I've Got an Itchy Trigger Finger

A few of weeks ago I woke up to this: 

Needless to say, I was a little freaked out. 

My finger was completely immobile, locked in the above position. After a few hours it loosened up and I could use it without any impediment.

What could it be, I thought. Christy and I started searching the Internet and in her trusty 'The Nature Doctor' book by A. Vogel (The founder of Bioforce). At the time we didn't know what it was so we entered 'claw hand' into Google but that is a completely different ailment, and not one that I would want, even worse than this. 

So what had changed in the past weeks, well other than uprooting ourselves across the Atlantic? We thought about my diet. I am a big sugar eater (I love my coffee sweet) and in Germany Christy convinced me to eat only organic raw sugar as the white stuff isn't really all that good for you, and I'd been eating spoonfuls of white sugar since we arrived. Perhaps that was it and we promptly went to Bulk Barn, about the only place to find reasonably-priced organic sugar in town. We had also been doing a lot of yard work since we arrived, so perhaps it was just overwork; we were not too far off with that suspicion.

About a week later I decided it was time to go see a doctor. I'm not to keen on seeing doctors but when you gotta go, you gotta go. Unfortunately, in rural Canada there is a shortage of doctors and after visiting and calling a few doctors' offices in town looking for an appointment to no avail, we were directed to call the hospital, as they have a list of available doctors. The good news was, they did, in fact, have the name of a doctor who was accepting new patients; the bad news was, the doctor was in Hubbards, a little over 70km away. Annoyed and deterred, I decided to give my finger a little more time to possibly work itself out.

As the week progressed, my useless finger was taking longer and longer to unclench itself, so we headed off to the local emergency room, which was an interesting experience in itself. They have an unique system at the local hospital's emergency room. We walked in and went to reception and I expected them, as every other time I have ever been to an emergency room in my life, to take my information, but no. We were directed to the emergency room and had to take a number, not unlike going to a deli. So I took a number and knocked on the door as directed by the tattered laminated piece of paper stuck to the wall, and waited, and waited, and waited. 

A lady who had arrived just prior to us was also a little perplexed as to what should happen next, so I suggested knocking again. Nothing. Finally, after being there for about 40 minutes the door slid open and a nurse took the lady to get her info. Bloody hell, I thought to myself, what if I, or the lady, had something serious, would anyone have noticed? After another 20 minutes or so the door slid open again and my number was called, number 8 if I remember correctly, and my info was taken and I was returned to the waiting room, wrist band in tow.

After the hour's wait just to get registered, we had no illusions of seeing a doctor quickly. Luckily, there was a TV with a David Attenborough show on, so at least we'd be entertained while we waited. Thankfully, I only had to wait another 45 minutes before my name was called and I was ushered into an examination room. The doctor was nice enough, a young guy, well about my age anyway, but he had no clue what the problem might be and advised me to see my family doctor. I explained that I had just moved here and the only one I could see was in Hubbards. He kind of chuckled and said that his doctor was even farther away. He prescribed some anti-inflammatory / pain killers, told me to see 'my doctor', and sent me on my way, no wiser as to what my problem was.

The next day I woke up with my left hand also getting in on the action - or lack of - with both my index and middle fingers curled up, but thankfully not to the degree as my original problem finger.

I figured that now was the time and I made an appointment with the doctor. I can't remember his name, but that's not a problem as I don't intend to see him again after the less than stellar consultation I had with him. I got my appointment for only a few days later and was at least happy I didn't have to wait for weeks to go.

Since the doctor was close to Halifax, we booked a meeting with a company which was interested in forming a partnership with us, and planned out some trips to some antique shops as not to 'waste' the trip and gas that went along with it.

After filling out some forms we saw our new doctor; Christy figured she might as well get registered at the same time as me. He was nice enough, but not what I was looking for in a doctor, as you will soon read. Upon seeing my hand, he instantly diagnosed it as 'trigger finger' with no further investigation and only told me to 'do some exercises' and gave me the option, if I wanted, to have surgery if it doesn't improve. We got into a discussion about diet and he asked ChristyChristy was a unthinking consumer of bad food. 

Now, Christy is about the most health conscious person I've ever had the pleasure to meet. Everything we eat is fresh, all pre-packaged food ingredients are thoroughly checked and if we see anything that doesn't look good (i.e. MSG or other chemical goodness) we pass on it. She uses a minimum amount of oil when cooking and all our meals have at least two veg, which sometimes annoys me. He then asked what I had for dinner the night before. 'Chicken and veg', I replied. 'Why chicken?', he then said. 'Because I like it', was the only reply I could think of under his increasingly critical eye. 'Why do you cook?', was his next question. I was starting to think that he was a fruitarian (not that there's anything wrong with that) and pictured him collecting fallen apples off the ground.

We left his office feeling like we had just been in some sort of health inquisition and other than finally knowing what I had, I didn't know what to do about it other than 'exercise' it. So, as all modern people do, we looked to the Internet for guidance and found a physiotherapist on YouTube who demonstrated three simple and effective exercises I could do to treat my condition. He was using this cool, fancy physio glove that I may buy if I'm not better in another month or so. 

Although I was thrilled to find something I could do myself to treat my trigger finger, I was annoyed that my doctor had simply said 'Do some exercises', with no further instruction as to what exercises I should do. I began my new exercise regiment in earnest and after a few days my finger started to improve a little, but I was still waking up with my fingers clenched and useless for hours afterwards.

I got a call from my mother and the final piece of my recovery regiment fell into place. She suggested wearing gloves to bed to keep my fingers warm. I wasn't sure I could fall asleep wearing gloves, but tried it. The next day I woke up, and presto, my fingers weren't clenched. They hurt a little but I could use them. It's been three days since my mother gave me her sage advice, and three days with no useless fingers to greet me at the start of my day.

Thanks Mom!

Post by Rob