Finding her footing

Frontenac resident Linda Mills and her family have been through a lot since August 8, 2011, when she collapsed in the garden of her then home in the country near Abilene.

The story began in 2005, when Mills had both knees surgically replaced. But the bones in both of her legs shattered where the replacements were attached, Mills said, and she had dual replacement surgeries again in 2008. Those procedures didn’t last either, and on Aug. 8, 2011, after Mills had returned home from her job as a quality inspector at an ALCO warehouse and was working in her garden, she collapsed, unconscious.

She had unknowingly been walking around for months on replacement knees that were crushed and heavily infected, and she was taken to Salina Regional Hospital when doctors at the tiny hospital in Abilene couldn’t determine the cause of her illness.

“I should have realized something was wrong,” Mills said in January. “The doctors said I was OK, and I’m one of those people who, if you tell me I’m OK, then I’m OK.”

The doctors were unable to successfully treat Mills’ infected knees. And the medication they were using to treat the infections was wreaking havoc on her kidneys and other organs, and she had to go on dialysis. Mills’ condition continued to spiral, and on Sept. 22, surgeons amputated her legs above the knees to save her life. Then, on Oct. 4, she was transferred to Landmark Hospital — which is designed specifically for end-of-life and critically ill patient care — in Joplin, so that her husband, Rex, and their daughter, Amy Price, who lives in Frontenac, could take care of her if and while she recovered.

“That hospital saved her life,” Amy said in January. She recounted most of the details of the first few months at Landmark because Mills has little recollection of events.
At Landmark, Amy said, Mills started on the long road to recovery, one that was fraught with difficulty. Her body did not take well to the morphine she was given for the pain, and she said it was often difficult to distinguish reality from fantasy.

“There were a lot of times I thought ‘It’s not worth it,’” Mills said after a therapy session in January. “It was very frustrating, and I was often a horrible patient. But I received wonderful care.”

The experience was tough on her daughter and husband, too. But a little bit of humor went a long way, Amy said.

“There were so many times she’d say ‘Just let me die,’ and I had to keep telling her ‘This is God’s way of teaching them how to handle people when they come into the hospital like this,” Amy said with a grin.

Mills’ system crashed around Thanksgiving and for a few moments she was, for all intents and purposes, dead. But doctors were able to resuscitate her, and things started to go right.

“I thought, ‘God is giving me a warning to straighten up my act,” she said.

So that’s what Mills did. She got new prosthetic legs a couple months ago, and her therapists say they’re astonished by her positive attitude and fast recovery.

“She’s the only double amputee we’ve had in a year and a half,” rehab tech Chalynn Adam said Thursday morning as Mills ambled about on her new prosthetic Stubbies. “Her personality encourages the other patients we have.”

Therapist Ryan Niederklein agreed.

“She’s probably one of the most motivated and determined patients I’ve ever had,” Niederklein said. “She’s very independent, and she finds a way to do things. You go to do something for her and she’s done it already.”

The Stubbies Mills is learning to maneuver on are foreshortened prostheses used during and sometimes after initial ambulatory rehabilitation, according to the Amputee Coalition’s website. They are custom fitted and are usually made up of standard sockets, no articulated knee joints or shank, with modified rocker bottoms or Sach feet turned backward to prevent the individual from falling. The design allows bilateral leg amputees to achieve a lower center of gravity for better balance and stability.
Right now Mills is learning to walk with the five inch tall legs, but those can eventually be lengthened to 12 inches, and then gradually a knee joint can be added, she said. She’ll probably need a cane to get around for the rest of her life, though.

Trying to walk without feet and toes to adjust your balance is not easy task, and Mills spends a lot of time working on her core strength and balance.

“Balance is a big deal,” Niederklein said. “Your center of gravity changes, and you have to get rid of the fear. A lot of patients aren’t sure if their new legs are going to hold up, or how to move them.”

But Mills isn’t easily deterred.

“I have to remind myself to look up and use my peripheral vision,” Mills said. “But wearing the legs is like playing a game; You just have to beat yourself.”

Learning how to walk isn’t the only change Mills and Rex have to deal with. In January they moved into a house that Amy and her husband, David, had purchased next door to their home in Frontenac — the idea was that because Mills’ knees were already bad they would eventually move to Frontenac so the Price’s could take care of them.

“It just sped that up more,” Amy said.

The house has been made handicap accessible so Mills can move around on her scooter, and she’s learning to cook while on the scooter, too. That doesn’t mean there aren’t hard times, though.

“Sometimes I can feel my legs rubbing inside, but do I complain? Do I just walk through it?” Mills said. “When do you complain? You have to learn to ask yourself that.”

Rex has been there to help her every step of the way, too. Something Mills said she’s grateful for.

“He doesn’t bat an eye,” Mills said. “He’s there for me. He’s just always been a guy that takes things as they come.”

Mills lost her legs and her mobility to a degree. But now she’s near her family and gets to cook for her grandkids. And Rex has plenty to keep him busy.

“In a lot of ways, I think things are better for us,” she said.