Getting a grip
Left-handed crayon drawings.
Yesterday I went to the ER in Albany, after some days of increasing discomfort in the thumb area. It seems I have torn atendon. Let me tell you something: this is very unfortunate. I am now wearing a freakishly large cast, which immobilizes my wrist completely. There is no way that this is necessary, but the med student who wrapped it was neither an engineer nor a sculptor. Her training did not include aesthetic considerations or functional efficiency, as far as I can tell. There is nothing wrong with my wrist, or the outermost thumb knuckle, for example, but these, too, are now inaccessible, for no good reason that I can see.
I have a sorry attitude. Everything is more difficult. Washing my face, brushing my teeth, pulling on my pants. The newest understatement: I appreciate my right hand. Typing sucks, too, so this entry may not get very far before I have to quit it. Not that I am without the usual deep and thoughtful thoughts about all this, the metaphor of healing, the electrified awareness of each moment, the confrontation with my pride, the force of habit. Et cetera, et cetera. But I will have to get back to you on that.
I will say that one thing which helped a LOT, was coming back from the hospital to a heap of mail from some very loved ones. Thanks, folks, I cried like a tiny little baby. Keep it coming. Mom pretty well got faux-natural snack foods covered, so no need to send any more sugared nuts. (I love them, Mom, I do. And you, too.) But if you are taking requests, I could use the 96 color box of crayons, as my brush painting skills are null and void for 4-6 weeks. I promise that I will not wallow in self pity for the duration.
Karen Faith
c/o CAC Woodside
71 Mill Street
Troy, NY 12180
I have a sorry attitude. Everything is more difficult. Washing my face, brushing my teeth, pulling on my pants. The newest understatement: I appreciate my right hand. Typing sucks, too, so this entry may not get very far before I have to quit it. Not that I am without the usual deep and thoughtful thoughts about all this, the metaphor of healing, the electrified awareness of each moment, the confrontation with my pride, the force of habit. Et cetera, et cetera. But I will have to get back to you on that.
I will say that one thing which helped a LOT, was coming back from the hospital to a heap of mail from some very loved ones. Thanks, folks, I cried like a tiny little baby. Keep it coming. Mom pretty well got faux-natural snack foods covered, so no need to send any more sugared nuts. (I love them, Mom, I do. And you, too.) But if you are taking requests, I could use the 96 color box of crayons, as my brush painting skills are null and void for 4-6 weeks. I promise that I will not wallow in self pity for the duration.
Karen Faith
c/o CAC Woodside
71 Mill Street
Troy, NY 12180
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