The Old Coot has a one-arm
day.
By Merlin Lessler
I’ve thought about doing
this for quite some time. To see if I could get through a day with one arm. My
left one (I’m a righty). Too much time on my hands? Maybe? But, when you’re an
old coot like me, you never know when you will have to adapt to some physical
limitation. So many things can disable your good arm: a fall, a stroke,
arthritis, or just numbing it out for the day by sleeping on it.
Five years ago I decided,
“Today is the day!” Getting dressed was a surprise, not as hard as I expected.
My shirt was on and buttoned in less than a minute. Pants were another matter.
I couldn’t get them on and buttoned until I lay down on the floor. I was off to
a good start. Then, I cheated; I slipped into a pair of loafers instead of
shoes that needed to be tied. I stuck my right hand in my pocket and set out to
face the day with one arm. “Call me Lefty!”
I’ve done a few things
left-handed over the years. The Sunday Times crossword puzzle for example. It
takes longer, but I can eventually fill in the letters in readable fashion.
It’s a hard puzzle so I have a lot of spaces I don’t have to fill in. I also try
to eat European style every once in a while, with a fork in my left hand, the
knife in my right, and no switching back and forth. I usually make out all
right, except when I stab my lip with the fork. I thought my experiment was
going reasonably well until I nearly put my eye out brushing my teeth. I didn’t
fare much better splashing water on my face and combing my hair, but that’s not
a problem for an old coot. People don’t expect much when it comes to my
appearance. Breakfast was a breeze; I didn’t end up with any more milk and
cereal clinging to my shirt than normal. I did have a problem buttering a piece
of toast; it kept skidding off the plate.
Then, I decided to take a
bike ride. I do that one-handed all the
time. That’s when my one-armed day came to an end. I squeezed the left brake
handle in a panic and nearly flew over the handlebars. The left hand brake
lever connects to the front brake. You should never use just the front brake
for a sudden stop. My one arm day had some success, which came in handy last
year when Mister Arthur-itis came for a visit to my right hand last year,
limiting my gripping power.
And then, just the other
day, I got my hand back. It rolled into town and said, “Did you miss me?” I
sure did. No more wearing a thick, cotton gardening glove to play golf. And
even with the glove it was difficult to hang on tight, sending some of my shots
into the wilds. But then I had an excuse for my errant drives and record high
scores. I looked like an idiot with that big mitt on my hand when I stepped up
to the tee to drive. But it’s an image I’m used to and have become comfortable
with. Anyhow, “Welcome home Old Righty; It’s so nice to have you back!”
No comments:
Post a Comment