Yesterday I ate lunch with a pair of chopsticks and nearly wept with joy.

No, my spicy chicken bowl was not that good, rather I was overjoyed at the act of getting to use my right hand once again. For the past 8 days, since taking a tumble off my motorcycle, they have had my arm in a sling. My trusty right appendage, bound tight to my body. Hand resting uselessly along my left side.

Today my new specialist, thanks again to Mistress Matisse for working her vast network of spies and informants to score me a referral to one of the best shoulder guys in the country, upgraded my meager sling and replaced it with a new, high tech “figure 8” brace. While not quite a miracle cure, it gave me the use of my arm back.

You have no idea how good that moment felt.

Before I was dreading having to spend another 5 plus weeks one handed. Forced to not do even simple things like type with out pain and frustration, cut off from using the tools of my trade. My hands, the things that make me money, that allow me to share my stories, and that let me caress my lover’s form. This, this was a depressing outlook for me. I described it like cutting a Jedi off from the Force (we are talking old school “force” here, not this new microscopic organism BS). I’ve said it before, I experience my world through touch, to deny this was almost more painful than the shattered bits of collar bone grating away in my shoulder like so much ground glass.

While movement is still limited - it will be a few more weeks before I can move my elbow much more than a few inches away from my side, I can however move my forearm and hand. The new brace reduces the pain a great deal, but there are still moments when I have to grit my teeth and breathe through the sudden jolt of pain. These too will pass with time. I have a bruise that runs from the top of my shoulder down my right side that is a lovely shade of yellow and the bone is still very broken. If I am lucky I may be able to get in 4 hours at the Abbey before running out of steam. Again, this too will improve with time.

However as with all things, recovery is a process that takes time and the small victories must be celebrated.