My MS hands are learning to crochet.
My MS hands do not like to crochet.
They do not like to grip the hook. They do not like to hold the yarn.
They show their displeasure by stiffening up. Cramping and seizing up. Like lobsters held hovering over a boiling pot as the reality and inevitability of their fate sinks in.
Messing up the tension. Making progress painfully slow.
They do not care much for typing either. Well not for prolonged periods. Or for lots of writing. Or needlework.
They detest the peg test at the MS clinic and refuse to cooperate properly whilst the seconds on the stopwatch skip by.
They tolerate the teeny touch screen buttons on an iPhone. Poppers on baby grows. Butterfly backs on earrings. Small buttons.
They like to hold hands.
They enjoy manicures and wearing blingy decorations. Clutching soft leather handbags. The warmth from a mug of tea. The cool from an iced g&t.
They are fond of cooking as long as it doesn’t involve too much chopping.
They love to stroke the silky soft hair on bambino’s head as he drifts off to sleep.
They are clumsy. Knock things over. Drop things (luckily not bambino).
They are kept well moisturised in an attempt to avoid premature ageing.
They have a distaste for jars and bottles of the screw-top kind.
But most of all my MS hands detest pressing the plunger on the bingo dabber.
Even crochet isn’t that bad.