Livin’ La Vida Lefty

I screwed up my arm at work.  After soldiering on for weeks like some kind of optimistic martyr, I finally got the diagnosis and a very quick surgery date.  The nice thing about the surgery being scheduled so suddenly was that it barely gave me time to convince myself that I would die on the operating table, or slip into a coma and wake up to find the world overrun with zombies with no sign of my wife or best friend Shane (Please excuse the Walking Dead reference, there won’t be any more, I promise).

If you’ve been under general anesthesia and never considered the liklihood that you’d wake up weeks later to a world filled with flesh eating ghouls, maybe you’ll consider the possibility next time. (Image from dailymotion dot com)

In any case, the surgical repair of my distal bicep rupture has left me down a hand for the summer.  My right arm has turned into an aching, worthless piece of  luggage filled with mismatched socks and tightey whiteys with the elastic shot out.  Much as I’d like to abandon it on the baggage carousel, I’m sure I’ll need it eventually.

No need to tie ribbons on the handle to recognize this beast at the luggage claim, and no, it won’t fit in the overhead compartment. (Image from community dot autoclubsouth dot aaa dot com)

I managed to avoid wasting precious pre-surgical time fretting about my potential adverse reactions to anesthesia by scrambling to get as many two handed jobs done around the house as possible.  I moved a bunch of furniture, fixed some drywall, caulked the tub and cleaned out the gutters (Handymen and -women might point out that caulking a tub is a job which can be done one handed, but in my case, I can barely manage it with two hands and 3 or 4 rolls of paper towels).

Caulk gun, you are my nemesis! I smite thee and thy wretched tubes of goo. (Image from ehow dot com)

Luckily the surgery date was so soon that I was spared cleaning out the basement or alphabetizing the garage.

The novelty of my one-handed reality wore off nearly as rapidly as the pain meds.  I quickly discovered that nearly every pair of shorts I own have drawstrings.  I also realized that my selection of slip-on shoes is severely limited.  There’s a possibility that I could tie a bow one handed, but it would not likely be a very good one, and could take hours.

I realize that most six year olds can ties their shoes, but to be fair, the vast majority of them have two hands and an abundance of unused brain cells. (Image from efficientlifeskills dot com)

Brushing my teeth is not difficult, and floss sticks work great one handed.  The rest of my bathroom activities however, are more of an adventure.  In the spirit of discretion, I’ll spare you gentle readers any specifics (Unless you read the caption for the photo below).

I explained to my wife, who should already know me better than this, that I draw left handed, but do athletic things right handed. After she stopped laughing, she demanded to know how I could classify wiping my ass as an athletic feat. (Image from en dot wikipedia dot org

For the time being, I’m still in the ace-wrap, rigid splint and sling ensemble I wore as I left the surgery center.  Fashion critics agree the basic little black sling is accented perfectly with the ecru bandage – it’s  elegant without being pretentious.  Soon, I go back for the dressing change and possible wardrobe upgrade.  I’m tingling with anticipation, or maybe it’s just nerve damage.