Yeah, yeah, yeah. There are cool things about having a broken arm.
I got to choose construction cone orange for my first cast, and radiation fluorescent green for my second one. I could direct air traffic at LAX with those things. I was kind of hard to miss.
When strangers asked me how I broke my arm, I had fun inventing different outrageous scenarios. I was a stunt woman who experienced a slight mishap leaping off a 3 story building. A zoo-keeper who had an unfortunate run-in with an elephant.
People also asked me, “So, are you right-handed or left handed?” When I replied that I was right-handed, they would comment, “Oh, that’s good.”
Really? Is it really good? Trust me, having a broken arm is a pain, even if it is your non-dominant hand. Your left arm doesn’t just hang around like chopped liver, a useless appendage. It actually contributes something. I like having both my hands!
When I finally had my cast removed after 8 weeks, I thought I’d be cured. Healed. Happy as a lark and free at last to go about my daily activities. Instead, I burst into tears.
“B-b-b-but it still hurts!” I cried, looking down at the big purple bruise that still glistened on my newly exposed skin. I was in complete and utter shock. The doctor assured me that in time, my hand would be back to normal. I wore a splint for a few weeks to transition into full wrist movement and rotation.
Gradually, over the past couple of months, my hand has made a complete recovery. The good news is that during the time my left arm was out of commission, so was my injured elbow. Now, with renewed appreciation, I’m ready to start working with clay again.
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