I caught a cold and lost my limbs
Although I’d stared death in the face, I was determined it wasn’t going to win
Cor Hutton, 48, Lochwinnoch
It’s time for a decision, I’m afraid,’ the doctor said.
Looking at my arms and legs, I shivered in fear. Creeping up my limbs was a frightening black shadow. Sepsis. It was June 2013. If my feet and legs weren’t amputated, I’d be dead within weeks. All this from a simple cold that turned into pneumonia, before attacking my organs and tissues. After three weeks in a coma, the infection had gnawed away at my hands and feet. Now it was spreading. Closing my eyes I remembered hurtling across the finish line of the New York City Marathon, cycling the Great Wall of China, trekking the Himalayas. I pictured my son Rory, just 4, about to begin school. Without my limbs, would I ever hug him again, push him on a swing? ‘Cor...’ the doctor said gently. ‘Let’s do it,’ I sighed. I had no choice. Over six weeks, surgeons operated 13 times. When my parents brought Rory to see me, I was desperate to hold him. I held out my stumps and his eyes went wide at the bandages. Then, his gaze dropped to the empty space
where my legs should’ve been. ‘It’s OK, Rory,’ I soothed. He hesitated before warily coming for a cuddle.
I wanted to curl into a ball and cry. But I couldn’t crumble, for Rory’s sake.
With gruelling physio, I gradually built up my strength.
My family moved my bedroom to the lounge, installed a ramp at the door, and took care of me.
I felt so lucky to have them, and their support got me thinking about the future again.
‘I want to inspire others like me,’ I told Mum Doreen, then 69, and Dad Colin, 70.
‘What do you have in mind?’ Mum asked.
I’d always pushed myself to the limit, loved adrenaline.
Why did it have to change now I was a quadruple amputee?
So, in January 2014, my charity Finding Your Feet was born, supporting amputees through sport and activities.
The next month, I walked my first mile in prosthetics, hand in hand with Rory.
Incredible!
More firsts followed. Doing my make-up, making a cup of tea...
But when the firsts ended, so did the excitement.
I became depressed. My life had changed so much, I needed to find my strength again.
So, focusing on Rory and growing my charity, I threw myself into new challenges.
‘Mum’s going abseiling!’ I told Rory. ‘Wow!’ he beamed. Cycling competitions, then the London Triathlon.
Crossing the finish line, I felt alive again.
In July 2016, I climbed up and down Ben Nevis in 10 hours. There was no stopping me! In October 2018, I flew to Tanzania, and at base camp I eyed my biggest challenge yet. Mount Kilimanjaro. There’s no pain like pulling on your prosthetic legs after a day of climbing.
But I did it, every day for five days until we reached the peak.
I was in agony, but the pride and determination washed the physical pain away.
When you first lose a limb, little things like lifting your head from under the duvet, or laughing again, feel huge.
That’s why Finding Your Feet isn’t just about the extreme challenges. It’s about the small things, too, showing you can get the old ‘you’ back.
Now, we organise 50 clubs a month, including swimming, cycling and gardening, and have more than 200 active members.
We also have a counsellor offering emotional support to amputees and their families.
And every day we prove that nothing is impossible.