There are all sorts of things that freak me out about the lack of sensation on the right side of my body. I can't feel pain, for example--at least, not exactly. I don't feel surface pain, but I do feel pain past the surface. So when I sit there watching the phlebotomist stick needles into my arm to pull out vial after vial of blood, it just freaks me out. There's this bizarre disconnect between the moment of contact and the pain, like time-lapse or something. The needle has to move past the surface area and about a quarter inch into the vein, at which point it not only hurts like the dickens but also rather freaks me out because I don't seem to be feeling it at the right time. I've gotten so I can't watch.
I can't feel it when they bandage me up with that weird tight tape, either, and I often forget that I've been wrapped up. Some hours after the fact I'll notice my movement is restricted and I'll wonder why, and then I'll remember that my circulation has at that point been cut off completely for several hours and that my arm is probably on the verge of just falling off altogether.
Things like this worry me.
I can't register hot or cold well anymore. I can't feel pressure, especially if it sneaks up on me. This is a problem when the cat creeps up for a nap on me when I'm asleep. When I wake up there's this brief moment of disorientation while I try to figure out why I seem to be completely paralyzed. It's because the cat has waited for her opportunity to creep up and settle in, and by the time I wake up and notice something's wrong she is lying across me like a dead weight. I can't figure that out, though, until I try to force myself upright.
So holding things up with my right hand has become something of a trick. Picking things up is easy; holding them for more than 30 seconds is difficult. That's about how long it takes for the initial sensation of movement to disappear. It's safer to carry things with my left hand so I don't drop them. At the same time, though, I don't want to lose the knack of using my right hand. If I keep practicing I figure I won't lose the muscle memory. Maybe I'll even get good at it again some day.
I suppose the sensible thing would be to pick up items that, say, aren't full of boiling water if I mean to trot across the room with them.
But what would be the fun of that?
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I had the same "dead weight" experience with my cat when I was recovering. I'd wake up with tears streaming down my face until I realized he was sleeping on my freshly healed ankle. He also liked to stuff the sheets under me while snuggling so I'd wake up with a parlytic feeling in my leg too. sigh!
The best thing you can do with your hand is to practice and increase the increments and frequency with which you hold things. It' will be slow, but hopefully it will pay off!
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