Not a good day
May. 30th, 2002 11:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lprovenStarts out looking all right, but I fall victim to one of my mum's occasional "senior moments", as she calls them. She turns on the wrong rings on her electric hob, so while she's wondering why a pan isn't boiling, the stainless steel covers on another are steadily heating... until I try to lift them off.
[SizzleHOWL]
Nasty burns along right thumb, index, middle and ring fingers. Even with emollients and dressings, after a couple of hours they still hurt like hell. It seems to me that, since that's my throttle hand, there won't be any more bike-riding this holiday - which means that, since it's a motorcycling trip, it's functionally over. I am not happy.
Instead, I spend the morning reading and the afternoon laboriously cleaning the trike one-handed, to K's great amusement. (At the fiddliness of the detail work, since I've washed it already, I hasten to add. Not at the one-handedness - I'm used to working with no usable right hand. That arm has been badly shattered twice now, is still weak and has restricted movement. I've been without its use for approaching two of my 34 years. Since I'm left-handed anyway, it's not a major problem. Most things can be done one-handed anyway, once you know the tricks; my mate John, who lost the use of his right arm in a bike smash nearly 20 years ago, taught me some of them. Little is impossible; some surprising ones are hard.
She wishes to take a photo of me lying on the drive scrubbing the exhaust pipes - I can't in conscience call them "silencers" - with an old toothbrush, but she's too slow finding her camera.
[SizzleHOWL]
Nasty burns along right thumb, index, middle and ring fingers. Even with emollients and dressings, after a couple of hours they still hurt like hell. It seems to me that, since that's my throttle hand, there won't be any more bike-riding this holiday - which means that, since it's a motorcycling trip, it's functionally over. I am not happy.
Instead, I spend the morning reading and the afternoon laboriously cleaning the trike one-handed, to K's great amusement. (At the fiddliness of the detail work, since I've washed it already, I hasten to add. Not at the one-handedness - I'm used to working with no usable right hand. That arm has been badly shattered twice now, is still weak and has restricted movement. I've been without its use for approaching two of my 34 years. Since I'm left-handed anyway, it's not a major problem. Most things can be done one-handed anyway, once you know the tricks; my mate John, who lost the use of his right arm in a bike smash nearly 20 years ago, taught me some of them. Little is impossible; some surprising ones are hard.
She wishes to take a photo of me lying on the drive scrubbing the exhaust pipes - I can't in conscience call them "silencers" - with an old toothbrush, but she's too slow finding her camera.
