Unhappy hands

I understand that there is no scientific proof that weather has any effect on arthritis but wow, have my hands been stiff and painful the last few days and how coincidental that we have been in the midst of a full fall PNW storm consisting of rain, wind and cold.

My thumbs, which are always the worst areas, as well as deep down into my wrists have hurt horribly. My standard doses of medication have done nothing to relieve the pain and I am noticing increased aches in my right elbow as well. It took me a long time to realize that the elbow joint was affected. For some reason I don’t always associate aches and pains with progression of the arthritis and have to go through a series of deductive steps to rule out simple over use or things like pulled muscles. Possibly I am just trying to avoid the idea that rather than stopping progression of this disease it is actually advancing.

I bought some wrist supports today to see if in using them at night I could be more comfortable when I am sleeping. I am a right side sleeper by habit, but find that position to be one where I just can’t get situated, comfortable or easily fall asleep. If my body is comfortable then my wrists and hands aren’t and vice versa. Even lying on my back leaves me with this drawn out process of repeated attempts to find a comfortable place to rest my hands.

I don’t look at my hands very much anymore. They remind me so very much of my mothers hands. All twisted, gnarled and knobby. When I don’t look for a long time it’s really rather shocking to see the changes, the new twists and the more pronounced Heberden’s nodes.


My hands aren’t quite this bad, yet. That illustration is so what I remember about my mom’s hands though and I have a few fingers that are getting pretty close. I look from this picture to my own hands and have to take a moment. There are some tears that want to make their way down my cheeks. I know it could be worse. I think the visuals bring more to mind as far as memories of my mother than just her hands. It’s almost like I see myself turning into her even though I know I’m not even close to the person she was and I am thankful for that.

So much for wallowing in some self-pity for tonight. I try not to write about stuff like this. I don’t like to air my whiny side here to much. I have this idea that I’m supposed to be tough, to take it. Sometimes that’s easier said than done. I guess tonight was one of those nights.

Thanks for listening.


7 thoughts on “Unhappy hands”

  1. Pretty nice post. I just stumbled upon your blog and wanted to say
    that I’ve really enjoyed surfing around your blog posts.
    In any case I will be subscribing to your feed and I hope you write again very soon!


  2. Sorry things are bad now, and I agree with Sue – vent away! I expect it’s more honest than literary, but I love the train of thought as you considered the different hands – yours, your mom’s, the image. It made me think of this book I meant to read years ago, Frank Wilson’s ‘The Hand: How it’s use shapes the brain, language and human culture’ – they’re such amazing and powerful and delicate little appendages. Wishing some relief for yours.


    1. Thanks! I’m constantly teased about the fact that I could not talk if I didn’t have my hands. In especially animated conversations, emphatically important points, or I suppose just in general my hands do much of my talking. They sort of wave around out of their own volition, I have no control but there is definitely a direct line between them and my brain 🙂


  3. I’m so sorry to hear that you are suffering from such a painful affliction. But it does help, sometimes, to sound off about these things so feel free to ‘whine’ as much as you want! I’m always here to listen.


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