The One-Armed Scientist

I am a predominantly right-handed person. Owing to various theories that left-handeds are more "creative", among other things, I have made some half-hearted attempts to be ambidextrous. As the short instances of truly horrible handwriting in my Social Studies textbook (boring, and therefore ideal for practice) can attest to, these attempts were largely met with failure.

On the morning of Friday, 23 April 2010, at 11:20 am as described on the incident report, I managed, through a combination of stupidity, carelessness and a V-Slicer, to lose a 5mm-thick chunk of my right thumb. The cleaness of the slice left no material to suture, and so the medical staff who attended to me were rather at a loss as to how to stem the profuse bleeding. A combination of applied pressure, elevation, and an ice pack slowed the blood loss, after which they wrapped the wound in absorbant padding and compressive bandages, a dressing which would hopefully last the long Anzac Day weekend until the medical centre would be open once more. I was released with a well-bandaged thumb, a sling to keep the wound elevated, and an injunction not to get the dressing wet under any circumstances.

The enormity of the situation was readily apparent to me. I had lost the use of my right thumb for an unspecified amount of time - the nature of the wound meant it would take some time to heal - and, by extension, any activities which required the use of a right hand and an opposable thumb. I couldn't write, I couldn't use a knife and a fork at once, getting money out of my wallet was going to be a challenge, cutting something with scissors was clumsy and dangerous. Furthermore, I would once again have to take a break from the lab until I had the use of my pipetting hand once again. It seemed that my PhD would, once again, see a delay.

Or would it?

Humans have an incredible ability to adapt to adversity. I had long held that disability was never an excuse for self-entitlement, there was always a way to survive without expecting too many allowances from others. This was the test.

I strode into the lab. With one hand I pulled on one sleeve, and grabbed the other end of it so it covered the front of my body, sling inclusive, leaving the right sleeve hanging free. I couldn't quite twist around to align the button at the back of the labcoat collar with its buttonhole, so a friend stepped in and did it up for me, and also knotted the ties around the waist. I got a box of gloves a size larger than what I was accustomed to using, and with a bit of twisting and pulling, managed to get it on.

"She's a one-armed scientist!" someone remarked in amusement.

It has begun.