Left
By cromlix
- 362 reads
It could be worse they said. At least it was
your left side, your speech is not affected,
just some paralysis on the left, with therapy
we can build on that.
I looked around the ward at my glum
compatriots, their downturned, lopsided
mouths, and wondered if the consultant was
talking to me, to them or to the trainee
doctors that swarmed my bed like novice
bees. I attempted a nod.
He continued without a glance in my direction.
"...But the damage to the left hand, well...
that could be permanent, I?m afraid. Still it?s
not the end of the world. The right one is fully
operational, not a trace of nerve damage."
What they didn?t realise, and hadn?t bothered
to take the time to find out, was my
overwhelming preference for my left hand.
I picked my nose with my left hand, lifted my
coffee cup with it, brushed my teeth with it. In
short , my left hand was my life and now it
had gone. It hung limp at my side, lifeless,
disconnected; no longer a part of me.
The consultant smiled, took a pen from his left
inside pocket, and signed my discharge
papers.
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