In many ways’ life had prepared me to ready and deal with Life One-Handed. There were subtle signs when I was about sixteen and on nightly coffee/tea duty for the family. I couldn’t carry two mugs at once without spilling the left one. I didn’t have to carry it for 6-7 metres from the kitchen to the lounge, but spill it, I did.
Mum would watch me coming and say “Drop you left shoulder” had nothing to do with it really, but life went on. But there were those signs that screamed DO NOT WORK IN HOSPITALITY and occasionally, at work (I was a checkout chick at the Super Cheap Supermarket, so cheap they no longer exist) they put me on the left-handed checkout. No idea why, but there you go.
But until my diagnosis, when I was thirty-four, everything I did kinda moulded me to be very efficient with my time and energy.
These days, I leave the house just in time for lunch (by normal people standards) and I’ve made calls, done internet banking and gotten it “ALL” together.
Wednesday’s are a perfect example. I scooter to my last appointment, which is local to home (weather permitting), walk a small block to rendezvous with Young John. (I negotiate with him over breakfast exactly what time he can squeeze me in)
On the way, I dropped a doona into the dry cleaners to be pressed ($6.00) Young John scoops me up and drops me down to Clifton Hill.
Today, I had to start at the Post Office to pay a few bills, I crossed to my favourite lunch location. Note; I do not mention it by name. Yeah, that’s on purpose. I have a few Melbourne followers these days and it’s sometimes hard enough to get a table and I do love the way they greet me by name when I arrive and when I depart. I mean, that’s what you get by being a regular. Right! Anyway, I take photos of lunch finalise my Wednesday lunch post and email to Noelle.
Generally, I inhale lunch and my medicine (Latte) and maybe write a post.
Off I hobble to my chiropractor and if I’m early I will make a few calls, cull some emails, reach out to some friends as part of my “Good Mental Health Day” regime.
I see my chiro, then bolt for the tram, often texting whatever on the way. I arrive at acupuncturist get stabbed, eight times, have a little kip (that a bit British for a nap) then scooter home. Often stopping at a few local suppliers on the way.
Check the letter box, without getting off my scooter and picking up an empty box from the supermarket for recycling. (I’m a bit green, you see) The box also comes in handy to get things upstairs from the scooter shed to my apartment. I’ve even worked out a way to (once in the lift) put the box on top of the hand rail, put my leg against it so it won’t fall, using my ONE GOOD HAND, swipe my card and push the button.
Once out of the lift and at my apartment door, I use the same technique to hold the box against the wall while I open the door. Putting whatever I’m carrying on the floor can be very stressful on my lower back and that’s the last thing I need.
So, efficiency is the key.