Due to omnifarious reasons, mostly inflammatory arthritis from my lupus, my right hand was operated on 4 moths ago. The surgery entailed a joint reconstruction of basal thumb, a trigger finder, a pinched nerve and carpal tunnel repair. There are four incisions. It was not heroism to have my right hand cut. It was of dire functions and survival. And it was brutal--the pain. And I am no slouch.
I was determined to be my own physical therapist, occupational therapist and rehabilitation officer afterwards. With a soft cast covering the right thumb and wrist, I performed on the piano 9 days after surgery, with 9 fingers. It was borderline insanity and stupidity. Yet, through the misery, I am recovering from the savaging knives. Nonetheless, the overall arthritis of the hands, fingers, and other major and minor joints is unrelenting.
Audiences cannot tell the difference in my piano/organ playing. I can. My hands and fingers feel differently: more tightness, tension and less spontaneity.
I have long accepted a life of malady. With it comes the misery of sensory communications of what is wrong--pain. It is my body's way of letting me know something is terribly amiss. I accepted that fate long ago. There is no mercy. Only surrender.
I was once asked about chronic pain. I replied, "I don't remember not having pain, ever."
I liken the protracted monster to a bad car engine. When a car starts swiftly, runs smoothly, accelerates spontaneously and has no hesitations, no one ever thinks about the engine until one hears a noise. Pain is noisy. Yet one often gets accustomed to it helplessly. As for myself, I have been on a physical de-sensitization course for decades.
Once I was caught in a tender moment of vulnerability, I was told that I was crying in my sleep--I had no recollection of that. Obviously my subconscious sighs and grieves for me. My lupus, though does not define me, is my chassis. I accept the challenges, the limitations, the throes, and the knowledge that harsh medicines including chemotherapy will remain my life-long companions. These companions steal my wares whenever they want. I will then have to live without.
A recent reunion with a childhood friend gave me a taste of a better presence. She practices Qigong and acupressure. There was a bit of respite after her offering. I am once afresh to take charge of my pain management as I had almost given up. I have choices: PT, heat, massage, ultra-sound, gentle exercise, reflexology and acupressure.
A paraffin bath will arrive next week for my hands and feet. Massage therapy will be explored. I might even learn Tai Chi.
With fervency, I decided to wage an encore bet with my pain. When offense is not attainable; defense ain't so bad.
The game is on. Hope and strategy--in high gear.
