Brief medical history

Nine years ago, I ran track for the first and last time in my life. I loved it - loved running the 400 and the 4X400. I was decent, receiving red or blue ribbons most of the time. I usually limped around during the cool down, however, because of this strange arthritic pain in the balls of my feet. After many trips to the bone doctor in town, we discovered it was, in fact, bunions. I was a month away from surgery when I pulled the plug. It was so expensive and the chances of it returning were too high.

Eight years ago, I began to have trouble with my knees. My joints felt like all of the cartilage was dissolving with every volleyball practice and game. Visited the same bone doctor, had multiple x-rays. My left knee had an extremely painful, yet mostly numb-ish feeling spot. There was swelling and excruciating pain. Nothing ever came of those doctor's visits. I wouldn't give up my sport; I wouldn't "take it easy." The doctor obviously didn't know me or my coach.

Six years ago, I was forced to seek therapy for the muscle pain in my shoulders and back. I was wound tighter than brand new grandfather clock. There is no surgery to help that. It was my stress, my sports (I'd added tennis to the mix), my choices (piano, computers, weight lifting).

That same year, my right shoulder, elbow, and wrist/hand began to develop odd symptoms of numbness followed by severe bouts of acute pain, swelling, and weakness. The massage therapist suggested it could be the beginnings of bursitis, tendonitis, and carpal tunnel, but she swore she'd work hard (if I did as well) to hold off the full development.

I continued to see her through college, traveling home more often than the average student just to get relief from the fire, numbness, and daggers that plagued the right, and increasingly the left also, side of my body.

Two years ago, I broke my right ring finger during the first play of the first game of Spring flag football at school. I went to a new bone doctor to see about fixing it up, and decided to ask him about my hands, as the symptoms had rendered me nearly useless as far as having fun and at times doing normal things. When holding books to read for classes or for fun became too excruciating, I decided I needed help. I'd wake up at night moaning and crying at the throbbing of my wrists, which had spent every night bound in braces for four years at that point.

A year and four months ago, I underwent surgery on the nerve casings in my right hand. There was a 5-10% recurrence rate.

I tried to take care of my hands. I gave up piano. I quit lifting weights; I quit all sports but running and pilates and Tae Bo (sometimes even it was too much). But I'm a student, and a computer junkie on top of it. I want to be a librarian.

So here I am--a year and four months later, popping pills and praying to God for some relief--the fingers of my right hand are purplish-blue every day.

And I'm how old? 62, oh right.