*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Get it for
Apple iOS.
Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2067469
Rated: E · Non-fiction · Biographical · #2067469
How my fingers decided to do their own thing.
How do your fingers work for you? Are they lazy or are they helpful and follow your lead. Well, I have a story for you and It's all about fingers.

When I was young I had beautiful long fingers. My mom had me take piano lessons. I loved playing and became very good at it.

After I married, one of the biggest surprises I ever had for Christmas, was when my husband bought me a piano. I found it at home when I got off from work. It was very exciting for me. I bought so many piano books and started playing again. This continued for a very several years.
At parties I would play, and others would sing along with me. If my Aunts and Uncles were over, one of my uncles would have me play, and he would sing. He played guitar and his voice was like heaven. I loved every minute of it.

One day, my deranged dog chewed up one of my fingers, and I lost the top joint. It became much shorter, but It wasn't so bad. I continued to play. I even learned how to play piano with one hand and a keyboard with the other. Now that was really fun.

Within the next year, another one of my fingers decided to go its own way. It kept its' bottom part straight, but made the upper part turned to the left. It was funny looking and painful. I had to go to a bone doctor who said I needed surgery to straighten it out. I agreed and had it operated on . Next, two or three more fingers coped and attitude and wanted to go their own way. None of them went the same way the others did. This too was extremely painful, and they had to be operated on. At the time I should have thought of giving them a lobotomy, but I didn't.

When I was well enough, I began to play again, but it was harder. I had lost my reach. I taught myself to roll my fingers more, therefore reaching the notes I needed. I was happy I could still play.

Through the years, each finger on each hand, rebelled and turned every which way they could. It was as if they were trying to separate from the hand. Even my hand rebelled once. It grew a cyst one inch in diameter, and continued to grow. I couldn't write, paint and or play the piano. It got to the point it had to come out. This was major surgery and it left me in a cast for twelve (12) weeks. I have a plate on the top of my dominate hand and part of the wrist bone removed. My handwriting was atrocious. But I don't let these things get me down. I made myself write to people, even if they couldn't read it, and I continued to type on the computer. All of this leaves me with pain, but it has to be done. They have to be kept moving or they will freeze up. Sadly to say, I can't play the piano like I use to. I have started practicing again, but I can't do it for very long. It's painful, and I get very frustrated because I have a hard time playing a simple piece.
Now, my little finger on my left hand is rebelling, and I call him spirit. I'm going to put a picture of it on the cover. My doctor said he can't fix it. He said if he did, it would stick straight up all the time. I thought that was kind of funny. Now, the biggest issue I have is my typing. My little finger gives me grief all the time. Think about it. I ended up in jail more times when I was playing in the Mr. Bones contest, because I couldn't spell. Actually, I can spell, but my little finger can't. Not only that, the darn finger continues to turn on the Caps when I'm typing. I can go a paragraph and look up and half of it is in Caps. I have to go back and redo all of it. It even sneaks in other letters, which are not supposed to be there. I wish it would give me a break once in a while.

This is a true story. It's how Rheumatoid Arthritis affects your hands. It attacks your entire body. My voice becomes very hoarse at times because of the change in my vocal chords. It has also changed my lungs. It isn't fun when you walk a distance (not far) and become short of breath.

I'm telling my story because it means a lot to me, for my friends to know why I type or write the way I do. It isn't for pity, it's to give you information about this disease.

Lynda

802 words
© Copyright 2015 Lynda Miller (lmiller7569 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Log in to Leave Feedback
Username:
Password:
Not a Member?
Signup right now, for free!
All accounts include:
*Bullet* FREE Email @Writing.Com!
*Bullet* FREE Portfolio Services!
Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2067469