Dear Sir, - I have admired several pictures in your wonderful paper, so I enclose a snap of myself that shows that I am not at all handicapped by the loss of a leg. I am an Austrian girl by birth, 23 years of age. I was amputated at the age of 20. In the hope it will interest same of your readers, I will tell you the story of my amputation.
At the age of ten I had an inflammation in my right knee. It heeled all right, only the doctors told me to spare the knee joint for fear of new complications. But I was always an enthusiastic swimmer, and I liked diving, springing in the water, and so on.
In 1933 I dived from some height. I made a false movement and fell in such a way that I hurt my knee. I felt a sharp pain and had to be helped out of the water.
For many weeks I went to work, but one day I could not go on any longer. My boss was of the same opinion, and so I got the sack.
The doctor sent me to hospital. They put me under X-rays and tried everything. I felt worse and worse.
I prayed to God to save may life. Never in my life have I prayed so! My big brown eyes never left the Crucifix on the wall. The Almighty allowed me not to die, notwithstanding I had not always fulfilled my religious duties.
In the end they had to amputate my leg. When I was under narcose I dreamed I was in a running train as a lady reporter, interviewing the professor who was operating on me.
"Professor, you have a very interesting career... Yes, yes, you can cut through everything, make studies of everything.... Yes, yes, professor, but is it not terrible that you can't help a young human being full of life and illusions?"
When I came to me I was not immediately clear about what had happened. (They had not told me beforehand that they were going to amputate my leg.) Still, by and by, I realised that my leg was gone.
My first reaction was black despair. Now I am mutilated, what can I do? Then I knew that the answer was: Going to live. Life is worth living, even with only one leg. After a long period of pain and suffering I made my first trials in going.
Men who visit their sisters, sweethearts and mothers in the hospital look at me. Am I inspiring disgust? Pity? No, I have not lost my attraction on the members of the other sex! They pity me like strong men pity a little sweet girl. Some try to make my acquaintance. One strong healthy fellow will propose.
By and by I found my trust in life. When I came out of hospital I made my promenades, visited theatres, and one day I put on my swim-suit and went to the swimming pool again. For a short time I was swimming as much as before.
Now I have as many admirers as when I walked on two legs. I almost forget that I am walking on crutches. But I could not believe that a man with two legs would go on loving me in marriage. They say all men are false!
Or am I wrong? Can I listen without distrust to sweet words? Is there somebody who will be true to me, who will not, in the long run, quench my warm, strong heart?
I have listened to one man. I am married now, and happy. But it does not yet last long. So I still ask myself if in the long run matters will not turn wrong.
But that belongs no more to the story of my amputation.
Dear Editor, I hope this letter is not too long. Would it interest you and some of your readers, then I will tell you later some more of my experiences as a one-legged girl, and send you some better snaps.
Yours truly,
Monopede Swimmer