I am not a trooper


This stack of dishes almost brought me to tears this morning. You see, I was going to make Malt-o-Meal for breakfast, and I needed one of the big bowls so it didn't boil over in the microwave. Normally, this isn't a problem, but getting that bowl has become a tricky operation now that I'm down to one hand (and the left one, at that!).

After my fall Sunday and surgery Thursday, I've been in a lot of pain, and my right hand is even less usable than when it was first dislocated. So getting my bowl required a series of left-handed grabs of the upper bowls. I almost just skipped breakfast.

I like to think of myself as fairly tough, and this just shows me how false that image is. Far from the coal being turned to diamond, a little pressure and inconvenience is cracking me. And I have people around me struggling with far bigger problems--my best friend's father who is fighting cancer, my nephew who is recovering from serious injuries sustained in combat--to remind me just how lucky I am.

SO...rather than feel sorry for myself over a temporary inconvenience, I'm going to try and appreciate how lucky I am...and celebrate all the things I can now do with my left hand: put in and take out my contacts, semi-successfully use a fork, shower, text, and bandage my right hand. I'm also thankful that my sister-in-law just got me into running...because it looks like I'm off my bike for the next six weeks.


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