Prompt: Describe a time when uncertainty led to something good.
I’m hoping that the surgery required to fix my broken wrist is going to lead to something good. In a moment, everything in my life was quickly reprioritized. All of a sudden, what I’m capable of had a limit set on it. Looking forward, I have no idea what I’ll be able to do and to what extent.
Let me back up a bit. A few weeks ago, on the Monday after March Break, I decided to start riding my bike to work again. My propensity to sweat is mitigated through the use of an e-bike. Before leaving for the day, I promised myself that I would take it easy, going no higher than level five of the available nine. In an effort to live more intentionally – my pursuit of “slow living” – I decided to start enjoying my commute to work instead of trying to get it over with.
As I was coming up to an intersection, the crossing guard pressed the button, setting the lights flashing, and started walking out, with her stop sign outstretched. An septuagenarian, by my guessing. I hit the brakes.
The front brakes must have seized because the front wheel stopped turning and I was sent flying over the handle bars. I landed on the asphalt. My right hand hit the ground hard.
I got up, picked my earbud up off the road, and then went to lift my e-bike onto the sidewalk. When I had trouble lifting the bike because of the pain, I knew I’d hurt myself. Hoping it was just a bad sprain, I sorted myself out and continued on.
Several blocks later, the chain fell off the sprocket and my bike stopped suddenly again. This time, I didn’t fall, despite my shoelace getting tangled in the gears. When I could barely tug the chain loose for the pain, I thought I’d done something more serious to my hand.
I continued on to work, and texted Hannah when I arrived. She told me that she was coming to pick me up to take me to the doctor’s. I went and told my principal that I needed to go to the doctor’s. Without the use of my right hand, I managed to put some plans together for a supply teacher.
From my family doctor, to the emergency, to the hand specialist I went. The x-rays didn’t reveal any damage, but none of the doctors were convinced it was nothing, each telling me that this bone, the scaphoid, often doesn’t present well in x-rays. I had to wait a for a couple of weeks before they’d be able to tell for sure.
Sure enough, when I went back, the x-rays, again, showed nothing, but the hand specialist had a gut feeling something more was wrong and sent me for a CT scan. The scan revealed a displaced fracture, requiring surgery to correct.
So, here I am, with limited use of my right hand, already crestfallen, looking at at least two more months of even further restricted use of my hand. ChatGPT says that I’ll be able to do very little of what I currently do. No woodworking, for sure. The pen rests that require sanding will have to wait. Writing is an awful experience. Typing is okay but not for long periods. Cooking feels dangerous when I’m cutting with a chef’s knife in my left hand. Bathing Emi is out of the question.
More than anything, how little I’m able to do with Emi is the hardest to accept. Bath time was our time together every evening. Picking her up and putting her down is tricky. Holding her during those middle of the night feeds is strenuous.
I’m hoping that I’ll be able to recognize the good that will come out of this situation. Perhaps it’s an opportunity to actually slow right down, something I wouldn’t have done for myself otherwise. Maybe it’s a good time to work with my head more than my hands, whatever that might look like. I have to stay sharp, despite the lack of sleep, so as not to miss the signs posted on the side of the road I’m journeying down.
Find more writing prompts at Letters’ Lounge.
Leave a Reply