a one-armed but open-eyed life

Although I've worked with people with disabilities for nearly a decade, I think my understanding of the difficulties of their lives has increased significantly over the past two weeks. Most of my experiences have been with individuals with intellectual or mental disabilities, and my heart goes out to both them as well as people with physical disabilities.

A broken arm is really not comparable to these hardships, but it has put the brakes on in many areas of my life. Nearly everything is more difficult and requires longer periods of time and effort. Getting dressed is a pain, and some days I want to just stay in my pajamas all day. I have managed to come up with a way of putting my contacts in, but it involves a significant amount of frustration. I don't bother with make-up because the one time I tried I discovered it wasn't worth the hassle. Getting Sarah bathed, dressed, and ready for the day often feels like it takes a herculean effort. Normal household tasks are a challenge, although I'm pleased to report I did clean the toilets and bathroom sinks yesterday. My cooking repertoire has decreased significantly. I keep leaving the dishes in the sink just hoping that someone else will wash them. Sometimes this works; other times I have to do it myself. Even the laundry has been mastered (including folding) although at a much slower pace than usual. The one thing I have discovered that I absolutely can not do is put my hair in a ponytail. For those of you who know me, you realize that this is traumatic at the most extreme proportion. Thus this task falls to David (or poor unsuspecting ward members whom I can talk into it if/when I see them). He has been a good sport about it although he did look at me like I was crazy the first time I asked. As he is from a family of all boys, this is an extremely difficult task for him which requires lots of concentration and effort.

Due to all of this, I was feeling sorry for myself this afternoon on the way home on the subway when I saw a blind woman. A man helped her on and told the gentleman sitting next to her to help her off at 125th street. He then told her she needed to go one stop. When we got to 125th street, the gentleman sitting next to her helped her off the train and up the stairs. My eyes were sure opened to how blessed I am even in this small trial in my life.