The Story of Rob Mallory

Losing a limb is hard work. There are so many things that you don't think about when you're told that a foot needs to be removed. The big things are the first to enter your mind. Obvious stuff, like walking, driving, and counting to twenty. But there are myriad small things that you don't realize at first. Simple things, like going to the bathroom, taking shower, and doing jumping jacks. But all of these things sort of pale in comparison to one very big thing that I did not think about. The zombie apocalypse. For years I've had a zombie apocalypse plan. We've had a team hand picked, with each person bringing their own special talents to the team. We had a meeting place figured out. Pretty much any detail that you can think of, we've had planned out for a long time. Unfortunately we did not plan on my losing my right foot. And this obviously changes a lot. We want each team member to be able to carry their own weight. Clearly I can not do that. So I'm le

Since this blog is an all inclusive journey through my life, I figured I should talk about music here as well. Music has always been a huge part of my life. My dad brought me up on a diverse list of music. But one band he never cared much for was Kiss. So it wasn't until I was a senior in High School that I really started getting into them. But once I found them, I dug into their catalog, and got lost in their catchy melodies, somewhat disturbing lyrics, and bombastic stage show. When I found the '78 solo records, I didn't realize that I was in for a journey through four completely different elements of the band, stripped down and showing their true side. And so here, I thought I'd talk briefly about each of the four. Gene Simmons: This disc is really hard for me to listen to. There are a few bright spots ("Radioactive", "Man of 1,000 Faces", "See You Tonite"), but overall, I just don't care for this album. It's overproduced, u

When I come here to write a new blog post, and I see the blank screen, I sit and wonder what I should write about. Have I said everything that needs to be said already? Does anybody even want to read what I write here? Is it really that therapeutic for me? In the end, I write anyway. Maybe it's just something to take my mind off of what's going on around me. Maybe it's a way to feel really connected to what's going on. Whatever the reason, I enjoy writing. Whether or not anyone reads it doesn't matter much to me. I do this for me. And if there is someone that reads my words, and they take anything away from it, I'm happy to have been some type of help to someone. With that in mind, I stare at my blank screen, and then I just start writing. I like it. It gets my brain working. Now how was that for an intro? Maybe it was a little long? I do that sometimes. I just get rambling, and find it hard to stop. Hell, I have another paragraph going here, with little to

As life continues on around us all, there are times that we must stop and think about those that aren't with us any longer. And in my chaotic life, there is one person that I miss more than any of the others, my dear Uncle Casey. Casey is my mom's older brother, and someone who was much more than an uncle to me. He was my friend. I could sit for hours and talk to that man. Sometimes I didn't even know what the hell we were talking about. And many times, I can't even say that it made much sense. To an outsider, we would have sounded completely crazy. But I'll tell you something: I believe that a lot of my creativity came from him. The weird things we would say, that we could hold up a conversation with for long periods of time, really got my creative mind working overtime. When I was a kid, there was something sort of mysterious, and a little intimidating about Uncle Casey. He wasn't my scariest uncle, as that title had always gone to Uncle Walt, but he wa

In my younger days, I got the opportunity to prepare for the arrival of three kids. My kids. It was an exciting time. I had no real illusions that any of them would improve my marriage. But I knew that they would each improve my life. And they each did. A lot. I got the privilege of watching them grow. Watching them become the people that they are today. And while all three have plenty of growing to do still, I am so proud of them. My youngest, Samantha, was born in January of 2007. That was eleven years ago. And here I am, getting ready for the arrival of another baby. My baby girl, Hope. And this time, the situation is much different. And I could not be happier about it. First off, if you haven't followed my blog posts close enough, or don't know me at all, this past year I got out of an eighteen year marriage that had long since stopped meaning anything to me. It was a hard situation, and frankly a rough life. With my ex-wife, we had three kids. This time around, I am w

This may not be the most upbeat post. And at this current moment, I am doing fine, and feeling upbeat. But I need to talk about the other times. The times when I'm not so upbeat. And even though they are few, they do exist. I feel it's important for me to say what I need to say here. Both the ups, the downs, and the in-betweens. So when you read this, please remember that it is only a small percentage of the time that I have these feelings. When I'm looking down at the stump where my foot used to be, sometimes it's hard to look towards the future with optimism. It's hard to think about a year down the road, when today all is see is hardships. Not just the hardships of today, but the hardships of tomorrow. Staying positive all of the time is impossible to do. When I think back to just a few months ago, when my future looked so very bright, and I woke up each day looking forward to where it was going to take me, that is when I get the saddest. When this all get

Have you ever had staples put into your body? Not for fun, or for pleasure, but as a tool to help you heal. If you have not, let me tell you this, you are not missing anything. As a result of my right, below the knee amputation, I am all kinds of stapled up. There are thirty seven of them, holding a flap of skin over a place that it was never meant to be. And all of it is protecting bone that is just as cut up as the rest of my right leg. Now if that isn't enough to make a person squeamish, I don't know what is. And to top all of that off, it's now starting to itch, which is a good thing healing wise, but because I am still unable to even touch much below the knee without being disgusted, there will be no scratching. So all of this makes for a good time on the right leg. The left leg is a big concern as well. Because I lost the right foot due to a sore, I am not terrified that the same will happen to the left foot. It has at least one sore before, that I can remember.