I have several blogger "friends" who write a blog every Thursday called "TMI Thursdays," where they share personal, embarassing, and always disgusting stories about themselves and their friends.
Be Warned....this is my TMI Thursday post. It is not for the squemish or faint of heart.
And away we go
My wrist continues to improve on a daily basis. Every day, I can hold more, type longer, and function on a level that is a little closer to normal. Every time I realize I can do something with my right hand that I couldn't do before, I check it off in my brain. Brush my teeth: check. Take the cap off of the milk container: check. Carry an empty glass from the diswasher to the cabinet: check. The list continues to grow, and that makes me very, VERY happy.
There is, however, one action that I consider to be the holy grail of all achievements, the standard upon which all other actions are measured, the key to a life of normalcy:
Wiping my own ass.
Go ahead, laugh. Laugh all you want. Laugh until the tears squeeze out of your big, fat, judgemental eyes. But when you're done laughing, I invite you (ladies) to go to the bathroom, sit down on the toilet (make sure the seat is down), pee 'till your heart's content, and then try to wipe yourself with your left hand.
Now, allow ME to laugh while I watch you turn a typically routine process into an unsanitary urine fest.
HAHAHAH
Okay, now that you've walked a mile in my shoes (or at least taken a trip to the can in them), I'm sure you can totally sympathize with my predicament and understand why wiping my ass with my right hand would be a goal that makes me rest my head in my (recently washed and sanitized) hand, stare off into the distance, and sigh wistfully. Yeah, I used to do that when I was thinking about chocolate or cute shoes. Now I do it when I'm thinking about post-bathroom clean-up. Life is weird.
You see, wiping yourself requires the hand to bend forward from the wrist and twist considerably. Of course, if you want to do a really good job, a certain amount of pressure must be applied as well. My right hand does not possess the ability to bend OR twist to to the position required for proper sanitation. Heck, at this point, I can't even make CONTACT with the aforementioned area, let alone daub it with TP.
Oh, I make out well enought with my left hand. After 4 weeks of this nonesense, I've actually gotten quite good at it. But it's just....how do I put it? Just not the same. For one thing, time and TP are wasted in the process. Now time I have plenty of. But wasting TP makes me cringe. It's not very "green", and I hate to think that trees are being killed at a faster rate because I just wasted the last two gobs of TP missing the mark almost entirely. Plus, I often end up sacrificing my hand in the process, which requires rigorous washing with antibacterial soap, which in turn is making my hands dry and scratchy.
Overall, it's just not a good thing. So I wait.
I do the stretches assigned by my physical therapist and wait for the day when I can bend my wrist at an angle that is ideal for wiping my bottom.
Hey, a girl can dream, can't she?
*puts her head in her (recently sanitized) hand, stares into space wistfully, and sighs
No comments:
Post a Comment