I've been consumed by this bothersome injury of mine. It is very uncomfortable and at times painful and yet a is proving to be a valuable lesson in patients. I imagine there to be a stat bar hanging above my head, as if I am an avatar in the game of life and with each blunder I make it fills a little more, strengthening my character.
I was clumbsily shoveling the last of a delicious chicken and rice dinner into my face the other night at dinner with my parents, when it happend. As I struggled to scrape the last grains of rice on to my fork, I happened to look over at my mom who was using the fingers of her left hand to push the last of her food on to the fork held in her right hand. It really made me want to hug her. How lucky and fortunate she is to have two healthy arms. I sat there staring at my family eat without the slightest thought given to how they were effortlessly minipulating thier limbs and digits and how smooth and invisible the joys of life are.
Another thing I can't help but notice is that people are curious about injured people and sympothetic and kind, perhaps for the very reason I have stated, that it makes the invisible blessings visible. Everywhere I go people ask me to tell them the story of my arm and then share with me tales of their own injury. It seems as though just about everyone has had thier bones crushed, stapled together, fractured, their skin ripped, burned, or sewn closed up again. These people's stat bars are full indeed. It makes me wonder, without modern medicine, how many limbless people would be rolling around in wheel chairs or wearing hooks where there hands should be?
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