I have always considered my hands a little square...no good for playing a musical instrument. I have very active hands. They paint, garden, cook, take photographs, page turning, shepherding dogs and so many other things. I am right handed but slightly ambidextrous.
Sometimes, when I look at my hands, I can see my Mother's hands and I don't like it.
I rarely wear nail polish as I have no patience for the drying process. I always end up with a nice smudge on one or two nails. The paint is always chipping off, so I usually skip this luxury.
My Mother was always aghast at my nails. She was always trying to shame me into painting them. She used to file her nails in the car all of the time. To this day, I cannot tolerate having my nails files. Does this make me less a "girl"?
I love to wear rings, but only when I am in public. I have a gold signet intaglio ring that is my favorite. The stone is a garnet ( red) . The goddess Demeter / Ceres is carved into the stone.It is an estate piece that is dated 1855. I bought this ring on lay away when I lived in New York City. It was the first ring I bought that was worth anything. I paid $800 for it. It took me about 6 months to pay it off ( 1980's).
This ring is my good luck charm for when I travel. I always were it when I fly.
I have had my palm read a few times...Always good. I have a very long life line. I might have had 2 children according to the lines.
My Mother had arthritis as did my Grandmother, her Mother. I am fortunate to have escaped that disease.
When I was about 14, I shattered the little disc bone between my thumb and the first finger on my left hand. I was in girls camp ( Marian Lodge on Pyramid lake in the Adirondacks) and looking for some kind of trouble to get into. That night, the counselors had their big blow out of the season party.
I was rearranging my bunk area when I saw a big nail sticking out of the wall. Somehow, a hammer appeared and I pulled and pulled to try to get the nail out. Eventually, I put both feet up on the wall, pulled as hard as I could and the nail popped free. I went down, landing on the hard wood floor on my palm, shattering this little bone. (not sure wheic bone it was...it was exactly.) Yeow but this hurt. I knew I hurt myself, but I didn't think I broke anything.
I made the counselor aware...she was more concerned with getting ready to go to the party. There were boys at this party, maybe only 5 compared to 50 or so female counselors. The competition was steep.
They parties and I writhed in pain all night. One of them would come to check on me and say...it's nothing...don't be a baby. No one wanted to have to deal with me and my medical emergency when there was partying to be had. Meanwhile, my hand swelled up 2x its normal size.
In the morning, they were all hung-over, but at that point, they could see that I needed to have it looked at. I was marched to the infirmary to see the nurse. She was seething with anger in my direction...She was hung over and having to take me into Ticonderoga to the hospital to the emergency room. She kept calling me a baby and just generally giving me a hard time for making her life harder.
After the Xray, the doctor called us in and told me that I had broken a bone in my hand. My knees gave and I slipped to the floor.
Being a swimmer, this was a hard blow. They put a cast on my left hand...to midway up my arm.
Swimming was my main thing. I was taking a Water Safety Instructor Course, I was teaching beginning swimming, I was preparing a synchronized swimming routine for a camp spectacular to the Stephen Stills Song "To A Flame"
( sounded aquatic to me! gorgeous song. )
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=71vltdxuzYg
That was the end of it all. I could get in the water, but I had to hold my hand up with a plastic bag on it.
It was a good thing I was a strong swimmer and could at least do this.
My parents took their time coming up to the camp to see me...then made the decision that I would stay for the rest of the summer. I wanted to go home. There was no way they were going to let me interfere with their summer. I think I had that cast for 6 itchy months.
In the same area, I have a V shaped scar. There was a small black poodle looking dog tied out in front of the super market on Lexington when I lived on East 89th Street. I bent down to pet the dog and it sunk it's nasty little teeth into my hand.
Once, while skiing at Alpine Meadow's in the Lake Tahoe area, I fell on a very steep slope and thought I broke something in my wrist. I went to the infirmary at the ski area and had an ex ray. The man that was giving me the ex ray was too rough and I just let him have it. I was annoyed that I had fallen as I had not wanted to go down this slope in the first place. It was a big wide, steep bowl. I was guilted into going and sure enough I fell...and here was this man causing me more pain and I just blew up. They gave me a sedative and put a soft cast on me...again, the left hand. On the way home, I called my father. This was not long before he died. I had wanted some love and sympathy from him, but there was none to be had from him that day. Very dad to think about.
I was to see a doctor at home in 3 weeks. When I saw the doctor, they re ex rayed and said, I just sprained it, it's not broken.
Did I pay for my anger by having to wear a cast for no reason? I ended up not having to pay for the services at the ski area...
So there is all that I can think of that might be of any interest regarding my hands. Now look at your own and see your story.
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