She soaked, buffed, filed and shaped my nails, all the while talking on about the weather. She massaged and rubbed while she talked about the way the clouds built up every day. She told me that you could almost tell the time of day by the weather.
I was grateful that she didn’t need for me to hold up my end of the conversation. I simply couldn’t do it. Not because I wasn’t interested in her discussion, she was after all a student of this. I just found myself in a strange case of being too tired. Too sluggish in some way.
My specialist had suggested a manicure as a means of soothing my sore hands and dealing with the mess that currently was my nails. I must confess the soaking, massaging and rubbing felt most wonderful. Pain was gently soothed and pushed out of my stiff fingers.
The buffing, shaping and filing helped deal with he deep ridges in my nails. These ridges that caused my nails to split in odd ways.
These things all seemed so nice, so pleasant and yet they were things I didn’t normally do. I wondered if this was now going to be a reality. That the software I was occasionally to take my words and turn them into text would become a daily necessity. I wondered how much more of me was going to be shaped, split, knotted, twisted, pulled and rubbed in my fight with lupus.
Perhaps in the end I will be boiled down to just the essence of who I am. As though everything else can be removed and peeled away. Maybe this happens to most people with chronic or fatal illnesses.
Perhaps, as we get older regardless of whether we are healthy or not we come into our essence. We strip away all the unnecessary image stuff and get comfortable with who we are. Then again it may be nothing more than a philosophical wish on my part. A means to explain the changes that lupus has brought. A means to allow myself to look less ill, rather a me and to still look like I’m not sick?