How Can I Thumb My Nose at a Healing Touch?

My wrist and thumb began throbbing on Thursday afternoon around three thirty. I stopped typing, straightened the piles on my desk, went to the ladies, straightened up a pile on my credenza… afraid to push my thumb one more click on the keyboard. I took the train to a different stop where I’d left my car in the morning to visit a friend for dinner. I couldn’t connect my seatbelt, turn the key in the ignition nor squeeze the shift into reverse without shooting pains from my thumb. They offered me wine. I asked for ibuprofen and swallowed it with the wine. And accepted an offer of a second glass without a protest, “it’s a school night”.

A couple more ibuprofen and a blue ice pack that smelled like it came from a freezer of dead meat…which it did, allowed me to sleep. Friday morning I yelped, surprised by the pain to pull up my panties, then allowed myself pathetic moans when I held the tooth brush, squeezed the toothpaste, fastened my bra, checked the time on my phone, twisted off and back on the pot part of the espresso maker, opened the cat food, hoisted my briefcase, squeezed the shifter into reverse. And, then I transitioned to internal swearing as I pulled out my ticket, Kindle and phone and attempted to use them on the train. You get the picture. Having an opposable thumb is a miracle for mankind, and a monumental inconvenience when it’s needed and on strike. It took me about two minutes in my office to decide to make the call to get a chiropractic appointment which required an early train home and taking a couple hours of sick time.

The diagnosis is tendonitis or carpal tunnel with perhaps some other possibilities of nerve pinching, which I think is very possible. The doctor conducted manipulations, ordered ultrasound on the hand and applied stims to the back. He told me to ice the hand, place heat on the back and take ibuprofen. I did every thing he said and added a glass of pinot noir.

Yesterday, I woke up in pain and still yelped externally when I pulled on my panties and pants. Once, I got moving I realized that the pain while still constant diminished from a 7 to a 6. I switched off stinky blue ice packs all day, washing them with dish soap in between to mask the smell. I put on perfume before leaving for a bar–concert then rested one of the refurbished and refrozen ice packs on the gear shift to drive down town. when I arrived my wrist once again  smelled like a vintage pork chop.

Still working on ibuprofen every eight hours, I confused the bar tender after ordering a beer when I asked for a glass of ice. She served a bottle of Pilsner Urquel and a glass of ice. I guess others drink beer like that. Yuck. I rephrased and asked her to pour the ice into a plastic cup and still give me the glass, now chilled for the beer. She nodded in understanding when she watched me place the cup on my hand, I guess others who excessively use the computer use glasses of ice like that.

My friend at the concert looked concerned and asked me why I went between placing a glass on my hand to saying the pledge of allegiance. I told her having my hand on my heart was the only position where I was pain free. And that was after I iced till the cold hurt. After we left the bar, she offered to give me a ride to my car parked a few blocks away. I accepted. When we pulled up next to it, I opened my door as I started to say good bye.

Catherine reached out her hand palm up and asked for mine. She asked me where it hurt. I gingerly dragged my fingers from between my first and second finger up my forearm. She placed her other hand over that area and told me to close my eyes. I did. As she drew her hand away less than a minute later,  she said, “We will see what happens now.” 

This followed meaty heart to heart conversations through the night. I didn’t clarify. She may have meant that or the hands-on stillness we shared in the car. We hugged and parted.

This morning I woke up pain free. I mean… pain free. My hand still looks puffy. Getting dressed included no distress. I twisted tops of contact lotion, tooth paste and the espresso maker with no pain. I’m typing this now… no pain. On one hand, chiropractor, ibuprofen, ice and wine. On the other hand… the one that hurt- a healing touch.