One day at a time
I'm a journalist by profession and
training. Since my high school days, it's been part of my nature to
document, document, document. Whatever I learn and/or experience, I also
want to share if it can help someone else. So here we are. Me and Dup.
That's what I've decided to name this new addition to my life.
Dup's short for Dupuytren's disease. But you already know if you're reading this.
If we ever meet up, don't be surprised if I show you my left hand. It's not because I want pity or even special attention. It's because I want to make you aware of this crazy disease. Not many know about it. I sure didn't. But turns out there's a lot of us out there. I've read different statistics, but roughly 8.2 percent of people around the world suffer from this debilitating but benign condition.
It's no fun. And it's worse for some than for others. That's the thing — Dupuytren's affects everyone differently. So far, the nodules (some have hardened) in my left hand are my only symptoms. No real contracture of my fingers. Yet. Hopefully, low radiation therapy will calm Dup down and maybe put him in remission.
Yeah, I've made Dup masculine. And a big bully at that.
Oh, he tingled at that declaration just now. That's not good. Tingling can signal progression.
Last month, I had a good cry over Dup. James, my husband (and rock), wrapped his arms around me and patiently listened.
"What's going to happen?" I blubbered. "My hands… I write through my hands. That's who I am! The words come from my head and through my hands onto the keyboard. What will I do?"
And gardening… Our native plant gardens are another huge part of me. In the spring, I spend hours, pruning and trimming back dead growth. While I work, I'm on the look out for new critter species for my iNaturalist list. It's always fun to see my plant friends rebirthing new growth from the ground or stems. In the years to come, will I still be able to use my hands in our gardens? By then, I'm sure Dup will have roped in my right hand. That's how the disease seems to work.
But for now, one day at a time. That's all I can do – live one day at time. That's all any of us can do. I am also trusting in God with all my heart as my body and I learn to live with Dup. God's in control; I'm not alone. And I know there are many like me who've suffered with the disease far longer. I see their hurting hands in my Facebook groups.
If I can pray for you, please let me know.
Dup's short for Dupuytren's disease. But you already know if you're reading this.
If we ever meet up, don't be surprised if I show you my left hand. It's not because I want pity or even special attention. It's because I want to make you aware of this crazy disease. Not many know about it. I sure didn't. But turns out there's a lot of us out there. I've read different statistics, but roughly 8.2 percent of people around the world suffer from this debilitating but benign condition.
It's no fun. And it's worse for some than for others. That's the thing — Dupuytren's affects everyone differently. So far, the nodules (some have hardened) in my left hand are my only symptoms. No real contracture of my fingers. Yet. Hopefully, low radiation therapy will calm Dup down and maybe put him in remission.
Yeah, I've made Dup masculine. And a big bully at that.
Oh, he tingled at that declaration just now. That's not good. Tingling can signal progression.
Last month, I had a good cry over Dup. James, my husband (and rock), wrapped his arms around me and patiently listened.
"What's going to happen?" I blubbered. "My hands… I write through my hands. That's who I am! The words come from my head and through my hands onto the keyboard. What will I do?"
And gardening… Our native plant gardens are another huge part of me. In the spring, I spend hours, pruning and trimming back dead growth. While I work, I'm on the look out for new critter species for my iNaturalist list. It's always fun to see my plant friends rebirthing new growth from the ground or stems. In the years to come, will I still be able to use my hands in our gardens? By then, I'm sure Dup will have roped in my right hand. That's how the disease seems to work.
But for now, one day at a time. That's all I can do – live one day at time. That's all any of us can do. I am also trusting in God with all my heart as my body and I learn to live with Dup. God's in control; I'm not alone. And I know there are many like me who've suffered with the disease far longer. I see their hurting hands in my Facebook groups.
If I can pray for you, please let me know.
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