To quote one of the quintessential songs of the ’80s, “[you] Don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone.” Oh, so true. Adjusting to life without the use of my left arm has become quite a challenge.

Mind you, this isn’t the first time I’ve broken my arm…nor is it the second. No, fractures, emergency rooms, splints & casts are familiar to me, as I managed to break BOTH of my wrists at the same time in eighth grade. While most all normal, everyday functions were difficult if not impossible without help, I was lucky to be young enough to swallow my pubescent pride and let my Mom help me when needed. Now, thousands of miles away from my family and aged 26, getting by as a one-armed person is a bit more cumbersome.

Thus I beseech you to step into my shoes just for a bit.

Let’s start with the daily functions; for instance, typing. This post alone has already taken nearly 20 minutes, as “hunting and pecking” one-handed is both time-consuming and frustrating. Misspellings aplenty, the lack of any shortcut keys and more…annoying. And this is just the beginning.

While I still have on my temporary cast (until next week when the swelling goes down), I can take off the plaster splint and ace bandage and sling to shower. (Granted, the doctor told me not to but he also has yet to give me any effective narcotics so I’m not yet putting a lot of faith in him.) So, gingerly, I embarked on a much-needed shower.

Ever tried to wash your hair one-handed? Not so easy. Normally, I would squeeze the shampoo with the left hand, pouring into the right, then lather with both. Now, one of two options: either pour the shampoo or conditioner directly into the hair (often ending up with a huge glop or nothing at all) or my newest innovation – the masterful knee-squeeze-into-the right hand trick. Barnum & Bailey, this performer needs a venue.

Though I like to think my flexibility comes in handy at times, it is apparently isolated in my legs, as shaving your right armpit with your right hand is an exercise in calisthenics. As is washing your right arm with, well, your right arm. Not so easy by yourself.

My difficulties are temporary; never do I want my meager frustrations to be confused with or compared to the true struggles that people with actual handicaps go through for days, months & years. Still, I can’t help but wonder –

Wouldn’t this be easier if I had a boyfriend?