Chances are good that I'm about to disappear.
I'm having surgery on my hand, thanks to a non-dangerous affliction called Dupuytren's contracture. This was named after a scientist named Guillotine Dupuytren, and I hope he's happy. I'd give him the middle finger, but it won't bend that way.
Over time, a patient's fingers can bend toward his palm until he--that would be me--can't use them anymore. In my case it's the two middle fingers on the left hand, where tissue under the skin hardens and draws them in.
I know what you're thinking: "Mark, how did you get Kleenex under your skin?"
No, no, it's not facial tissue, I think. It's one of those medical terms, like when they call a person who draws blood a phlebotomist, instead of the obvious title of "blood sucker". A phlebotomist sounds like someone who collects spit. Thank goodness for knowing terminology, because the medical establishment classifies Dupuytren's contracture as a "tumor".
Think of it more like paper towels when they get squeezed together while wet, then dry into a hard mass you can't break with a hammer. My sewer once got blocked that way. Unrelated to my hand.
In the United Kingdom, where many of my ancestors come from, about 20% of men over 65 have, as the drug commercials would put it, D.C. I'm not that old yet, but you gotta start somewhere. My Grandmother had it, and her maiden name was Welch, which is Welsh. But you knew that.
It's often painless, although it's started to hurt me--and hurt way more after the ortho doctor poked and prodded at it for half an hour. There's also the time he tried to ease the pain by sticking a five foot long needle through my hand, but never mind.
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| Proof: the needle mark | |
The man ran an iron bar through my palm--to make the pain go away! It did eventually, but I broke my other hand while punching the wall.
It wasn't the pain that worried me: It was the fact that I keyboard for my fulltime job and for my part time job, and now that I'm no longer an active firefighter, I keyboard for the Fire Department. You older people, that means typing. Typing with one hand clenched into a fist would cause issues.
So the doctor's going to put me under, then use a fork and steak knife to dig the tumor/tissue out. Then I won't be able to use my left hand for about two weeks.
You see where I'm going with this.
I once had a boss who had one hand, and he could do just about anything a two-handed person could do, out of necessity. I'm not that kind of person. I've been practicing, and it's no go. I'll have to wear sweatpants and zippered hoodies I can't zip up. Cooking will be even more dangerous than before.
Okay, usually Emily cooks, but as for doing the dishes, we'll have to stock up on paper and plastic. Mowing the lawn will be up to my grandkids. (I actually like mowing, when it's not so humid you have to shoo fish out of the way.) I have to take two weeks off work, which is fine, but everything I do at home involves a keyboard, too.
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| "No, you type with your left hand--oh, let's just watch Expedition Unknown." |
Which brings me to the internet.
Some would say I spend too much time on the internet, and they'd be right. I submit that some of that time is necessary, both to keep up with friends and family and to promote my writing. I also submit that I can't type well one handed. I'll try some speech to text writing, but based on experience with my phone, I'd have to type that much more to correct mistakes.
So I declare late August to be a vacation from the internet, and if you see a long piece of writing from me it was probably prescheduled. Once the pain and pain meds have subsided enough for me to think straight, I want to catch up on my reading.
But what I'll probably do is watch TV.
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