder of all I have lost. Even the tumour pain still mocks me; the evil Limpet which caused this grief still reminds me of its presence. Not so much pain, more the suggestion of pain. Worse than pain. Impossible to put into words.

      ‘The miracle,’ I whisper to my mum but she can’t hear me. She smoothes my forehead with a cold damp cloth. She shakes her head, not understanding.

      ‘It didn’t work, Mum. The miracle didn’t happen after all.’

3

      This is the first day I have had any time to myself since the awful moment I woke up and discovered the miracle had failed. I feel as if I am living in another world, a world that I don’t want to be in. People come and go in my room and I talk to them but I cannot remember what I have said. I smile and nod, I even pray with them, but it cannot be me. I feel numb, detached and unreal. I am living in a horrible dream and soon I will wake up again. They tell me I am brave and my faith is an inspiration but I do not even know what I am saying. I don’t want to be brave; I want to be whole. I don’t want to be an inspiration; I would rather be beautiful.

      If I lie here with my eyes closed, I can feel my left leg – every inch of it. I am keeping my eyes closed so I don’t have to be in this world where terrible things happen. I can pretend I am somewhere, anywhere, just as long as I have my leg back. Two days have gone by now and I have not looked under the sheets yet. The nurses come and fuss, changing dressings and pulling at the tubes draining my bladder and my wounds. Dr Jimmy hangs up bags of blood to run through my drip and I watch the bright red fluid feeding me back to life, a life that I no longer recognize.

      ‘You’re looking better,’ they say to me. I want to scream at them.

      ‘No, I am never going to look better,’ I want to say.

      Today is Monday 10 January 1983. They took my leg on Friday. I cannot remember Saturday. I kept drifting in and out of sleep. Sometimes I woke up and thought my leg was there and then, other times, I knew it wasn’t. My mum was always there for me, holding me like a baby and stroking my hair. I remember she pulled my hands away time and time again when I tried to explore my damaged body. Except it is not my body any more; I do not recognize it. Yesterday I woke up a little bit more but, when I did, I wanted to be asleep again because it was hurting so much. Pains as sharp as hot pins started to shoot down my missing leg from hip to toe and what is left of it started to jump with a life of its own.

      I was so scared and frightened and I began to cry. Dr Jimmy came and explained it is caused by the nerves beginning to learn that my leg is no longer there. He weighted my stump down with some little bags of sand. He asked me if I wanted to look at it but I couldn’t. I don’t want to see it, ever. I am just going to lie here and pretend my leg is still there.

      Yesterday I had loads of visitors. My best friend, Adele, surprised me by turning up. She is stunning-looking: blonde, tall and leggy. I told her I felt ugly and she is going to help me feel better about that. She promised to bring me in some pretty nightdresses and then she brushed my hair for me. She actually said it looked as if the poison was out of my body. She said I looked healthier already. I guess in a way she is right; I suppose the cancer was poisoning me. But I have been wondering if maybe it would have been better to be poisoned.

      I asked Dr Jimmy how long the jumping and the pains would go on for. He said it could take a long time and the phantom feelings might always stay with me. He said I will get used to it and adapt, but I can’t see how. It is really annoying me that I cannot cross my feet. I keep moving as if to, and then I realize the phantom leg can’t move. It is paralysed. Normally, I can feel my two knees gently touching each other and lying there side by side like two good friends. Now there is only one knee in the bed. I want to cry, I want to shout and scream, but I can’t; I feel frozen. It is as if time inside has stopped and everything else around me is carrying on.

      When I get the pains I ask the nurses for an injection. It hurts when they do it but then it makes me feel lovely, all floaty and dreamy. Nothing seems to matter to me then, not even my missing leg. I feel extraordinarily happy after it so I ask the nurses for the injection as often as I can. It is like lying on a cloud and it makes me laugh a lot. They also give me tablets which just make me relax and sleep, so I can lie here and dream away and not have to think about the real world. I think I will stay here for as long as I can.

      Because it was Sunday yesterday, loads of priests came to see me. It looked a bit like Vatican City. One of the older ones brought me Communion and said a prayer but it sounded hollow. He prayed for me to be strengthened instead of healed. I don’t want to be strengthened; I want my leg back. I do not understand why the miracle didn’t work despite the fact that everybody prayed so hard for healing. I was convinced God was going to save my leg. I thought God always heard our prayers. I have so many questions and no answers. When I ask the priests they say there is a purpose behind it all. They say God uses suffering. I don’t want to be used any more. If I pray hard enough I know I will have my leg back. That would be the second miracle. Hopefully it will happen soon. I know I am going to walk out of here on two healthy legs. Then the cancer will disappear, which will be the third miracle. Then everybody will believe in God – they would have to, if a leg grew back. That is probably why God has done this to me! Yes, that is His purpose. He is going to use me, just as I asked that day in the church in the Lake District.

      Mum and Dad have been with me around the clock since the amputation. I cannot bear to see them crying and so sad. I have been trying to tell them God is going to heal me but somehow it seems to make them feel worse. I need to be strong for them so they don’t get hurt any more. I want to be brave so they will be happy again. I feel guilty because I have made them so upset. They ask me how I am and I say I am all right because I hate to see them this worried. And I will be all right, once I get my leg back.

      I am awoken from my daydreams by a knock on the door. It is early in the morning, so it can’t be more visitors. Mr Peach enters my room.

      ‘Hello, my brave Little Lady,’ he greets me, and immediately I feel better. ‘How is my star patient?’

      I want to please him and bask in his admiration, for he is my hero.

      ‘I’m fine,’ I say, and smile.

      ‘How is your pain today?’

      ‘It’s not very nice. I can feel my leg as if it’s still there and I keep feeling as if somebody is pricking it with sharp pins. Dr Jimmy told me the pains might be around for a long time.’ I wait for him to answer, holding my breath. Maybe Jimmy

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