Wednesday, 20 January 2016

Things my hands are handy for

As I believe I've mentioned, I mashed my hands a bit last week. They're healing nicely now, though I haven't been brave enough to peel the steri-strips off yet, and the bruising and tenderness is still pretty bad. Six days of having fairly unhandy hands has revealed to me some surprising ways in which the backs of my hands are really quite important. Prior to this I treated them rather as the poor relations of the appendage family - there to make sure the fronts of my hands were attached to something, but not actually useful in their own right. As it turns out, there are a variety of ways in which I really like the backs of my hands, and have found their incapacitation rather, well, incapacitating:

Wearing gloves. If you can't bend your hands in the middle, and contact with the backs of your hands is painful, then gloves are basically Right Out. Which is obviously why the cold snap started this week.

Putting tights on. Turns out I thread my whole hand into my tights to get them on. Or wear socks instead this week.

Doing the laundry. All of LittleBear's clothes are inverted as they are removed and flung on the floor. All of LittleBear's clothes thus needing turning right-side-out again. LittleBear's sleeves are even narrower than my gloves.

Reading a book. This was a Major Issue. I'd never realised quite what an interesting contortion a hand has to make to hold a book open, in a comfortable position. Or that an un-grippy, un-bendy hand won't contort comfortably. So I was forced to adopt a posture rather more akin to a monk holding a bible. Not at all comfortable. I don't think I'll become a monk.

Tucking my clothes in. It's cold out, and I really dislike draughts sneaking in around my midriff, so I like to tuck at least the base layer in. Just casually slide my hand into the waistband.... aauughhhhhh....

Getting up from sitting on the floor. Time spent with LittleBear is invariably spent sitting on the floor. And then just bunch your hands into fists, fists on the ground, push up.... and collapse on the ground whimpering and cradling your hands. Bugger.

Getting anything out of my handbag. My handbag is a place of Doom And Frustration at the best of times. Whatever I want is always at the bottom, or somehow inside an inner pocket that I didn't even know existed. Now my handbag also seems to be magically filled with hard, sharp, lumpy things that conspire to stab, prod and crush my hands the moment I even consider trying to find my keys. And don't even mention pockets. They're smaller than gloves.

Closing doors. Who closes doors with the backs of their hands? That's just absurd! Turns out I do, if I'm already holding something in my hands. Just a little nudge with the back of the hand to swing the door closed, and then, "oops" that thing I was carrying is now on the floor as the pain prevents me keeping hold of it.

Or perhaps that should be Handnote? Either way, the glue and steri-strips are now off, and the cuts have healed beautifully. But they also still hurt, so most of the above remains true. Apart from holding a book, which is now a doddle. If I were to choose one thing to improve first, it would have been the ability to hold a book, so this is A Good Thing.

No comments:

Post a Comment