This post drifts through time a bit, please bear with me. When I was young 9-10 or so I remember admiring my hands, fascinated with everything I could do with them, trying to wrap my head around the fact that one day my hands would be still and cold and what a loss that would be. I never imagined in life my wonderful hands wouldn’t cooperate or that moving them would cause pain. Thank goodness for the innocence of youth, to have known that then would’ve caused serious mental anguish and I had enough of that as a kid. I was lucky in a sense, my Mom had a garage full of materials and hardware for building whatever I imagined and created some cool stuff, with these hands. Summertimes at the farm were filled with exploring the pasture and the nearby lake, climbing through barbed wire was 2nd nature, flipping over rocks to flush out garter snakes, which I caught without fear 😀 raiding the garden for a snack and pretty much what ever I could get into, it was awesome. I worked physical labour jobs as a teenager (I moved away from home @16) that never phased me, in fact I loved it. A desk job would have driven me crazy! Moving was a way of life, after 2 children it became even moreso, chasing them and keeping up was a job in itself. I took for granted my abilities, but I’m so very glad I had them then. It was the yr my kids turned 20 & 18 when I was diagnosed, they did’nt need me so much by then, but that was the time where I needed my body to back me up. My kids have a life of their own and asking them for help is not a realistic option nowdays. I miss cooking most nights, funny how gross take out becomes after awhile. I miss the great skill my hands use to have, more a clumsey awkwardness with them now, but they still serve me to the best of their ability. When I look at my hands now it’s often with pity for they have been shortchanged, I step back and let someone else do the handywork when I know if I was well my hands would be kicking ass.
I can’t help it, I miss doing some things. Screw you RA!