One Year of Gratitude — Day 55

I woke up this morning and my hand was tingling. This is pretty common. I had surgery on it years ago. When I woke up, I looked at it and saw something different than I usually see. My scar reminded me of two things:
- I have a limited amount of control.
- I have unlimited power to fight for what I want.
Let me talk about the first bullet point. Twelve years ago I was working in a chemistry lab outside of New Orleans. Yep, I was a lab rat after college. My degree is in Biology. I also have a minor in Chemistry. I have always been a part time musician, too. OK, I will get back to the incident. Let me share the short version. A large glass funnel exploded in my hand at work. It completely severed my flexor tendon. I went straight to surgery. This accident would likely cause the end of my drumming career.
I was having a great time as a freelance musician in New Orleans and surrounding cities at the time. I was working with new people on a routine basis. One night I would be playing top 40 on Bourbon Street. The next I would be playing New Orleans style funk on Frenchmen Street. I got calls to play country, zydeco, blues, classic rock, jazz, and many other styles of music. Gigs would range from the main stage at the House of Blues to dirt floors at local dives. Some shows were amazing. Some were not so memorable. I performed quite well on some, and I completely flopped on others. There was constant opportunity to play. I did not even have the luxury of a set list on many gigs. Just show up, listen and learn the songs on stage. I kid you not. I learned to adapt to whatever the hiring musician/band asked of me. I was in my musical prime, so to speak.
Then one day, all that stopped. I went from playing a couple of nights a week, to not playing at all. My hand surgeon and occupational therapist thought I might never play drums again. There was a lot of associated nerve damage with my injury. Rehab was painful. I had little range of motion in my middle finger. I tried to keep a positive attitude. I missed music. I missed it a lot. Several weeks in, I decided that I was going to play again. I had to play again. Come hell or high water, my days as a musician would continue. So, I went against medical advice and sat down at my drum set. I started playing.
Warning! What I did was risky. I am not recommending that anyone else go against the advice of medical professionals. Back to the story.
The thing I would likely never do again ended up aiding my therapy. My range of motion began to improve. My hand got stronger. So, I started to play more and more. I was reliving the experience of learning how to play drums again. Yes, it was painful at times. The phrase hurts so good works in this situation. I had to readjust the way I held my sticks. I had to play with a looser grip and a lighter touch. I had to limit the amount of time I would play. The thought of re-injuring my hand was a scary proposition. So, I tried to take it easy. About six months later, I was out playing again.
Until this morning, I have not thought much about this scar on my hand. Well, I did believe that it looked a bit like the scar on Harry Potter’s head. Does it not? I digress. Aside from the constant tingling that reminds me to be safe, I did not think it offered much use to me. It was just an ugly memory of an accident that happened long ago.
This morning I woke up thinking about the value of this wound. It serves as a daily reminder to appreciate what I have right now. It is a sign that lets me know everything I have and care about could be gone tomorrow. It also tells me I can do do great things, regardless of the prognosis. I can be as creative as I need to be to make things happen in my life. I can look adversity in the eyes and say, “step aside — I got this.” I am grateful to have this daily reminder. I cannot believe it took me this long to appreciate what it represents.
And that is your gratitude for today.
