About three-quarters of humans are right-handed. About one-third can't roll their tongues. Some other number can't twitch their ears, and it's nearly impossible for a female to be colour-blind.
This is the kind of pop-quiz crap you memorise in early science classes, and is, not coincidentally, why I severely disappointed one of my parental units by dropping science and math like a hot potato as soon as I could at the tender age of 16.
But I digress. Basically, the past few weeks have been a reminder to me that being ambidextrous would be pretty bloody useful. Not just so's I could fight just as well southpaws (although that would be AWESOME). No, this one is the sort of once-a-decade "be careful what you wish for" event. I've been heard to say I needed to learn to use my left hand better.
So ... I got into a losing grappling match over a practice knife, went down face first, jammed my right (of course) thumb in between the knife and the mat, and then landed on the back of my wrist. Shortly thereafter, I received a black belt, knee-first, between the shoulder blades. Being busy, and flying on adrenaline, I used a word or two and finished up the round.
About fifteen minutes later and getting into someone's body armour, I noticed, presto, that there was an ugly-ass swelling up the back of the bone in the back of my hand that runs wrist to forefinger knuckle. I duly wiggled it, and since everything still responded all right, I finished up the class.
By the time I got home, my husband was threatening me with the ER and I couldn't hold the hand out straight without the thing flopping around as if it had a severe case of very localised palsy. Happily, the shakes went away as the swelling and pretty purple colours blossomed. (I greatly regret not having taken time-lapse pictures of that hand for posterity - I think it went full-spectrum, not to mention the boa-constrictor-just-swallowed-a-cow look.)
It's still got the well-fed constrictor look going three weeks later, although the rainbow's died down. It's also in a splint, so I'm learning the joys of buttoning my pants one-handed. Let's not even mention bra hooks between the shoulder blades. It's going to stay in a splint for at least another month, there may be another round of x-rays next week, and I think I have a singed spot on the top of my head where my physio glared at me when I asked if that meant no training either.
So ... another freaking injury. After I wiped out my right knee in 2008, I finally got it back to about 90% of its original functionality (read: good enough for slightly less than full-contact martial arts) in 2011 and promptly got happily back into martial arts. Now I'm feeling mildly depressed about another injury that spells long-term training break. Not to mention a very, very obvious wing in a sling - it's hard to hide a thumb splint when you can't write or shake hands.
The cat is also still very much in the box as to whether the problem is cracked bones, sprained joints, or (joy) both. The first set of x-rays, encouragingly, said no breaks. However, the x-ray machine looked like a relic of WWII, and it's still nice and swollen, so another round with the cancer rays are in my future if it hasn't quit and desisted by next week.
In other news this week ... our car went in for a service, and the tech crashed it into oncoming. The garage is paying for the repairs, but it's been in the shop for a week. My husband's bank account and credit card got frozen. It's been bringing the drama. And there's only one logical response to drama, which is PITY PARTY. :)