Side by side

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My left hand, which shows progression. (I hate to look at this photo.)

My right hand, which is just beginning.

 

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One day at a time

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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. S o 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, t...
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That's me and James yesterday. And Dup. He's always with me now. You just can't see him. He was helping to take that photo. We were all at the Mays Cancer Center in San Antonio yesterday for my CT scan. I mean, our CT scan. At one point in the process of prepping, everyone gathered around me where I lay on a table.  There's Dr. John Yassa, Dr. Chul Ha and CT scan techs Nickie and Louis. That's when my emotions kicked in.  I'm so blessed to have these people taking care of me, I thought as a tear slid out of my eye and onto the bridge of my nose.  James leaned over me. "You ok?"  "I'm just so grateful for everyone helping me," I murmured. It's been a journey since I was first diagnosed with Dupuytren's disease. In September, I was discouraged when an orthopedic surgeon told me that the only option – because it's not curable – was surgery. He told me to come back in six months, and he'd check my hand again. In the meantime...
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