Personal Narrative-Physiotherapist

I looked down at my stump of a leg, now a useless extra limb. My whole body ached, not from the pain in my leg, but in fear of the pain that was about to begin. I sat up in my bed, not wanting to leave the safety of the covers. It had been two weeks and I needed to move. I let my other foot touch the floor and using all my will power I stood on one leg holding on to the bedside table. My stump swung back and forth uselessly. Then I was falling. My head slapped on the cold, hard wood. The room span as I opened my eyes. My leg was throbbing. My will power was gone. I would never walk again. I lay in bed limply for what felt like another year. My future loomed over me; never going out , meals in bed, my muscles wasting away. I had a life, I had a future, now all I have is being known for having one leg and a bad reputation. I

The ringing of the phone pierced the sound of my shrieks of my laughter and snapped my mind into life. I reached over and picked it up, they asked me if I was stable to which I replied yes and they then asked me if I could come in, to the hospital, for a physiotherapist to fit a prosthetic. I hung up. I had to make a choice. I would either lie here and rot with guilt, or get up and try to live what was meant to be the rest of my life . The choice seemed obvious. I fumbled for the phone and let it rest in my hands. I stared at it obliviously not knowing what to do. Without thinking my fingers moved over different numbers and pressed them. "Hello?", a small voice called from the phone, I recognized it at once. My voice shook and stuttered as I began to speak, "I 'm sorry.", I said clearly. The voice replied, "I know you are." The line cut out and the comfort of the voice was gone. It was my fault, all of it. I killed my brother. He was seven, played baseball in a little league team. He loved his life and I cut it short to skip a traffic light. I destroyed his hopes and dreams and I will never forgive myself for