Privacy, who cares anymore

I saw the hand surgeon that I liked 3 years ago today. I met this with much nervousness but at the same time a fierce intent to demand care, even if it meant me throwing myself to the floor and begging.

I sat waiting for over a half hour and found myself taking a local stuffed animal that I named Mr. Owl hostage for company. Seems we have a lot in common, Mr Owl and I We both couldn’t wait to flee. I admit it, I had him next to me for a long while on the papered bed and next thing I knew he was in my clutches heading for my purse. I relented to not steal, even if he asked for it.

I sat swinging my legs from that table for a very long time and got bored, so I snooped. Fine, I swiped a dental instrument once, but I didn’t steal a damn thing today. All I did was satisfy my curiosity and pass the time.

This part… don’t read if you don’t want to know.

My doctor came in, one that I’d trusted years ago and is fairly famous for being the surgeon for professional football players before his trot to Nevada…. (guess how cheap he comes). I confessed to almost taking Mr. Owl and he just brow blinked me. Didn’t start that furious scribbling of notes that physicians do to make note of the nutty patients of the day. He seemed to know Mr. Owl’s worth.

He came in looking quite striking as I’d remembered and interested in my issues. Eye contact. Really???? He asked how I was and my usual truth flew out my mouth “Hungry and bored!” He plopped into the chair like he was hungry too, but not bored and rolled my way. After a two second look at my hands he told me what was wrong. I leaned back to imply that it was a hasty
judgement.

Within a few minutes he explained exactly what the fuck it wrong with me and I fell in love. Damn near cried. I call it fucked, he calls it something I can’t spell but something that he is more than pleased to help me with.

I then really wanted to cry. After all this time, someone will help me? He said, well of course, like it was nothing – with all I’ve been through, no it wasn’t. I don’t know if that statement reflected care, or his bank account, but I suspect the former and was so happy in either case.

So let’s talk me. I have a condition (new one, for kicks and joy), likely genetic I'm told (thanks Mom!!) that has piggybacked my Rheumatoid Arthritis and planned itself a par-tay. What is happening is the two major growths on my fingers are abnormal tissue that are suffocating my nerves in those areas. Bottom line. This is great, sigh….. I have two options and both are shit.

First is to let it go how it is going. It will continue to grow and make my hand have no feeling as it wraps around the nerves. Second option, surgery, which could result in my hand having no feeling. Both are the pointer finger to the wrist, not whole hand but I have been told it will return. No one knows what causes it.

Lottery much?

So let’s say fucked and fucked. I’m leaning towards the surgery but thats just one paw, my left will need looking at after months of my right being “recovered” even though it’s certain to grow back. Who knew I was a farm. Water me, I grow!

I do really like this doctor but the cost is upwards of 7k for one hand. No wonder people are sick with no where to go, and I have good insurance…. It’s very sad. And please don’t think I’m in a funk, I have known for a long damn time about all 18 of these growths. I am no where in the mindset of self loathing, a little bummed is all I’d call it. No pity, just DAMN! For real? Then begin calling everything I see a cocksucker, except of course the man who will be operating on me.

I’m digesting all this tonight and told Mr. Morgan to let us enjoy Friday night and we’d talk tomorrow. I truly do not want to scare him. It's not fatal but is very deforming and he didnt sign up for that, better or worse be damned, he didn't. For all my blogging, I really am private about how I feel on things and how very frightened I become, someone needs to be strong in the pinch right? Pick up the bat and go to base?

I’m scared, but what do you do but pick on up. I try not to let on, and am happy to have some resolution information wise, but I have to look at myself everyday, hide my hands and pretend the world is rainbows and unicorns. What else does one do? Life.

In either case I'm losing all knowing what it feels like to have this finger, all the way down to my wrist. Next complaint I hear from someone might be greeted very dismissively. Not for one second am I ok with it, but resigned. I have a good family and loving friends, I'll do my best not to tongue slap any issues brought to me, but I hope the fact I'm going basically useless on one hand is thought of too. People are prone to think of self first, I can't slight thatm but I will give a look to those who know what is happening to me.

- DM