Since yesterday afternoon I have been practicing being a left handed person. After a lifetime of right handedness, I find it rather difficult to switch.
Actually, I’m practicing being a one-handed person. That seems more accurate since I have been instructed by DH not to use that hand and let it heal or get to the hospital to get stitches.(I’m not going.)
I accidentally managed to almost slice off my right hand the other day. (The cut is much deeper and more jagged than the picture shows, and bled profusely for a long time.) There was a situation with a screen door and a lever that stuck and broken glass. And although it’s only affected the side of the hand (below the pinky finger) and I can move my fingers perfectly speedily across this keyboard, I really should not be doing anything strenuous with my right hand.
Lifting a hair brush seems to be about as much activity as my wound can handle without opening back up and causing me to bleed profusely. Earlier I tried to open a pickle jar with my left hand…didn’t work. So I used the fingers on my right hand to hold the jar, and used my arm to try and twist open the cap…I felt a little pull on the top part of the very long and jagged cut on my hand, but I saw no blood, so that was the last time I’m opening a jar.
I do not need an infection, which could happen if I keep doing stuff to open the wound.
Sitting idle is remarkably hard. I had planned on finishing painting my kitchen which I started last week and specifically for this event placed the kidlets into an afternoon sports camp…now I have to sit here and drink tea and eat chocolate instead.
This is not particularly fun.