If I had full use of my hands again, the first thing I would do is hold Evan’s hand. It is impossible to interlace our fingers when mine are so weak and wobbly. I also miss my hands as instruments of creativity. I used to sketch, paint, and even sculpt. I wanted to pursue my pottery, especially raku technique, but I did not make time for that endeavor while I was healthy. Teaching took up most of my time, not that I regret the hours I spent grading papers and planning lessons. I am lucky to have had a career I loved so dearly.
If I had strong fingers, I would sew. I loved sewing aprons for my mom and gifts for family and friends. Of course, the major advantage of strong fingers (in my opinion as a writer) is being able to type. I am grateful for the eye gaze technology that allows me to write without relying on my hands, but I miss the speed of typing, particularly when my ideas are flowing like rapids over jagged rocks, desperate to get out.
I would also learn new skills. Mainly, I would want to learn to play an instrument. I love watching Evan play the guitar, and I think it would be wonderful to accompany him somehow, probably on the piano. The piano was special to my Grandma Rosemary, and I still remember her teaching me a few basic melodies.
I might miss my hands more than my legs. Hands are so quintessentially human. I am isolated from displaying affection when my fingers curl in on themselves like claws. I scramble to find new creative outlets and accept that some art forms are simply lost to me.