Talk to the Hand

I'm having therapy. Not the kind you bare your soul over: this is all about the hand, man. Every Tuesday and Thursday since this month began, and for a couple more weeks, I visit a rehab center and spend an hour with Mike. I'm fine, really - just a numb ring finger and pinky on my left hand that isn't, as I first thought, CTS (Carpel Tunnel Syndrome). Nope. Mine is special. Luckily, it never interfered with this thing I'm doing now. (You know, writing.)

I have a whole series of exercises to do so my fingers will get with the program. Like throw a Kleenex up in the air and catch it between my thumb and my "problem fingers." (Don't try this at home - it's very important that you have a physical therapist observe you to make sure you're doing it right. And after you're done, if you have a cold, you don't have to return the Kleenex. Score! Free tissues!) Then there's the one where I have to stretch and mold putty in one hand without help from the other (it's harder than it sounds, and you don't get to take the putty home).

And there's more! There's a gripper thing - the Digiflex - with finger pads that feels like I'm an ice cream truck driver making change with it. And let's not forget the "arm bike," which is pretty much like a stationary bike, only ten times more boring, if that's possible. But my favorite, hands down (sorry about that), is the one where I get to shoot marbles. Yes, alleys and swirls and cat's eyes! Mike sets up a barrier with a towel and I fire those bad boys right down the center. I'm getting pretty good at it.

Today I noticed that the numbness is almost gone, but I didn't tell Mike yet, because I want another shot at those marbles next week.

© 2015 A Bit of Brie/Anitabrie