An Orange Frisbee

I was cleaning my closet and found an orange Frisbee from TUFW. Out of all of the things I found cleaning my closet, this cheap piece of plastic didn’t seem like much, but it brought me to tears. Not so much the toy, but the memories attached to the toy.
See, I got this frisbee on September 27, 2008. The day is about as important as an orange frisbee to others, but for me it was my last day of freedom. It was a pretty typical day, in fact, I don’t remember much, except that we had some sort special dinner where we got free frisbees. My friends and I took them out to a central, grassy area of campus and began to toss them around. It was fun, but not anything significant – yet.
The next day started out normal, I went to church, went to lunch, then spent the afternoon studying for an upcoming biology test. Then something happened that changed my life. I stood up, pushed off of my desk with my left arm and my arm exploded.
Three months later (which was exactly 2 years ago today), I was coming out of surgery, with the hopes that the numbness and tingling and pain that had persisted in my hand would finally subside. Sure, there would initially be increased pain from surgery, but that would subside and I could go on with my life.
Not so much, the pain continues today, limiting my activities. I’ve done fun stuff since then and have actually accomplished far more than I ever thought when I was first diagnosed with CRPS. But tossing that frisbee around the yard was the last thing that I remember doing that was fun that I did without thinking of if it was going to increase my pain, cause my CRPS to spread, or if I could somehow injure my CRPS hand. It was the last time I did a physical activity with my friends without thinking about it as something significant.
Now, heading into a new year with the huge unknown of what is going to happen with my right “good” arm, I’m wondering if December 6 will be remembered as the last day that I could use my right arm. The last day that I could easily do activities with both hands. The last time I could write my name without thinking about it, the last time I could throw something and have it land somewhat close to where I wanted it to go, the last time I did art, the last time that I could open a container.
My life is filled with what ifs…

Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *