These Hands

It wasn't until now I realized that I'd taken advantage of my hands.

The essential extremities to every human are our hands. For the last couple of months, I've been thinking about my purpose. The things I once was able to do I can no longer do or be anymore. Will I ever feel 100%? Will I ever do all of the things that I love in this lifetime?

As I type/voice note this, both of my hands are screaming for help.

Screaming for relief

Screaming for healing

Screaming for normalcy

The many things I took for granted

Putting on pants

Holding my favorite mug for my coffee

Taking a shower

Holding a book

Writing

Cleaning

Holding my cell phone

Eating

Holding my nieces

SPLAT!!! CRASH!!! BOOM!!!

Are the musical notes I hear when I drop things

I can't grip.

I feel weak.

I don't feel like myself.

I don't feel normal.

I feel useless.

I feel things would never be the same.

The pleasure I get from combing my hair is no longer.

The feeling I get while stirring a pot of oatmeal is no longer.

The relief I feel from washing a dish, doing the laundry, and sweeping a neat pile in the middle of the floor is no longer.

My hand is covered in a sleeve to hide the swelling and to help with the soreness.

My dreaded days consist of tingling, numbing, soreness, swelling.

Here I am in pain, miserable, waiting for the day I can be me again.

I am waiting to do the things that I love again.

The only grip my hands are holding onto is of the unknown.

I'm tired. Scared. Defeated

I've learned my lesson, and I will never take advantage of my hands again.

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