I have been waiting for this day for several weeks now. To understand what I am saying, I have to take you back to 3 months ago. In July, I woke up one morning with a pain in my right wrist. I did not fall or do anything unusual the previous day, so I overlooked this pain. After completing my morning shift of work, I decided to give my hand some rest. Rather than the pain subsiding, it increased. By the end of the day, it was swollen. By the next day, I could barely move my fingers.

I thought to myself that most probably, I have a hairline fracture. “A sprain!” said my husband. Anyhow, the x-ray ruled out my doubts. We went ahead on the premise that it’s a sprain. Two weeks later, a trip to the orthopaedic surgeon revealed more problems. In effect, I had to sit with a crepe bandage around my wrist.

Life suddenly changed since that ill-fated day in July. I could barely use my hand. I did not have a tight grip in my hand; pain became a constant feature, and I was tired of listing all the complaints I have with my hand. There was a burning sensation, tingling and numbness. Gradually, the fresh pink palm donned a greyish dead fish look. After taking an MRI, the doctor started his treatment, but he warned that I may have to live with some of these pains. The list of ailments was a sprained wrist, TFCC disc tear, nerve compression and CRPS.

Right became left and vice versa. I learnt to work with my left hand. Everything from brushing in the morning to chopping vegetables and cooking, I learned to do all of it with my left hand. I practised writing with my left hand. Most of the time, I laughed at my clumsiness, but sometimes I was depressed. I felt guilty for the trouble I gave to my family. I am not used to dependency.

Today after a long time, I feel a little better. My hand hurts a little less than usual. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. A million thanks to God for this day and for such a wonderful and supportive family and friends.