Out of Touch

The deafening ringing in my ears seemed to be louder than my own thoughts. I knew something was wrong, but not this wrong. The pasty pale white walls surely couldn’t compare to what my face must look like right now. I peer down to see my wife’s delicate hand that is now grasping my callused palm. I hear her quivering voice ask, “Are you alright Greg?” I quickly blink back the tears and swallow the lump in my throat nodding, “Yes honey lets head home.” We walk down the haunting hallways of the hospital out into the crowded parking lot. Getting in the car I buckle in, hearing a tap on my window I turn my head to see my dear wife, she opens the door and quietly suggests “Maybe it is best if I drive.” I didn’t even realize I had by habit gotten in the driver’s seat. Quickly making my way to the passenger’s seat, she soon begins to drive as my mind begins to race. The doctor seemed so sure that I would rapidly loose the rest of the feeling in my hands as he diagnosed me with Multiple Sclerosis. How could my life ever be the same? I can’t even handle driving for my pregnant wife. And what about when our son arrives? I will never be able to feel his tiny little hand in mine or know the softness of my wife’s skin again. As I think about how this all first began, I wonder how something so casual as touch can take someone’s world and completely obliterate it.

That morning seemingly started as any other, I woke up ready to start the day by working on my carpentry projects. I noticed both my hands were slightly tingling with numbness but just shrugged it off to me accidentally sleeping on them the wrong way. I cooked breakfast for my wife then began to get to work in the garage. I own a carpentry business that sales handmade custom home items. But as of lately I had been working on a special project. My wife Angie is pregnant with our first child and I am planning on surprising her with a customized oak wood baby crib and rocking chair. I got to work carving the wood as the muggy air clung to my skin like a second set of clothes. Sawdust fluttered all around me like snow as I molded the frame of the rocking chair. As I wipe a bead of sweat off my forehead, I realize that numb feeling in my hands still has not gone away. Curiously I poke at my pale palm trying to make sense of the odd sensation. I went on about the day trying to ignore the still small voice in the back of my head that whispered something was wrong. The days flew by as my progress on my projects increased and the feeling in my hands decreased. It began to become more and more difficult to do basic everyday things such as buttoning my shirts or simply writing accurately with a pen or pencil. I didn’t want Angie to worry so I made sure to keep this situation to myself, that was until one day she used my phone and saw one of safari tab’s I had open. Let’s face it, whenever something doesn’t feel right who doesn’t try to find the solution on google? And long story short, that’s how I ended up here, in the car, with my pregnant wife driving us home from the doctors when it should be me caring for her.

“Greg we are home” she states. I wake up from thoughts and realize we are in the driveway and the car is already turned off. I turn to her and caress her face and slightly feel the dampness of tears as I wipe them away. “It’s okay Angie, we are going to be alright” I muster out. “But honey, the doctor said you won’t be able to continue carpentry soon, or at least at the same level that you do now and that’s what you love to do” she sobbed. Taking a deep breath, I grab her hands “Yes, I love carpentry, but you know what I love more than that? You. As long as I have you, I can get through anything. Come on let’s not waste time and go inside.” I began to cherish every touch and every varying texture that I could get my hands on to engrave in my memory as much as I could. I began to spend more and more of my time in the garage fixated on finishing the crib and rocking chair before Angie gave birth. I woke up to make breakfast as the delivery date was soon approaching and that meant super cravings and trust me it was smarter to be ahead of the hunger than find out by a hangry wife. As I was cooking, she walks in the kitchen gives me a kiss and sits on the barstool. We begin to discuss potential names for the baby when she suddenly screams my name. “What!” I shout as I look at her in confusion. She points to the cast iron skillet as I look down and see my bare hands holding the scalding hot handle unaware of it burning my hand. “Well, at least I’m not in pain” I jokingly say as she comes to doctor me up. She playfully hits my arm as she chuckles back “Well I bet you felt that! You have to be more careful Greg.” Just as she said that I noticed something wet next to my feet, we both look down and then back up unto each other’s eyes, her water broke!

“AAAAAHHHHHH!” followed by sharp breathings and heartbeats beeping pierced my ears for each contraction. “You can do it babe! Come on squeeze my hand when the contraction comes again.” Her rough breathing subsided, “No I don’t want to hurt your- oh.” She stopped mid-sentence. I gaze at her giving her a sly smile and let her know that even if I did have feeling in my hands, I doubt her slim hands would do too much damage. Time sped by and before we knew it, we were meeting our son, Benjamin. Holding him in my arms and staring into his big brown eyes I felt more than I have every been able to feel with my hands. His eyes seemed to speak to me, heart to heart as he gazed up into my tearful eyes. Soon we were discharged to go home, it had been a long journey, but Angie did so well, and we were blessed to have a perfect healthy son. Back home I opened the door to the nursery and there in the corner sat Benjamin’s crib alongside of the rocking chair in which Angie was holding our son singing him a lullaby. She glances up at me and smiles with a smile that brightened the whole room, I felt that smile in my innermost being. In that moment looking at them, I knew that whatever human touch I may have lost I gained so much more. I feel a touch by a heartwarming smile, a loving look, or even a sweet hello from a stranger. Feeling isn’t just feeling, but it’s a feeling you feel inside. So, look for those moments, those instances where you not only get to feel from the outside, but more importantly on the inside and hold on to that feeling and never let it go.