I
reached my destination and grabbed my purse, placing the straps on my shoulder.
Then I got my water bottle and my keys. All these things were on my right side so
that is where they were when I got out of my car.
I
walked into the building and up to a table where we were to sign in and receive
a raffle ticket. Most people would empty their right hand to sign in.
Me?
My
left side and conveniently empty hand was nearest the table. “Oh I’ll just use
my left.”
The
lady passing out raffle tickets said, “Well it’s legible anyway.”
“Of
course. I’m ambi.”
And
that’s not the first time in my life I’ve had to sign left-handed. Once I was
in the ER and they had just stuck an IV in my right hand when one of the staff
members asked me for a signature.
“Can
my husband do it?”
“No.”
“Oh
well, okay.” I sighed the paper left handed.
“This
is perfectly legible.”
“I
know. I’m ambi.”
I’ve heard of people who were ambidextrous,
including one president, but I’ve never met any others.
Okay,
technically, I’m the mirror of right handed Bonnie.
To
this day I can remember our first grade teacher telling us to pick up whatever
we were to be writing or drawing with and then getting on my case because I
hadn’t picked up my implement up in the right hand.
I
couldn’t understand how my hand wasn’t the correct hand to use. Was I supposed
to use someone else’s hand?
That
right and left business confused me for years.
Just
try getting directions from me.
I’m
actually pretty good at figuring my way around while my husband can get lost
just turning a corner. I’d give my husband directions, as in turn right, or
left, which ever direction I was thinking was the correct way, at the corner so
he’d go to turn the way I said.
“That’s
the wrong direction!”
“That’s
the way you said to turn!”
“Well
I said the wrong way, turn the other direction.”
Just
pointing didn’t work because he had to keep his eyes on the road so we
developed our own code. This-a-way means right (front passengers are on the
right side in the car). That-a-way means left. Our kids grew up with this so
they will give directions using these terms.
Our
teacher did get my writing with my right hand but it wasn’t neat or very
legible until I put a lot of practice into filling reams notebooks, over
several years, just to get it neat enough to read.
Then
out of curiosity I tried my left hand.
No
practice at all and you could barely tell the difference.
Since
then I’ve had people tell me a number of interesting things like I handle
scissors backwards.
Uh?
Oh, I guess I do. But handling them the correct way is awkward for me. I
suppose if I’d ever been handed left handed scissors and been allowed to use
them with my left hand I wouldn’t use them upside down.
I’ve
also been told I use handheld can openers backwards, and in fact this is the
reason I could never successfully use those tiny military openers. They relied
on you turning one way to twist it around the can and the opposite way to get
it off the can. I can only twist the way to get it off the can, not to open the
can.
I’m
a lefty in a right handed world.
I
even had a doctor tell my I’m naturally left handed. He was a specialist in carpal
tunnel syndrome and was doing nerve conductivity tests on both my wrists. He
asked me three times if I was right or left handed.
Since
I generally use my right hand I told him right, but when he kept asking I
finally said that I was ambi.
Then
he said, “Generally speaking the hand with most nerve damage is your dominate
hand. For you it’s your left, that’s why I kept asking which hand was dominate.”
It
was after this declaration that Bonnie and I even learned such a thing as
mirror twins existed and what they were.
Funny
learning about something and realizing you fit in that category. Then I found
out my primary care physician is also a mirror twin. She’s the right handed
twin.
But
I think the most unusual thing of all is two of my five children are also ambidextrous.
My youngest daughter and my youngest son.
Smile.
Make the day a brighter day.
