Taming of the Shrew

I’ve been working on my left hand for about three months. I underwent surgery to fix broken bones. It has been a slow process. The doctor declared me “healed,” but I don’t feel healed - even though I’m far ahead from the first time the splint was taken off and the brace was put on. At that time, the nurse told me that I should restrict lifting anything heavier than a cup of coffee with my left hand. That seemed so heavy, a cup of coffee! My proud accomplishments were to hold a cup of coffee and tip it to my lips, and to shampoo my hair with my left hand. After the brace was taken out almost two months ago, I could do a lot more, but my left hand still feels injured. I can still feel the restriction of the muscles and tendons that hold things together and allow for smooth and painless movements. I faithfully perform the exercises to strengthen and stretch my fingers and wrist and arm, but my progress has not been a complete success. I come to think of my endeavor as one of “taming of the shrew.” The shrew here is my left hand. I am determined that one day it will yield to me. One day I won’t feel any resistance when I bend it one way or another. One morning when I wake up, I can close my fingers into a fist. One day my many friends will say “I told you so, you’ll be back to normal.” One day I will be able to counsel those who have doubts about their hand injury recoveries. One day I don’t even remember the struggle I had in regaining mobility to my left hand. It will be in the distant past. I don’t know if old age is working against my progress and if determination is enough. But determine I must. I must. I must. The shrew must be tamed.