I write to you today, dear reader, with a message that is as everlasting as Twinkies and as cliche as a joke about the shelf life of Twinkies. My message to you is to be grateful for what you have. This may all be banal in nature, but the sagacity behind this idea should never be missed.
Just two weeks ago, while riding home from class on my skateboard, I was paying too much attention to a couple walking in front of me. As a student who skates to and from class, I tend to pay more attention to other students walking around than I should have to. As is customary for me, I yelled ahead to them, “On your left!” It’s an idiosyncratic phrase I developed to indicate — obviously — which side I am approaching from behind. Some people hear my skateboard bumps and already choose a side, some hear the bumping noises and continue to walk back and forth on the sidewalk like indecisive drunkards — my signal is for the latter.
Anyway, as is too common, the couple ahead of me heard nothing, so I focused on them to make sure I could make it past them. As I was leaning forward to turn the board, I placed all my weight at the front of it. Unbeknownst to me, there was a crack in the sidewalk large enough to engulf my entire wheel. It stopped my board on a dime as I flew through the air. Unluckily, I decided to prioritize the laptop in my backpack and, in my quick thinking, decided not to roll. The result: a broken left wrist — or so I thought.
At the infirmary, the X-rays were inconclusive in showing what had actually happened to my wrist, but the damaged and tender area, my scaphoid (find it on your wrist if you’re taking anatomy, it’s good practice), had to be treated as if it were, at the very least, fractured. So, for the very first time in my life, I had a cast that entirely restricted the use of my left hand.
For those of you with the full use of two hands, have you ever tried tying your shoes with one hand? Have you ever cooked, washed dishes or attempted to cut a steak with one hand? Do you know what it’s like to type out these words with one hand? Lucky for me, when I’m bored in class, I strike a position — that is terrible for my posture — where I lean all the weight of my head on my left wrist and resort to typing things with one hand. Nevertheless, other things are still hard. I can’t enjoy my favorite sport, basketball, it’s impossible to play a console game and I can’t even work as a server.
For those of you telling me and my privileged self to calm down, you have a point, and, don’t worry, I’m just being dramatic for the flair needed to write in the Alligator. Like I mentioned earlier, the results were inconclusive, and, just yesterday, I got to take off my cast. It’s most likely a bad, grade 2 wrist sprain.
However, in my times of introspection, I tend to think about my experiences in the context of others’ struggles. Of course, I would not dare to compare myself to someone who has lost a limb, but I could understand a drop of water in that specific bucket; this little injury gave me a bit of perspective I wouldn’t have gained otherwise.
Appreciate what you can do before you realize you can’t do it any longer. Appreciate what you have now before it disappears. Take advantage of this advice.
James Hardison is a UF English sophomore. His column appears on Thursdays.