Today’s blog post is about…the joy of getting back to what I had previously taken for granted, and will never do so again.
(Yay, I can type with two hands again!!)
|Pretty Purple Cast|
In my case, it happened on ice. Mid-fall, I experienced a cartoon-like “banana-peel” moment when I was suspended in mid-air and it seemed like time slowed and then stopped. With dread, I knew that when I finally landed, the results were not going to be good.
My wrist was crooked in a way that no limb should bend. It required a trip to the emergency room, an anesthesia shot from a humongous needle, and doctor-manipulations using a medieval torture device designed to straighten out the break.
The pain was excruciating. Worse, once the swelling went down enough that my fingers could somewhat gingerly move, I was dismayed to learn that normal typing was all but impossible. Besides being clumsy and slow, the edge of the cast sometimes hit the “ctrl” key, causing all sort of weird and scary things to happen to the manuscript. (Black screens, disappearing documents…it was a writer’s worst nightmare.)After an initial period of despair, I ended up finding comfort in deciding that the best thing to do was to have patience and let the healing...and the writing progress...happen on its own time. Specifically, I needed to count my blessings. With every setback, there are always small graces to be thankful for, right?
Such as, I could still write in longhand because my dominant hand was not affected. And, eventually the wrist will regain close to its normal mobility—it’s not as if this accident is a permanent setback. Also, there were good things about needing help with my daily activities. For one thing, while I waited for the cast to come off, I got to experience the romance of my husband washing my hair for me. (And cooking our meals, too. And doing the housework. I’m not the only one who thinks that men doing housework is sexy, am I?)
Plus, how often does a team of strangers come together to help you, some under miraculous conditions?An actual Good Samaritan—a lady I didn’t know—volunteered to drive me, in my car, to a hospital emergency room, at a time when I was alone and located over two hours away from home in unfamiliar territory. Then, once in the emergency room, there were workers who helped me figure out how to *get* home. And I can’t forget the research gained from the hero-worthy Orthopedic Surgeons (great material—definitely to be used in some later story!)
|THE SWEETEST HOURS|
THE SWEETEST HOURS is in stores this month (yay!). I’m giving away a copy this Saturday, chosen at random from commenters in the comments section. Thanks for reading! J
Cathryn Parry writes Superromances from her home in New England. Her website is at www.CathrynParry.com.