Sometimes
we refer to the indispensable people who support our work as a “right hand.” I
have been called a “right hand” and have had people who served as my “right hand.”
In addition
to the metaphorical right hand, those of us who are right-handed have a
physical right hand that we count on for many tasks: typing, writing, removing
medicine bottle lids, etc. The uses for our right hand are endless.
The
Alzheimer’s type of disease Jim had (corticobasal ganglionic degeneration)
caused a symptom known as alien limb. In Jim’s case, the limb involved the
right arm. He eventually quit using his right hand and clutched it into a
fist. Although we used every technique we could, his hand became infected and
his little finger had to be amputated. Jim had lost his ability to play the
guitar, but still it comforted me that the hand he used to fret the guitar was
still usable.
Problems
with hands were brought to the forefront of my attention when I began to have
difficulties with my right hand. Each morning, I’d have to work out the kinks
before my hand was useful. I kept thinking that the problems would go away, so
I limited activities that left my hand curled up and in pain. I took ibuprofen
and toughed it out for a few months. Then, my ring finger curled down, and when
I tried to straighten it, it snapped into place.
My family
doctor sent me to an orthopedic specialist. After x-rays, I found out that more
was wrong than right about my hand. He reeled off the problems: trigger finger,
bone spurs, arthritis, ganglion cysts, and carpal tunnel disease.
“I’ll
give you a cortisone shot,” he said. “It helps about 48 percent of the time.” Okay, I
was game. He sprayed the palm of my hand and injected the cortisone.
“Ouch!” I
was not prepared for the pain. “That hurt a lot worse than the shots in my
knees,” If my hand could have talked, it would have been screaming.
“You have
more nerves in your hand,” he explained. No Joke! Not being a medical professional, I had not considered that.
He put a
carpal tunnel brace on my wrist. “You need to wear this when you sleep and when
you drive long distances.” After discussion of what constituted long distances,
I told him I traveled that far five times a month. Our family band practiced
two times a month and we played at nursing homes another three days a month.
“I bet
they really enjoy that,” he said. “What instrument do you play?”
“Ukulele,”
I said. I told him that reluctantly I had started singing. He wanted to know
what I sang. I explained we sang a variety of genres and that one of my
favorites was “Cowboy’s Sweetheart.”
“Do you
yodel?” he asked. I shouldn’t have been surprised that a cowboy poet would
recognize Patsy Montana’s old time hit. I explained that I only yodeled at the
end of the song.
“Yodel
for me!” he said.
I gave a
brief yodel, and it brought a big smile to his face. Guess I can mark yodeling
in a doctor’s office off my bucket list.
As for
the hand, for the first three days I thought I’d made a bad, bad mistake. Then,
like magic, it’s a whole lot better. Makes me feel like yodeling just for the
heck of it.
Copyright
© January 2020 by L.S. Fisher
#ENDALZ
3 comments:
Oh wow... the things I learn, and the things I know and recognize! I've had trigger digit release surgery on 8 of 10 fingers and carpal tunnel surgery on both wrists! LOL And I don't play a musical instrument! I did not know about the type of dementia Jim was diagnosed with. It's very similar to that of someone who has suffered a stroke that paralyzes the extremeties. So sorry for his loss of the use of that hand. Blessings to you both! (Keep yodeling--another thing I can't do! LOL)
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