Dept. of opposable thumbs

It's happened a couple of times. The first time, I was in my hotel room in California on a business trip. My hands, without provocation, cramped up in acute pain. After an hour or so, I decided I'd best get to the hospital. It took a long time to button my shirt. I waited eight hours in the ER before seeing a doctor who gave me a shot of Dilaudid. With the help of good friends who happened to be co-workers, I was able to make it back home within a day.
By the time I got to see a local doctor, the symptoms were subsiding. The rheumatologist concluded that it was likely a virus that triggered the severe symptoms. There were no last effects.
Except that it happened again this weekend. This time, we'd been working at the camp, doing the usual spring cleanup on that hot afternoon. I felt achy all over but attributed it to the bending and stretching necessarily to move stuff from here to there. My hands were sore, I thought, because I'd been stacking wood.
Within a couple of hours, though, it was much worse, such that I couldn't turn the key to shut off the car. The ibuprofen wasn't touching it. For a few hours, I was running a fever, but that settled back to my normal 97 by the time that The Best of The Kumars at No. 42 was over.
By morning, I was better. Most of the pain had settled its fury in my thumb joints. I still couldn't hold a pen, but I learned how to lift things without using my thumbs. I was able to get the lawn mower started. It was Sandra, however, who mowed the lawn. (You can add your own jokes here, but I'd much preferred to be out there pushing the mower.)
We wandered through the day capped by a nice visit from Lynn, Tess, and Cassie.
And now, while waiting for the storms to clear away this early season heat, I can also anticipate a return to normality. With some difficulty, I can write my name. I am hoping that I'll be able to operate the can opener when it comes time for Marley's breakfast. And, if not today, then tomorrow for sure.