In Stitches, The Sequel

Well, not really the sequel. I haven’t cut my hand again, if that’s what you’re thinking. In fact, the bandages are off from last week’s incident, and Neal assures me everything is looking good.

All I know is that the tails of the stitches are annoying as they move against the insides of my fingers, I have to be careful to keep the injury clean and dry, and it’s not all that easy to type.

We (Neal) trimmed the stitches so they weren’t quite so long and that helped with the first problem.

Keeping my hand clean and dry is more a matter of adjusting habits and being more aware of how I’m using my hand than any real hardship. (Okay, I confess that not being able to do dishes is a hardship, but it will soon end and I’ll be able to sink both hands down into that wonderful, hot, sudsy water again. Ah, bliss!)

As you might guess, I did very little writing in any form last week and took the weekend off completely. That was quite easy to do, since Neal and I were in charge of an All Church Art & Talent Show Sunday afternoon and spent most of Saturday taking entries and getting set up. I didn’t miss not being able to write so much over the weekend and hoped to get back into the swing of things today.

I was able to type more easily today and for that I am exceedingly grateful to God above, who designed the human body to heal so well and be so resilient.

But I did quickly discover a reduced range of motion in my right hand and, much to my surprise, limited endurance. Who would have expected that in less than a week?

The biggest surprise, though, was the lack of ideas upstairs. Everything shut down as soon as the blood began to flow Wednesday morning. Although I had lots of time to be quiet without the pressure of doing anything, I was completely unable to scare up thoughts of Anderson Baxter, any of the other characters I’ve been chatting with of late, or even make an interesting scene out of what had happened to me. I can usually do at least that much. Personal journal entries were even pretty lean.

That continued today. As I write this article, it’s 7:00 p.m. and the most I’ve done with fiction writing is think about doing it. That’s pretty pitiful, if you ask me. I like to think I can make up paragraphs out of whole cloth and it’s a frustrating to find I can’t.

I have recorded a couple of writing questions and have worked on the synopsis for Anderson Baxter, so I have done a little bit. And maybe that’s what I’ll have to be contented with for the time being. It seems like five physical stitches have closed up more than a one-inch cut between my fingers. It may take a while to get back to normal in all those areas.

So I’m writing what comes to mind and praying for patience. A lot of patience, since I also tend to think if I keep typing, something well happen. It is oh, so difficult to sit quietly and wait for the LORD, so patience is definitely a necessary require in this recovery.