Living Left Handed - Part 1

 

She slipped on ice and broke her right wrist. Being right-handed this posed an entire series of never before considered problems.

The day after the ER visit she bent over to put on Finn’s leash and collar and nearly blacked out from the pain. She stayed bent over, sniffling as tears filled her eyes, trying to breathe, trying to stay calm. Finnegan looked at her.

“Human Woman, are you broken?” he whispered.

She nodded, grasping her splinted arm, determined not to panic in front of him. She knew his anxiety would shoot sky high if she didn’t get a grip on herself.

“Ok, it’s ok.” She panted. “I’ll figure it out. Give me a sec.”

His eyes softened. And then he did something he had never done in his 8 years. He bent his head and carefully picked the leash up in his mouth. He carried it to the front door and turned to look at her.

In a muffled voice he said, “Don’t worry, Mom. I got this.”

She hiccupped on tears. He’d never called her that before. Her heart, deflated by panic and pain, suddenly filled with determination. She wiped her eyes, took a deep breath and reached for the leash again.

“Let’s get this one together, boo bear.” She whispered.

He gently pushed his head between her shins, patiently waiting the full seven minutes it took for her to get his collar buckled on and the leash attached. She no longer wondered why the left hand had been created. Clearly the universe knew she would need it someday. Even if it reacted like an amoeba to the simplest of commands. It waved when she told it to grab a spoon, it flailed when she asked it to hold her toothbrush, and when shown a pen for the first time in its life it played dead.

It balked at the leash and collar but she calmly talked it through each step and waited, time and time again, when it freaked out and dropped everything with the cry of "I can't! I'm not supposed to do hard labor! I'm just here to look pretty!" Eventually, the task was finished and her left hand, giddy with new found capability, tried to high five her right hand. But that turned out not to be such a good idea. 

She smiled as she straightened. With all of her accomplishments, this one felt the best. She could handle this setback. She could take her little buddy outside to potty. She might not be able to use a fork or write with a pen or button her pants left handed without lying down, but she could Walk. Her. Dog.

“You’re gonna rock the poop bag.” Finn teased.

Oh crap. She’d forgotten about that. She opened the door and they stepped out into winter.

“Watch the ice, Human Woman.”

“You’re so not funny, Finn.”

As they walked around the corner, their laughter crackled in the frozen air, warming it. They were going to get through this, one poop bag at a time. She mentally added up just how many poop bags that would take. And then she decided to stop using math for the next ten weeks.

Yes. That was a much better plan.