Missing an old hobby

I’ll admit it — there are some things I’ve conceded that I can’t do with one hand.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve at least given it thought and/or tried it at least once, but there are some activities that simply aren’t worth the hassle or pain, like bench pressing or playing softball.

The problem is, with all of these things I know what it’s like to be able to do it. I bench pressed while training for sports in high school and recreationally played softball in the past. It’s like giving candy to kid, allowing the kid to taste the sweet treat and then taking it away forever because the kid is allergic. Meanwhile, that child has to go through life watching everyone else eat that candy.

I shouldn’t be bitter about it, because if I cared enough I’m sure I could be creative and find a way to do some of few things I’ve resigned to the “I can’t do” list. There’s just been one in particular lately that I really miss — volleyball.

I watched my older sister play when I was younger, joined the team in middle school and played for a couple years in high school.

With my “I can do anything” stubborn attitude, I tried playing beach volleyball with some friends after the accident. This was years ago, so I don’t remember all of the details but I know I was in pain. My left arm is just long enough that I tried to bump the ball as usual, assuming volleyball would still be a pretty easy sport for me to play.

Unfortunately, the impact of the ball on my arm is too much pressure for it since the amputation. My nerves are too sensitive. Without a way to bump or set the ball — two of the three main steps in a volleyball play — I’ve kept myself on the sidelines ever since.

I bring this up now because I’ve recently watched my boyfriend and his law school friends play beach volleyball, and it really tempts me to try again. I constantly keep myself in the mindset of figuring out how to adjust to doing regular activities with one hand and being confident that I can do it. Reversing and stopping that thought process isn’t easy.

I sat in the grass watching the ball fly back and forth over the net and zoomed my attention in on the players’ motions. I thought to myself, “Maybe if I only played in the front row? How would I serve? Just toss the ball up really high? Maybe I could bump with just my right arm? Would I be able to get the ball in the right spot if I did that?”

I don’t ever want to stop thinking I can do anything, but sometimes it’d be nice if I could turn it off, just for a little bit. It’s like that kid with the candy. Even though he’s allergic and knows he can’t eat it, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t think, “Well, maybe just one bite. Would it be that bad?”