My Lifelong Fascination With Left-Handedness
When I was a kid, I really, really wanted to be left-handed. I’m not sure where the fascination for this came from, but I do know that my sister is left-handed and I thought it was cool. When I got bored in school (which was often!) I would practice writing with my left hand to entertain myself (yes, I’m easily amused) and I actually got pretty good at it. My mom grew up in Quebec, going to Catholic school and in those days, when she tried to write with her left hand (as was her natural inclination), the nuns would hit her hand with a ruler. Because, you know, it’s a sin to write with one’s left hand, devil child! So she writes with her right hand now, but she was really born a southpaw.
Although my right hand is the dominant one for most things for me (e.g., writing, eating, brushing my teeth), I play sports like a left-handed person (mostly). I play hockey left, bat left, I golf left – but I throw right.
Anyway, for the past two days I’ve had my right hand wrapped up – half because compression is good for the strain and half because it serves as a reminder for me not to lift things with my injured hand. And not at all because it’s good for getting sympathy (I can’t believe you’d even suggest that!) I’ve even moved my mouse to the left side of my keyboard. And, you know what? It sucks. I want my right hand back! I’m so much more efficient with it!