TheOriginalJada.com

I am afraid of amputations. My fear actually qualifies as a phobia if you use the definition of a phobia to be, an unreasonable sort of fear that can cause avoidance and panic. It certainly is unreasonable, as I have no expectation of having to have an amputation myself and I haven’t had any direct negative experience with an amputation or amputee. Quite the contrary really, as I have known two people rather well with amputations and have enjoyed their company once I convinced myself to relax in their presence. But unexpectedly seeing someone with an amputation does cause avoidance and panic in me. I’ll look away as quickly as I can, my heart races, my face flushes, sometimes my hands tremble or I’ll feel nauseous. The extreme, irrational reaction over seeing someone with an amputation then causes me deep shame and guilt. It’s horrible. I hate it.

The mere contemplation of the possibility of my having a limb amputated makes me twitchy and ill. Of course, the direct and undeniable loss of a limb would be devastating. But, I think the real fear originates and dwells in a different thought.

The idea that a piece of me could be removed by someone who is utterly detached from the event makes me feel like I’ve been submerged in ice water. I have problems with detachment myself and just cannot wrap my head around how someone can be intimately involved in a situation and yet completely unaffected by it emotionally. It’s just not in my constitution.

Take the surgeon who preforms amputations. Here they are cutting and sawing and tweezing away a part of your body. Then sewing, cauterizing and closing up the remains. And then they remove their surgical gown and gloves, scrub up, walk away, go home and eat a sandwich. Never to think of you again. Just another day on the job.

It’s terrifying.