Beech Tree News Network

I am typing this column with my left hand.  I had carpal tunnel surgery on my right hand this past Thursday, and I am bandaged from my fingertips to midway up my right arm.  The pre-op nurse who took my information on Wednesday told me she had had the same procedure three weeks before, and she assured me that recovery time is minimal for this particular operation.  She herself had the surgery on Thursday and was back at work on Monday, typing away, she told me.  The psychic, Sylvia Brown, believes there are aliens living among us who just haven’t revealed themselves to the general population.  I’m convinced the pre-op nurse is among their ranks, being of some super-humanoid genesis, a species able to heal themselves seemingly over-night.  I, unfortunately, am not of such hefty stock.

I have a real struggle on my hands, and I do mean both my hands.  For one thing, I’m discovering that my left hand has not been paying attention.  You would think that two appendages who have spent 56 years together might have picked up a thing or two from one another, but I’m coming to the realization that the left hand has basically been coasting all this time.  My left hand can’t button my jeans or fasten my unmentionables or even put my hair in a ponytail holder.  This morning it dropped my makeup bag and brush into the cat litter, and dropped a bag of frozen biscuits on my toe. 

The bandages don’t come off until this Thursday, and I’m sure there are going to be restrictions on what my right hand will be allowed to do for awhile.  In the meantime, I will just have to depend on my family and friends for help, because I sure haven’t been able to depend on my left hand.  It’s really hard for me to ask for help, but Garey and Natalie have come through with flying colors.  Nat has swept and mopped and loaded the dishwasher.  Garey has made holiday candy and put wire hangers on the glass bottles I’ve slumped and built a fire in the fireplace.  Oh yeah, there was that chimney fire incident on Saturday night, and I will have to give my left hand credit for the way it rallied in the face of adversity.

Garey was in the process of building a nice toasty fire when he noticed smoke coming out from around the bookshelves to the left of the fireplace.  He told me to call the fire department while he ran outside to get the garden hose.  Assisted by my left hand, I was able to scoop up my granddaughter and get her to the other end of the house, pull the stockings from the mantel, and remove the DVDs and books from the bookshelves in order for Garey to tear into the wall and begin filling the area with water.  The fire department arrived in record time and contained the fire to the chimney.  Our neighbor, Cathy Wallace, offered to let my granddaughter and me wait out the chaos at her house, and our neighbors, Vickie and Timmy Jones drove over to make sure we were all safe.   

The smoke and water damage were minimal, and it was so good to wake up Sunday morning in our own house and not a homeless shelter.  Timmy came over and helped Garey clean things up and get the fireplace insert back into the wall, proving once again that good friends are priceless.  I’ve decided that everything else I get for Christmas is icing.  I’ve also decided that I need to appreciate what my left hand is doing for me while my right hand is on vacation.  So what if I can’t cut wrapping paper or peel potatoes or comb my hair or type a column in under two-and-a-half hours, I can still operate the microwave and the TV remote.  My life has been reduced to the essentials.  Merry Christmas, Left Hand, thanks for being there for me.


(Special thanks to the Morgantown Fire Department from the Hughes family.)