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“They’re more than a little sore,” Layla said and looked to the doctor. “Sometimes she has trouble holding things, and she drops things, too.”
What the hell???“Mom!” Alanna bit out. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”
“I…” her mother looked away again. “It wasn’t a big deal. My hands have always ached.”
“Well, Dede, osteoarthritis can be a big deal, especially when it’s as advanced as yours.” Dr. Deshpande pulled up a chair next to the bed.
“Osteoarthritis is a very common condition,” he explained. “It happens when the cartilage between the joints deteriorates. Without that cushioning, the joints become increasingly damaged over time.”
“She used to clean houses,” Alanna said. “Is that the cause?”
“There is a genetic component, which you and your sister should be aware of,” Dr. Deshpande responded. “But, yes, repetitive motions, like housework, could be a cause. We usually don’t see such an advanced case in someone just reaching their 60s, so the housecleaning could explain it.”
Alanna ground her teeth. As if her mother hadn’t already been through enough, cleaning other people's toilets for meager wages. Now, after her mother had finally built a stable life for herself, she had to deal with wrecked hands. Alanna wanted to punch the universe in its nut sack for all the shit it’d rained down on her family.
But nut sack punching, as satisfying as it may be, wouldn’t solve anything. She squared her shoulders. “How do we fix it?” she asked the doctor.
“Can I still work?” her mother added. “I have a part-time job at the Cactus Blossom.”
Part-time? Technically that was true, but Alanna knew her mother practically lived at the colorful plant nursery. It was everything the owner, Jeannie, could do to get their mother to leave after her shift.
“My mother-in-law loves that place,” Dr. Deshpande said. “She won’t buy her plants anywhere else.”
Dede smiled. “Your mother-in-law is a smart woman.” She smoothed her hospital gown again and her smile disappeared. “And can I garden?” The question was a whisper.
Dr. Deshpande gave her a gentle look surely honed from years of practice. “I can’t tell you what to do,” he answered. “That will be up to you to decide based on your symptoms.”
“How. Do. We. Fix. It?” Alanna pronounced each word slowly. The idea of her mother suffering revved her protective instincts into overdrive. She might not be as soothing and compassionate as Layla, but she sure as hell could solve problems.
“There’s really no way to reverse osteoarthritis,” Dr. Deshpande told Alanna. “All we can do is manage the symptoms. As your mother mentioned, the main symptoms are pain and stiffness. Swelling, loss of sensation, and tenderness under pressure are all common as well. It might have even contributed to her fall if she couldn’t keep her grip on the banister. Dede, I’d like you to give your primary care doctor a call and request a referral to a rheumatologist. That’s a doctor who specializes in all types of arthritis. The rheumatologist will be able to develop a treatment plan for you.”
As the doctor discussed treatment options, Alanna took furious notes on over-the-counter anti-inflammatories, physical therapy, steroid injections, and surgery as a last resort.
“Mom, we’ll call your doctor today and get that referral,” she told her mother. This, at least, was an action item. Alanna lived for action items.
Dr. Deshpande advised Dede to keep her brace on for two weeks. After he left with a warm goodbye, a nurse entered with a printed sheet of recommended wrist exercises. She showed their mother how to perform each exercise while Alanna recorded the demonstration on her phone.
The nurse left, and Layla gently helped their mother back into her clothes.
“Jeannie told me to take off as much time as I need,” their mother said, “but do you think I can go back to work tomorrow?”
“I don’t know, Mom. Seems kind of soon,” Layla said.
“Absolutely not,” Alanna added. “You could injure your wrist more.”
“I’ll just work the cash register,” their mother said. “I won’t lift anything, I promise.” She gave Alanna a gentle smile. “You always worry so much.”
Alanna watched her sister pull a cotton blouse over their mother’s head and gently tug it down.
“I’ll bring you home, Mom,” Layla said. She glanced at Alanna, a cautious hope in her eyes. “Would you like to come with us?”
Yes.The word floated from her soul, a parched seedling in desperate need of water. But something compelled Alanna to glance at her phone.Shit.It was already past three. She had over 100 emails piling in her inbox, 30 texts, and 11 voicemails.
“I can’t,” she said. “I’ve got a lot to catch up on at the office. We’re doing a big press circuit with one of our CEOs next week.”
“Of course.” Layla’s smile wavered. “I shouldn’t have asked. I know how busy you are.”
“But I’ll get that referral to the rheumatologist,” Alanna quickly added and caught her mother’s eyes. “Just send me your insurance info and your primary care doctor’s number.”
