Asperger's / Autism Toolbox
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Having a Hand in Things
A Post by Monkey Plierson December 3, 2012
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Asperger's / Autism ToolboxH EO M Having a Hand in ThingsA Post by Monkey Plierson December 3, 2012 View Blog Listings |
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A couple of weeks ago, I thought I'd injured my hand. I was told at the doctor's office that it appeared that I had a cyst and an inflamed tendon. An anti-inflammatory was prescribed, and I was sent to a hand specialist. The diagnosis I ended up with after seeing that specialist was not what I'd expected - or even anything I'd ever heard of before. Over the course of my life, I've been diagnosed with various things that can't be undone: scoliosis, at age 11; fibromyalgia, at 19 (back when they were still calling it fibrositis); Asperger's syndrome, just this past July, at the age of 44; and now Dupuytren's (DOO-puh-trinz) disease. Dupuytren's is not life threatening and doesn't affect the health of the rest of the body. I'm told it won't spread beyond my hand, though we don't know yet how bad it will get, how quickly it will develop, or whether or not it will appear in my other hand, as well. (It's usually bilateral, but, so far, it's only in my nondominant hand.) I've been informed that, if I have this form of it, I won't get the kind that affects the feet, and that I'd already know it by now if I had that kind, anyway. It usually progresses very slowly, over a period of years. It's not normally painful, though the way it seems to be intersecting with my fibromyalgia is making my case a bit different. As long as I can still lay my palm flat on a table, nothing needs to, or can, be done about it. After that, there are some procedures that might restore some of my mobility, at least to some degree. It won't do any harm to continue to exercise the hand, put pressure on it during various activities, or play my drum. I'm hoping that strengthening and stretching the hand will, at the very least, help me to compensate better and longer for what's happening. I already have an exercise plan I try to follow, which helps me deal with my fibromyalgia and stave off back problems, so I just need to work in some new stuff for additional therapy. I have to admit that I was frightened and upset when I first got the news. I'm still feeling some of that now, even though the initial shock has begun to wear off somewhat. After all, in spite of the good news, this is more than just a cosmetic problem. My girlfriend's encouraging words have helped, and I've taken some quiet time, out in the sunshine, on the back stoop, to drink some hot tea and reflect a bit. Because this isn't my first go-around with a diagnosis of something permanent, I had a head start on how to cope. Some of my thinking stretches back into my youth, when I was first struggling to deal with difficult things about myself. I don't always find myself entirely able to live by my philosophy. In fact, I've had some rather spectacular moments of doing otherwise. But I do much better than I would if I didn't have that philosophy at all. I've applied it, to varying degrees of success at different times, to my previously discovered health issues, my level of strength and physical capabilities, my sexual orientation, my gender identity and expression, and my Aspie-related neurology. And now, here I am, at it again. As I sat out there this afternoon, here's what I finally thought: I accept my body; it's not my enemy. It is not a prison. I'm going to take the best care of it I can, until the point at which it can't carry me anymore and the time comes to let go. I'm going to treat it with the respect with which I would treat another person and not blame or punish it for what it can't help. Maybe the hidden gift of various aspects of aging, disability, and other challenging circumstances is that we get the opportunity to face that which is unexpected, uncertain, confusing, inevitable, and unalterable, and learn to deal with it. After all, every one of us is going to conclude by arriving at the greatest unavoidable unknown. It does us good, I think, to have a little practice beforehand. None of this is any less true for someone with Asperger's, so I'm going to take this as another opportunity to familiarize myself with this sort of thing as best I can. For a while, I may feel like crying a little, from time to time. But that's okay. Those feelings that make that happen aren't wrong to have, nor are they the end of the story. They're as natural as anything else about me, and I'm going to let them be what they are, just as I'm accepting my body as it is. I'll have to work at that acceptance sometimes, just as I'll have to work at taking care of myself. But I also feel committed and determined. And I feel something else, too, as I look out at the sunshine while I write this, just as I eventually did as I came to the end of my cup of tea, out on the stoop: joyful. I've had wonderful times, and I think there will be more. I've landed in good company, with some people I've learned are worthy of my trust. My life is good. I'm going to continue to find pleasure in it.
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