I saw a story on PBS last week about a young man who was born without his right hand, very similar to me, who is hoping to be the first human to receive a full hand transplant. You can read the story here.
I felt for this young man, his insecurity and frustration in having to adapt to do daily tasks was completely recognizable. I began to think, what if this surgery wasn’t difficult? What if it was a little out patient shindig with little to no complications? Would I want it? Would my 12-year-old-middle-school self want it? I don’t want it and I would tell my 12-year-old self he wouldn’t want it either.
However, I still place my right hand in my pocket when I enter a new location. I am keenly aware of the stares I get on the subway, the awkwardness of shaking hands when I’m introduced to someone. Having my right hand would make certain things easier so why do I not want it?
I believe it comes from my uneasiness of what the doctor in this article says, “I can understand why … this young man would want to have two hands and look like everyone else and be whole”. “Whole”? There is the rub, what can we truly gain or attain that makes us whole? Are we not complete human beings? I believe there are many of us who feel if we attain, accomplish, win, earn, love enough we will be whole. Is that true? Can we ever be whole?
All of us have many differences that make up who we are. We are not all the same, so I wonder what the definition of “whole” could be?
To me, wholeness is not allowing circumstances (whatever they may be) to define our humanity. I walk confidently onto the subway each day; I shake hands with my left hand with a smile and move on! Two hands would never make me whole; my “wholeness” comes from knowing that I am right here and right now in this world and my hand is just one of the many differences that make me who I am.
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