Opinion | On the One Hand, There’s a Pandemic . . .

Staring at my rigid and deformed left thumb and the apple I wish I could slice, I remind myself to be patient. Slicing, opening jars, and buttoning clothes will have to wait, like dinner parties, live theater and my daughter’s field-hockey games. If all goes well, my functional left thumb and the Covid vaccine will be available by summer.

One morning in January 2019, after dropping my daughter at school in New York City, I was struck by a large SUV and sent flying onto the pavement. The result was a severely broken left forearm, cuts, bruises and a damaged left thumb joint.

The driver hit the brakes on impact. I try not to think about the injuries I might have suffered otherwise. But the trauma still flashes in my brain every time I step off a curb or see a speeding car.

After months of unsuccessful physical therapy and the strain of the pandemic, this fall my husband, our daughter and I moved to a Washington suburb. Stable enough at last, I scheduled surgery for my thumb.

It was logical. The perfect time to repair my thumb was now while we’re isolated with nowhere to go. Thankfully, my husband and daughter have been at home with me. Otherwise, they’d be at work or school and I’d be stuck alone elevating my immobilized left hand as I watched cooking and craft shows and vicariously lived my old life.

Originally published at https://www.wsj.com on December 13, 2020.