I received these two lovely voicemails from “Donna” at work today. Actually, they came in on our Cincy Lifestyle line — not my personal extension — so everyone on the CL team got to enjoy them, too.
I’m not sure what exactly “Donna” means by “fixed,” but apparently the shape of my deformed digits was so triggering for her, she felt the need to call my place of employment — twice.
I don’t know if “Donna” thinks I’m just going to pop down to the “hand store” later this afternoon to pick up some new ones, or just go ahead and pop on some new fingers over the weekend, but, well, that’s not exactly how it works.
Out of all the changes to my body that I’ve had to endure — from my hips (both replaced in December 2013) and knees (both replaced 15 months later in February 2015) to my collapsed and deformed ankles and feet (they’re still on the “waiting list” to be addressed some time in the future…) my HANDS are the one thing that has affected me the most.
See, before I starting working on-camera and dealing with lazy, ignorant couch potatoes like “Donna,” I played music for a living. Music has always been a HUGE part of my life — and an essential component of who I am as a person.
I have a recording of myself from when I was just four years old laying out what I planned to do with my life — “I’m gonna be on TV.” “I’m gonna be on the stage.” “I’m gonna sing and dance and talk in the microphone.” I also mentioned something about having a mustache and a beard, but that’s another story…
After our difficult journey to conceive our precious Lola Jean, the ONE THING that affected me more than anything else was watching my hands change before my very eyes.
Thankfully, I was never classically trained in piano — so my hands somehow still manage to go where they need to go. I don’t really know how, but I’ve been blessed with the ability to still be able play — and for that, I will always be grateful.
So keep in mind, “Donnas” of the world — these aren’t just the crooked hands you see on TV or online. These are the hands that hold my children. These are the hands that I use to make music.
And I can assure you that, although it might look a little different to you, there’s one finger in particular that’s pointed in your general direction… (and if that doesn’t work, thankfully, I’m Italian — I know ALL KINDS of gestures that can get my point across…) 🤌
God bless you and your ignorance, “Donna.” If you’d like (and I’m sure you won’t) I encourage you to read a previous post about my hands: https://psnevergiveup.com/?p=1545
Or my feet: https://psnevergiveup.com/?p=1611
Or this guest blog I did for my friends at the Arthritis Foundation on being a Dad with RA: https://www.arthritis.org/news/men-and-family-memories
I was told once by a rheumatologist that my natural hands — as strange as they may look — will always be stronger than any replacement parts. So no, “Donna,” I won’t be fixing my hands. But maybe you can fix your ignorance.
#PSNeverGiveUp
