Umm... You're Dripping
I’ve been considering getting an operation to cure my sweaty palms and feet. I have been struggling with it for as long as I could remember.
When I was a baby, my parents observed that on a hot day, when my head wasn’t sweating, it was my feet that would sweat and there were times that sweat would actually be dripping from my feet. If my feet were dry, it would be my head that would sweat. It is hereditary, but I am the only one in the family who must have grabbed this fine characteristic from the gene pool thinking it was all candy!
When I was old enough to go to school, I would wear socks, so my feet weren’t much of a problem (when sockless, I slip inside my footwear and develop blisters, when I wear socks in elementary, by socks would turn blue in my black school shoes) then but my hands still were. I would always bring with me a hanky. Clapping, giving high fives, shaking hands, holding hands and touching doorknobs or anything other people will surely be having contact with after, all made me uncomfortable. As well as the simple everyday stuff like carrying plastic covered books and even writing could get quite difficult for me at times. Imagine taking a quiz in elementary and your using Mongol #2 pencil. You soak the paper with your hands, and the test is under time pressure, you know the answer but your paper’s too wet to write on, you realize the last digit of your answer to your problem solving equation is wrong so you try to erase it, while doing so, you rip your paper, if I’m lucky, other times the paper just has this tiny hole. I just write letters or numbers around it.
When I got to high school and we were no longer using pencils but pens, I opted to use the sign pens. Try writing on wet paper with a ball point pen. The sign pen did the trick but you could find many pages on my notebooks with blotched ink. Well, it is better than invisible ink!
Growing up I always had close friends. I had best buddies every school year but I never grew close enough to be comfortable to give any form of affection. Even before I give hugs, (I usually am the recipient of hugs) or pat my friends backs while I comfort them when they cry or play with their hair (there was a time when my friends and I would braid each others’ hair during our lunch break) I would check my hands first. It became a habit for me to check, just so people I have contact with will not feel revolted.
I was an active kid growing up. I played sports, loved music and just loved to dance. I hated dances that involved holding hands. I tried rock climbing once; I had the grip powder with me the whole time, only to find that the powder just melted in my hands. It felt like milk on my hands instead of powder. The sport I absolutely enjoyed was track. I didn’t have to hold anything, and all you needed to do was run for your life! I learned to play the piano, the guitar and a little of the drums. I played the snare (LOL). With the piano, it was fine, just as long as I wiped the keys afterwards. I always had a piece of cloth beside me to my wipe my hands when I played the guitar. I was in a band for a while and I would hang my hanky on my guitars neck while I played. The strings of my guitar became rusty much quicker than they normally would, but since I wiped the guitar after I used it, the “shelf-life” was also a bit longer. When playing the drums even just beating on my bed sometimes while listening to music at home, my stick would slip off my hands and fly into the air. Believe me it still surprises me whenever it happens.
My hands sweat when it is hot or even when the weather is cold. My sweaty palms almost always get mistaken for nervousness. When I am excited, my hands sweat, when I am holding something for so long, my hands sweat. And when I say sweat, I mean they get really wet that sometimes, like for example during the summer, my hands would be dripping wet. I have to be with a hanky and tissues do not last very long with me.
During my teenage years, I would feel embarrassed by my sweaty hands, but as I grew older, I would find that there actually is no need for me to explain unless maybe when the person I’ve shaken hands with is clearly bothered by it. I would even tell some of them that it is a disorder. If the person I was explaining to has a disgusted look on his/her face, I would tell them it’s a disease just to spite them.
My husband quickly adapted to my sweaty hands. I pity him sometimes and even place a hanky inside my palm when we hold hands. When my hands are dry, most of the time, they’re very very warm. So when the weather is warm and my hands are dry, disaster! When it’s cold, and my hands are dry, my hands are usually cold too. Nobody’s getting much body heat from me, that’s for sure.
So that’s my dilemma. The cure for Hyperhidrosis is Endoscopic Thoracic Sympathectomy (ETS). The surgery’s sure as hell going to be expensive! Will I like losing this physical characteristic of mine which I think has very much influenced my character?
The bigger question is, when the need arises, will I be willing to not be able to give the most wicked bitch slap one could give with these “Almost-never-a-dry-moment” hands?
