Friday, February 04, 2011

The one-armed man

So far, about half my time today has been spent employing the backspace key. I am not a ten-finger typist anyway, but apparently one or both of the fingers that are splinted are pretty critical to the process. Also, the damned splint keeps hitting keys on its own.

I know it's a small injury as these things go, but the shock of seeing a part of my body in such an unholy position continues to haunt me. I mean, that's like Exorcist time. Or Black Swan.

I physically shudder every time that image pops into my head. I can't imagine how I'd fare on a vast scale, like war, or EMT work, where you're seeing bodies mutilated and ripped apart.

Apart from all that, my hair's a wreck. That is definitely something I need 10 fingers for, apparently. And I showered with some big plastic contraption big enough to cover a leg cast. Awkward.

Other than that, I'm not reaping a ton of benefit from this thing. Nobody's jumping out of the handicap seat on the bus and offering it to me. The tea place didn't comp me. My agent noticed, and that was nice. Still, some sort of government subsidy or tax break would be cool.

Strange who didn't notice -- the people in an audition today. It was for a casino -- I guess as long as my dice-rolling hand is okay it's no big deal.

Okay, I'm off to buy a single left mitten if I can ...

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