"Trigger Finger"

  

            Over the last couple of weeks, my ring finger on my left hand developed a horrible, and painful, tendency to pull down at the joint and stay stuck in this position. A quick Google search let me know I suffered from “trigger finger.” The first step to treat this malady depends on resting the finger through splinting it, and dosing up with Advil to reduce swelling.

            Obviously, this ailment curtailed my ability to write—either by hand or computer. When I attempted to type, the one finger or one hand approach frustrated me tremendously. I decided to utilize my time off from writing by feeding my addiction to Fringe until I watched the final episode. The stack of novels on my bedside table dwindled as I waited for my finger to recover.

            Yesterday, I removed the splint because I simply couldn’t cook with it on. Although the finger hasn’t reached total recovery, I believe I will now be able to spend small amounts of time back with my spiral and pen or on the keyboard.

            I grin as I press each word onto the page. Writing daily means so much to me, and to go ten days without journaling made me feel lost and a little depressed. I found out that exercising my skills as a writer leaves me calmer throughout the day.

            Funny how easy it is to take for granted the little joys of life. I never thought about how important scribbling my thoughts across the page had become until I’d lost my ability to write. Although my finger hasn’t reached full recovery, it has triggered a new need in me to luxuriate in the time I now have to devote to my craft.   

 

Copyright 2013 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“Trigger Finger”

 

            Over the last couple of weeks, my ring finger on my left hand developed a horrible, and painful, tendency to pull down at the joint and stay stuck in this position. A quick Google search let me know I suffered from “trigger finger.” The first step to treat this malady depends on resting the finger through splinting it, and dosing up with Advil to reduce swelling.

            Obviously, this ailment curtailed my ability to write—either by hand or computer. When I attempted to type, the one finger or one hand approach frustrated me tremendously. I decided to utilize my time off from writing by feeding my addiction to Fringe until I watched the final episode. The stack of novels on my bedside table dwindled as I waited for my finger to recover.

            Yesterday, I removed the splint because I simply couldn’t cook with it on. Although the finger hasn’t reached total recovery, I believe I will now be able to spend small amounts of time back with my spiral and pen or on the keyboard.

            I grin as I press each word onto the page. Writing daily means so much to me, and to go ten days without journaling made me feel lost and a little depressed. I found out that exercising my skills as a writer leaves me calmer throughout the day.

            Funny how easy it is to take for granted the little joys of life. I never thought about how important scribbling my thoughts across the page had become until I’d lost my ability to write. Although my finger hasn’t reached full recovery, it has triggered a new need in me to luxuriate in the time I now have to devote to my craft.   

 

Copyright 2013 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“Fringe Fanatic”

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Netflix became my major resource for finding a variety of television shows for my mother during the eighteen months we spent together. Huntington’s disease didn’t affect my mother’s sense of humor, and it didn’t take away her deductive and inductive reasoning when it came to analyzing the news or following a crime show. That meant we could view an assortment of television shows and movies as a way of filling our days. Eventually, we remembered our love for The X-Files, and together we watched every episode. The science fiction/horror/detective/comedy mixture appealed to both of us, and we allocated two hours a day to watching the show until we viewed the final film.

Over the last couple of months, I’ve slipped back into the daily routine of keeping my afternoons open for reading or television. The beginning of the summer found me outside, swinging in my tree, as I read whatever novel caught my fancy. Then I discovered Fringe. One of my Facebook friends mentioned the show casually in a status, advising me that I’d love the program. I lodged the title into the back of my brain, but didn’t go out of my way to find or watch an episode until a couple of weeks ago.



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Every morning, I hastily rush through my chores (the house requires less and less daily maintenance as I hack away at deep cleaning projects). Then I dash to the gym for aerobics and weights. After I get cleaned up, I hop into the car to run errands. Usually by three o’clock each afternoon, I settle on the couch with my favorite blanket, both dogs, some fruit and iced tea. With controller in hand, I switch on the television to my newest passion that mixes science fiction with horror as The Fringe Division investigates whatever fantasy J.J. Abrams and his crew of writers can imagine.

Every day, I think of how much my mother would have delighted in the “mad” scientist and his quirky personality. She would have sat with me to watch these characters evolve as they maneuver through bizarre situations, offering her astute conclusions on what’s to come next.

I find it reassuring that I can spend my days viewing a television show that reminds me of my mother without feeling overwhelmed by loss. I still don’t turn on Mom’s favorites (Law and Order, or Everybody Loves Raymond), but I can discover something new that she would have loved, and I catch myself wondering about the quips she would have made during an episode. I miss her comments and insights; but when I surprise myself by thinking, “Mom would’ve loved the plot on this episode,” I don’t feel sadness.

The littlest things let me know that grief slowly shifts into the background. Turning into a Fringe fanatic actually means I’m fine!



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Copyright 2013 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman