What's in a hand?

 Since June 15th, I've been without the use of my right hand.

I take that back...I can use it, but only in a limited way and not without considerable discomfort and a lot of awkwardness.

It was at least a month or so ago that I was diagnosed with carpal tunnel syndrome. It's been at least a year since my right hand began going numb during the night and not regaining its full feeling for hours after I woke up. Praying it wasn't diabetic neuropathy, I went through the motions of consulting first Google (my go-to source of medical information), then my primary care physician, then a physical therapist, then finally a hand specialist. 

That wasn't the final step, though. To obtain an accurate diagnosis, the hand doc sent me for an EMG. For those of you who aren't familiar with that test, let me just say you don't ever want to have one unless it's the last resort to finding out exactly what's wrong. EMG (short for electromyography), is a bear of a test. You're wired to a series of leads through which electrical impulses are directed. They zap away, measuring the health of muscles and the nerves that control them. Thankfully, the doctor who administered the test was a gem, a master of his trade who made the experience, if not pleasant, at least tolerable.

The EMG said it all: carpal tunnel syndrome. Solution: surgery.

That established, I had the procedure on an out-patient basis...a little drip of propofol, lidocaine to numb the hand (while I was blissfully unaware) and about six little stitches from base of the wrist to the middle of the palm. Then a big, bulky bandage which came off after three days (showering was a challenge!) and now a large band-aid that covers the incision. Stitches come out on July 1st.

 Until then, though, everything is a chore. Being right hand dominant, I find it excruciatingly difficult to do just about anything. From opening a pill bottle (which I've done a lot these past six days) to putting peanut butter on a piece of bread, it's a slow process. I've been exhausted from simply getting dressed.

But...a dear friend spends four hours three times a week in dialysis just to continue living. Another is marking the end of her days as she lies in the care of hospice. Another has lost her sight and is dependent on too-busy nursing home aides for the simplest of services. And my right hand hurts. Gee, what a pity!

You see, it's easy to whine and feel sorry for myself because I'm temporarily forced to alter my day-to-day routine. But when I consider the plight of others in my own circle of friends who are facing major, life-altering things every minute, I am reminded that my little complaints are trivial in relation to theirs. My right hand will heal; their calamitous health problems won't. Lesson: look outside yourself when you are tempted to believe you're the only one who suffers. Others suffer worse.