How I lost my arm but kept my spirit alive

"Have you ever even for just a moment thought of your life without one of your hands? I hadn't until I found myself staring at a hard decision and a life that I was yet to live flashing before my eyes.

I had was in a car accident and the crush and my left elbow and veins were cut so bad that there was no blood supply to the rest of my hands including my fingers. After four surgeries to try and save my limb, the doctor advised that the only way out was having an amputation.

You see, I am an extrovert who enjoys going out and also a lover of fashion. I like to buy clothes, mostly mitumba, and refurbish them to suit my style or a particular trend. Lying in the hospital bed and moaning in pain, tens of thoughts were racing through my mind. "How will I be able to do my DIY projects and what will become of my passion for cooking?" "How will I lift my nieces and nephews?" Adding on to these heart-crushing thoughts was what would become of my relationship with my boyfriend. "Will he still love me? And even if he does, where will he put the ring?" 

Yet, I didn't have many hours to decide. It was a life–or–limb decision.

My life took a turn on a sunny afternoon on March 16, 2019. Then, I used to work as a receptionist for a construction firm and we worked Saturdays. Once I got to town, I thought of shopping for a few blouses before boarding a bus to the Utawala area, where I lived. Halfway to my "plug" place, I remembered that I didn't have enough money so I turned back and boarded the bus that was next in line.

I took the seat immediately behind the driver and was sandwiched between a man on my right and a woman on my left. She was deep into the book of Psalms. The drive of about 22 kilometers from town to Utawala takes at least an hour so while aboard, you will find passengers doing all manner of things to while the time away. Myself, I took out my phone and continued to watch a Hallmark movie on YouTube.

Periodically, I would take my eyes away from the movie and with a frown, look at the driver for speeding and at other passengers to see if someone else had taken note of the pace. After a while, someone alerted the matatu conductor that they were almost in their alighting stage. As the driver tried to switch lanes from the innermost to the service lane, he couldn't control the bus and we landed in a ditch.

It almost feels like yesterday. The shouts from those aboard and others that were guiding us of the way out from the wreckage. My white dress was soaking in blood and while walking a few metres from the scene, I saw blood gushing out of my left hand so I sat down and placed it on my lap as we waited for help. 

A nice couple offered to rush me to the hospital and even helped me to make calls to my loved ones. All this time, I was aware of what was happening around me but I was in too much shock that I don't remember feeling the pain on the journey to the hospital.

After the surgery and the anesthesia receded, I opened my eyes to a new me. I have an amazing support system of family and friends who were there by my side when I returned to the world of living. But, even if they wouldn't have been there, I had already made the decision that I was not letting denial unmoor me from reality. My husband and then-boyfriend assured me that he was not going to leave me because of my situation. We often joke that when they say "for better or for worse" we have already had our "worse" we got married in December last year.

However, even with this acceptance, adjusting was not easy. Immediately after the accident, I used to forget that I have no arm and I could try to hold on to something with the left hand but what made it worse was the phantom pain. This is pain that feels like it's coming from a part of the body that is no longer there. For instance, at times I feel very itchy on my 'fingers' but when I reach out and scratch my stump I don't feel relieved but thankfully, the itchiness disappears after a while.

The other challenge was going back to my old routine. Picture this, before I would get into the shower and just do my thing. Now. It has to be a two people affair because I need help with cleaning my right hand. Another thing is that I have to get someone to style my hair because I cannot do it alone. Then there is the matatu commute! Getting myself on the bus is still a task. 

For someone who was used to being independent, it was and still is difficult to ask for help. When I left the hospital, I really pushed myself to do my stuff but I have gradually learnt to ask for help when it's necessary and I still do some of the things I was passionate about, like cooking. My family and friends have been very supportive. My former co-workers too. I recently lost my job due to the negative impact of Covid-19 on the business. An assumption, because I didn't receive any explanation. 

Besides the adjustment, one thing that I had to accept was that I would always be met with stares and questions like, "what happened to your hand?" "Does it hurt?" After the accident, I covered myself with jackets and scarves to avoid the stares as they made me feel very uncomfortable. But that's in the past, now you will see me rocking short-sleeved tops and if someone stares or asks, I am happy to explain. 

I recently started a YouTube channel, Tet Mugweru RHL, to inspire other people and show them how I live the proverbial line, "making lemonades out of lemons." 

If I were to write a short letter to my missing limb, I would say,

'Dear Lefty, 

It has not been easy since you left two years ago. There is no one to wash righty or even help her in carrying heavy things. But, Righty has been surprising me every day with her strength and zeal. No day passes without me telling our story of how we were separated. I miss you sometimes but on most days, I am fine. 

Yours, Right Hand Lady.'"

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