A month ago, during my weekly softball game, I broke my hand. My right hand. Like the hand I use to sign checks, flip pancakes, brush my teeth and style my afro.
For those who don't know me that well, I'm a list maker. When I have stuff to do, it goes on the list. When it's done, I happily cross it off the list. Sometimes I even complete a task then write it on my list just so I can cross it off.
After surgery, I seriously struggled with being left handed. I wanted to operate like normal, which was impossible so I spent the majority of my time frustrated. I was in pain, unable to cross stuff off my list and it was maddening.
After trying and failing to open a bag of Sun Chips one-handed, I threw myself face down on the couch and screamed into a pillow. Yes, like a three year old. I know, it's just a stupid bag of chips, but that day it was the twentieth thing I attempted and couldn't do. For crying out loud, I just wanted to eat those chips!
