Walk in the Park

“Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit sniffing glue.”  I’ve been saying that to myself, under my breath, for the past week. It’s one of my favorite quotes from the movie Airplane and is totally apropos of the past seven days.  The big girl was sick, then I was sick, then I thought the little one had an ear infection, yada yada yada. This morning I slammed my hand in a mother fucking door.
Luckily, I didn’t do any serious damage, but for a second I thought I had broken the middle knuckle and the bones running down from there atop my hand.  In the moments before I mustered up the courage to try to make a fist and assess what damage I had done, everything I had to do flashed before my eyes. How was I going to do the big girl’s hair for school?  How was I going to make her lunch?  How was I going to wrangle the little one in her jacket? How was I going to have an IV in my hand for my surgery?  Yes, I jumped ahead a little too much.  Other than some residual pain (which I will bitch and moan about to my husband and ask him to do lots of things for me “because I’m injured”), it’s really fine.
This weekend, we watched the newest Spider Man movie (my review: eh, ok, not “amazing”). The antagonist had lost his right arm.  After watching the film and hurting my hand this morning, it made me think about all those people in real life who have had to learn to compensate for body parts they no longer have.  There are so many amazing stories of individuals who have overcome such obstacles in extraordinary ways: the young surfer girl who survived and then thrived after a shark attack, the Olympic athlete who ran with artificial legs (we don’t have to discuss his legal troubles, but I hope he’s innocent), or the soldier who lost limbs in battle and came home to try to lead a normal life.  They are all inspirational and have all shown perseverance in the face of great adversity.  It makes preventatively chopping off my boobs feel like a leisurely stroll in the Jardins de Luxembourg, for crying out loud.

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