Randomly, my sister and I had a brief discussion about the loss of a finger. Me: “Could you imagine trying to work with just 9 fingers?” Her: “No”.

Hopefully this isn’t construed as insensitive - it was just a random thought (prompted by who knows what) that I felt warranted a dialogue. We are both knowledge workers, and spend the majority of our working day typing on a keyboard. What would happen if we were missing a finger? Or a hand?

The conclusion was that “we’d figure it out” (which is the right attitude for sure).

That random conversation lead into some deeper thinking on my part. “What exactly do I need in order to work?” Gut answer: “Two hands, ten fingers, and a brain.” The reality is, however, that I could probably figure out how to do what I do with some portion of that. Maybe the majority portion, but it must be doable.

That line of thought lead me to the question of “What exactly am I doing to make sure that those things - the hands, the fingers, the brain - are taken care of?” Thats a meaty one. Although I’ve certainly thought about the health of my brain (even if I don’t always act on it), I don’t know that I’ve ever thought about my appendages that way.

At the time of this writing I’m inching closer to 45. Not young. Also not old (well maybe a bit old if you ask my teenage kids.) The body doesn’t hold up forever. While we are young we 100% take that for granted. And that taken-for-grantedness of youth sometimes trickles into middle age. Especially if we aren’t dealing with any immediate health concerns. I’m kind of in the taken-for-grantedness camp. But I shouldn’t be.

I need to take better care of myself. Not only of my hands, fingers, and brain. But also of the rest of my body. Especially the insides. I’ve heard that they are kind of important.

Its strange how the mind works (at least my mind - so I’ve been told.) Starting with an unprompted conversation about a missing finger, my over-thinking brain takes me into some existential areas that really need more attention that I give them.