The shower has become a place of great solace for me. It is the one place I am allowed to remove the plastic splint that has become my right arm night and day. I have grown more accustomed to the scar on my wrist, and though the sensation of touch still feels foreign, I hold it with an almost reckless abandon, reminding (or deluding) myself that the superficial wound is totally healed.
I went to my old sanctuary today – the basketball courts. I checked out a basketball and started dribbling with my remaining left hand. The sound of the ball hitting the parquet grow more and more furious as I willed my left not only to be as dextrous as my right, but make up for my not having them both.
It is a weird feeling seeing other people shoot the ball and knowing that you can do no such thing. A movement that has always been so much a part of my life deprived from me. No swish of the net.
I pound the ball harder and faster. I am thankful for this journey into dependence and reflection. Of course, deep inside I await the day I remove the splint and hit the courts hard.

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