Showing posts with label injured. Show all posts
Showing posts with label injured. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Hey, Yogi... just call me Booboo!

I've got an owie.  Actually, I've got many owies all over my body.  I had an out-of-body experience tonight.  I don't know for sure where my brain went, but it obviously wasn't here, looking out for me!  I went to a place that I've been to many times and fell over the sidewalk.  I thought I was on the ramp, but I thought wrong!  Now, I have a very tender toe, an aching ankle, a knobby knee...  My hands and wrists hurt so bad, it's hard to type this.  The impact jammed my elbows.  Concrete gets harder as I get older.

There have been times in my life that I had a physically demanding job.  I often wondered how long I could work like that.  What if I became injured?  How could I do my job?  I guess it was a positive thing that I didn't take my health for granted.

I don't take my brain for granted either.  I am thankful for the talent (not proven yet) that God gifted me.  But I have been negligent...  I've taken for granted my ability to move my hands... to type.

I never thought that being a writer was something that I needed to be healthy to do successfully.  I did worry that my arthritis might someday become a hindrance.  So far, the effects of arthritis have been very slow and gradual, with anti-inflammatories keeping it in check.  But I never worried about an accident interfering with my ability to write.  Oh, how I wish not to take my hands for granted.

Hands are incredible tools.  I'm not saying that without them, one could not be a writer; but it would certainly be more difficult.  In writing this post, I am reminded of a blog post I wrote in March.  In fact, it was the last post I wrote on my MySpace blog, before I packed up and moved here.  Perhaps I'll repost it on my essays blog someday.  Here is the last part of the post:

It dawned on me that the hand that applied pressure against the wound of the seventy-seven year-old woman in the floor was now the hand that cradled and comforted the four-year-old with the fever.  I stopped typing just now to gaze at that hand... that hand I take for granted every day.  It's remarkable.  My God is so amazing!