My two hands have served me loyally for a great many years, but now they are making noises about a partial retirement. Since I am not a good listener, the signs have been growing ever less subtle: carpal tunnel syndrome, arthritis, and this nasty tearing pain in my right primate muscle every time I knit more than four or five rows at a sitting. What to do?
Well, I have heard someone who played a doctor on TV say that everything we do is basically a stall. While that’s a daunting thought, I suppose it’s a truth that we must simply accept if we want to experience some happiness during our time in this mortal coil. My hand-related stalls to date: wrist braces, generous doses of acetaminophen, a hand cream laced with painkillers, stretching exercises, and poorly monitored periods of rest.
Hands are strange and marvelous creatures, able to thread a needle or catch a ball or wrangle any one of the myriads of today’s labor-saving devices without breaking a sweat. In my case, the right is clearly the boss. I am especially intrigued by the concept of muscle memory. I can knit, crochet, type, and tie my shoes; my hands can show you how, but don’t expect me to explain any of those things.
When I look at my hands, they look the same to me as they always have. I see the scar I got in 1983 from cutting lettuce in a busy restaurant kitchen. I still have the freckles. My fingers are still blunt and square, making the use of nail polish ill-advised. But I know that my hands have changed. My fingers have thickened to that point that I can’t get my wedding rings past my first knuckle, and arthritis is doing its level best to bend everything in odd directions. The pain and numbness are always there to some extent, waiting to take center stage if I forget to rest and stretch.
I am most grateful to these hands of mine, and I haven’t always been the most thoughtful host. So here, then, is my proposal to these two good and loyal friends: Ralph, Louie, you keep doing all the wonderful things you know how to do, and I promise in return to give you lots of paid vacation, not to mention some good drugs and the best daily spa treatments that money can buy.
For your further edification:
- My throwing in the phrase “mortal coil” might be considered the literary version of virtue signaling. Here’s the link to Hamlet’s soliloquy, which contains the phrase, plus a lot of others that have found their way into popular culture. Hamlet’s Soliloquy, “To Be Or Not To Be,” a Modern English Translation – The LitCharts Blog
I agree! My hands have done very well be me as well! A few years ago. after carpal tunnel surgery on both hands, and a diagnosis of osteoarthritis I still had stiff, achy joints, worst in the morning. I started using CBD (hemp) oil as a daily supplement. It is a subtle difference, but I’m convinced it is helping quite a bit. And, these days there are mail order sources at various price levels (depending on how pure a product and extraction technique you are willing to pay for). Just a thought. Nice post!
Thank you! I’m always open to new ideas.
Thank you, Evelyn, for sharing the wisdom of identifying essential parts of our person that change and succumb to weakness. Hands. I have always had big and strong hands, which have served me well. I am finding that I cannot open just any ol’ jar with ease anymore. Lucky to be part of the Baby Boom generation, where remedies for stiffness and joints that don’t work as they used to are being shared among us.
👍
My pleasure, my friend! My favorite is the “rubber husband,” which is a round piece of rubber that you use to open jars.
Love, love, love this! As always, I delight in your word choice and imagery. I too have hand problems, and they started at about the age you are now, so I sympathize.
Thank you!
Great topic! I used to watch Scrubs all the time, love the reference. I tell all of my physical therapy patients something along the lines of “be patient with your body!” So many are frustrated (and quite understandably so) with how their bodies are “failing” them but they should also be grateful to these amazing structures for what they’ve been able to do.
So true, that’s good advice.