Furthermore, the numbness in my hands had flared up again. So far today, I’d dropped my toothbrush, a bus token, a file folder, two pens, and a Life Saver. Once I got home from work, the notion of changing clothes for the restaurant overwhelmed me—a daunting prospect of zippers, laces, panty hose, and buttons. Also, I needed a shower. I swallowed hard against the half-digested lunch in my throat and started painstakingly unbuttoning my blouse. Since I couldn’t feel anything, I used my eyes to guide my fingers. I heard the front door slam, Ma’s quick steps, and she was framed in my doorway. She made the instant Anna-status assessment that reminded me of my software’s virus check when I booted up my computer. Only Ma was a lot more thorough. “Hands?” she said. I nodded. “Shoulder, too.” “Oh,” I said, and tried to stretch the muscle there. I hadn’t noticed that it had locked tight.
