Here is what I know.  In a week I will enter the hospital with the full use of both arms and both legs, and later that day, when I leave, I will not be able to move my arm for the next six weeks. I will not be able to tie my shoes, buckle my belt, put on my sox, or sleep on my back.

I will be the man in those one-armed man stories that float through our culture.

The man who escaped from prison and comes across a couple necking out in the moonlit summer's night. The girl has been growing anxious ever since she heard the new flash on the radio. The boy assured her it was OK and insisted that they keep kissing. The girl finally convinces the boy to take her home and, upon opening the door, screams bloody murder. There, hanging from the car door, is the steel claw arm of the one-armed prisoner!

Or The Fugitive. That  television series from the '60's where a doctor is accused of murdering his wife is forced to live a life on the run, seeking the true killer. One man is haubnted by the authories and the FBI, the other is a one-armed bandit being chased to justice by our fugitive hero. It's a shadow story, both men on the run. One man the shadow side or doppleganger of the other. For years we only see glimpses of the one-armnsed killer eluding our hero. Each episode dedicated to a new predicament that the fugitive finds himself, each predicament an opportunity for him to improve the lives of others around him. Both men trapped in a television series chasing each other, chasing the truth.  

I will be the one-armed man in a sling haunting the shadow of my own life.  .