Disease of the Month

I will never not love this picture

OBX Dave opened the door for us when he wrote of his cardiac maladies. Or maybe it was Whit describing the bout with MRSA that made him locally famous. Locally more famous, I suppose. And I can't forget Shlara beating breast cancer. Fucking cancer. 

The fact of the matter is that none of us are getting any younger, and the bodies that we've counted on for decades are showing us in myriad amusing and not-so-funny ways that they're likely not engineered to last forever. So we're starting this series to push back on the inevitable, to demystify the multiple ways our meat prisons are likely to fail us. 

Twenty years ago, give or take, I was playing softball on a cold October evening. As I stood at second base, I noticed my left hand growing slowly numb. I was wearing a batting glove under my fielder's glove, so I didn't have time to investigate. But after the inning ended, I removed my equipment to find all four fingers drained of color, bone white and absent of any feeling. 

That was a bit off-putting.

Not my hands, but they could be

I went on the Ghooghles when I got home that evening and did a bit of self-diagnosis. Turns out I likely had - and still have - something called Reynaud's Syndrome. It's fairly common. So common, in fact, that it was the subject of an article in today's Washington Post, which claims that 5-10% of all Americans suffer from it.

For the significant majority of the Reynaud's-afflicted, the malady is far more annoying than dangerous. Primary Reynaud's is unconnected with any other disease, and presents as discoloration and numbness of the digits in cold conditions. Secondary Reynaud's, though, accompanies a range of autoimmune diseases, and can lead to some nasty complications, including amputation. So I'm thankful that mine is the "good" kind.

"Cold" in the paragraph above really isn't a precise enough descriptor. In my case, and that of many others, it's a relative thing. Certainly, when the temps dive, my piggies are very likely to go numb. Outdoor sporting events in the winter and its shoulder seasons can be miserable - there aren't enough gloves to keep my hands warm and feeling while coaching an 8:30 am soccer game in November. But it's going to be 99 degrees here today, and when I come back into the air conditioning this afternoon from mowing the lawn, my fingers are gonna turn white for a few minutes. 

Weep not for me, though. Reynaud's, while weird, doesn't augur any danger to my person. If I wanted to lessen its impact, doctors tell me I should drink less coffee. I need the caffeine more than I need to feel things with my fingers. Good thing I'm not a watchmaker, I suppose.

Ghod does have a sense of humor, at least where it comes to our bodies.