|Photo credit: Medscape Reference|
When we think of our hands, we tend to focus on our fingers and that wonderful opposable thumb we share with other primates. While digits are definitely precious to those of us who work diligently with them -- stitchers, knitters, quilters, writers, typists, painters, sculptors...what have you -- it seems to me that we rarely pay much (if any) attention to our wrists unless we've had a close encounter with carpal tunnel syndrome.
Because I haven't (yet) been a sufferer of "CTS", I haven't thought much about my wrists...until late yesterday, when I got an e-mail from our parish priest. It seems that R, one of our older parishioners, took a fall in our recently slippery weather and broke both her wrists.
That's right. Both of them. One, at least, required surgical repair, which was provided in hospital last evening. I don't know as yet how that turned out.
And there's a bit more to the situation: this woman is a widow and, I believe, lives alone. Very independent and a bit aloof, I haven't found her easy to get to know (then again, I am also rather independent, introverted and sometimes seen as aloof, so it's not her fault!)
But I've become engaged by the thought of her wrists, and the complexity of them, and the fact that both have been broken at her older-than-I-am-by-at-least-10-years age, and at least one of them likely has had to be artificially pinned back together, and that she lives alone, and just think of all our wrists enable us to do and what it would be like if both were immobilized at the same time...
Time to count my blessings, watch out for smugness at my own health, and say a humble prayer or two for R's speedy healing, with thanksgiving for the miracle of wrists.
For You created my inmost being;
You knit me together in my mother's womb.
I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made...
- Psalm 139:13-14 a, NIV