‘Live Life With Your Hands Open’

It was my intention to write about Elon Musk’s election interference … again.

But I was sidetracked by another feel-good story. This one about my health. I am a patient perpetually recovering from one surgery or another. My hobby continues. If surgeons offered punch cards, I’d have gotten a free sandwich by now.

I’ll share a couple of photos that won’t make you blow your crumpets. This was my right hand in April. That is as far as I could open it. My dreams of mastering the ukulele were dashed.

My right hand was a spring project, and it has healed, so now I can execute a single jazz hand. Broadway, I’m coming.

My hands were normal until about ten years ago, and the change was gradual. I was told I could thank my Viking ancestors for this condition, which was interesting because I didn’t know I had any. Ancestry spit test cannot confirm or deny the percentage of my Olde Norse DNA, but it exists. I didn’t inherit the tall blonde genes, just the messed up hands. þökk fyrir, great, great, great, great, great… grandpa.

This disorder is called dupuytren’s contracture, Google away. My fists gradually lost the ability to open. Imagine, if you will, Thor, the God of Thunder’s fist gripped around his Mjölnir hammer. Now pull the tool away and his hand is frozen in that position. Add to that my arthritic thumb. I’ll blame yaya for that. I am 50% Greek, and I thank that side for my unibrow as well. Ευχαριστώ πολύ.

This creative soul has been rife with heartache. I couldn’t play the lyre of my ancestors for the life of me. Not that I ever tried, but my desire to garner new skills increases with each physical restriction.

Snore, I have a laundry list of health problems. My mother informs me it’s because I’m old. (Somehow she’s not.) My daughter tells me it’s because I don’t eat. (I do.) And my son tries to ‘high five’ me. (I prefer fist bumps.) Anyway, my right hand is free at last. The arthritic trapezium bone was taken out and the beaded strings inside my palm removed. It really is a miracle.

No gory pictures here, but I was encouraged by the results to continue.

Take a minute to appreciate your hands… 58, 59, 60. Moving on.

Because I forgot how painful the recovery was, I scheduled another outpatient visit, on the last day of September, featuring my left hand. Yes, I’m left-handed. This is my last hand. Thank Thor, I only have two.

You may have noticed I’m not writing much these days. I had taken for granted all the things I needed my hands to do. Voice command, you say? Hmm…

I was trying to say, “reply Y for yes and N for no.” The message sent before I had finished “if you are no longer interested in receiving these messages, please respond STOP.”

Anyway, I can’t make any promises, but I really want to complain about Elon Musk again. So I’ll be back soon.

In closing, YO, GEN-Z, VOTE TODAY! Everyone, vote early to avoid Election Day shenanigans. You with the flawless complexion, and you, whose acne has yet to abate, this is your future! You will regret your apathy if Trump wins.