“I looked at my hands, and they were new. I looked at my feet and they were too.“
The lyrics of this old gospel song come to mind when I look at the transition that my hands and feet are going through.
Chemotherapy often leads to Hand-Foot Syndrome, a condition that can affect the skin on my hands and feet. That means my skin darkens, becomes extremely dry, cracks, and peels. Despite careful skincare, emollients, and protective measures, the skin still breaks down.
I must endure it and let the treatment course run its course. No amount of moisturizer fully prevents the damage, and relief can be gradual.
At least I know once chemotherapy is over, my hands will gradually recover and look almost brand new.
The process isn’t painful.
However, it is frightfully ugly.
Last year, while I was still in the hospital, one of the nurses examined me. She stopped to take a picture of the bottoms of my feet. I didn’t think anything of it because I couldn’t see what she was seeing. But later, when I was released and staying with my sisters, one of them came into my room and began rubbing lotion on my feet. I have to chuckle to myself now because it was so random. I think the condition of my feet must have worried her.
Then I saw the picture of my feet and I understood the concern. What a sight!
Do you remember when we were kids and we put glue on our hands to dry?
Then we peeled it off to make a hand mold.
That tight, heavy feeling of the glue mirrors what I felt on my hands last week. My fingers felt heavy and in the way.
Now they are cracking and peeling, and I am actually grateful for the change. The new pink skin is starting to show through on my hands. My feet will take longer, but the process is moving along.
Chemotherapy brings some unexpected experiences. Some are difficult. However, some are downright ugly, and some leave you shaking your head, wondering what your body is doing.
Recovery and self-care notes
This is one of those times when I must remind myself. What I see now is not necessarily what I will see forever.
For now, I’ll keep moisturizing. I’ll be patient with my body, and wait for the new skin to emerge.
And I’ll start singing another old gospel song: “A change, a change has come over me.”