Since before Christmas, I've had problems with my left hand, but remained silent. Last month, it finally became so bad that I couldn't tolerate it anymore, and I decided to consult a physical therapist. I didn't go to a doctor at first, because I had to find out if I could be fixed. This wasn't ordinary aches. This was pain that made it hurt to close my hand, hurt to hold a hair brush, and worse yet, it hurt to do anything with my cello... from holding the bow to doing anything on the fingerboard.
I had already been seeing a physical therapist in the past for a knee injury at work, so I had a good relationship with one, and knew I wanted to go and work with her again. I called her office and set an appointment, then I hung up the phone... and I cried. I sobbed. I begged and pleaded... Oh, God, please don't let this be arthritis. The fear was nearly as crippling as the pain. It was the first time I didn't go anywhere near my cello to play. I'd stare at him, touch his shoulder, but I didn't dare pick him up out of his stand. I couldn't pick him up out of his stand. The sheer thought of the possibility of arthritis ending my cello career before it had even begun was agonizing, and wouldn't let me practice.
I was terrified.
The next morning, I woke up and tried to make a fist. The pain in my hand was intense... a dull, throbbing ache that turned into searing heat as I closed my fingers. I took a deep breath and got out of bed, then got into the shower and just let the warmth sink in. It felt good on my hand, and enabled me to get ready a little easier. As the pain receded, I washed my hair and finished up, pulling on my clothes and getting my car keys. As I drove to the therapist's office, it was ice cold outside, and the sky was a dull grey. My hand throbbed as I held the steering wheel... the pain worsening with every mile. I was nearly in tears as I turned into the parking lot, although the tears weren't solely from the pain in my hand as much as the pain in my heart, fearing the worst.
I walked into the office, and my therapist greeted me with a warm smile. She remembered me from before, which instantly made me feel better. I mustered a smile as she hugged me and I sat down to talk with her. I filled out the questionnaire asking what had brought me to the clinic, then began discussing the problem with my therapist. I told her about my dreams as an aspiring cellist, and that I knew the cello had something to do with my problem, although I wasn't entirely certain of why I was in so much pain. She took measurements of my flexion, extension, range of motion, and then gently started to manipulate my hand and wrist. She worked further up my arm and took measurements of my elbow, agreeing that I had lost mobility.
At the end of the visit, she gave me a couple of stretches to do, and told me that she didn't feel anything that would indicate arthritis, but rather that the muscles in my arm were in a spasm, knotted to the point that they were drawing the tendons and ligaments in my wrist and hand backward so tightly that it was causing pain in my joints. I had a few calcifications on my wrist bones to further indicate that the problem wasn't really in my hand, but in my forearm and the muscles that support my hand. We scheduled another appointment for the next week and I thanked her, and headed for my car.
I sat down in the car, and I smiled. I thanked God, and I sobbed... again. It was the best possible news I could have hoped for, and what was better yet... it was fixable.
A month later, I'm still working with my physical therapist. I still have days where I wake up in pain, but now that pain is far less, and I have many more pain-free mornings. What's more amazing is that my cello-playing has improved drastically. I still have to remind myself to release my death-grip on the fingerboard during intense practice sessions, but I have come to realize that my posture has improved, my hands move more freely, and I'm better able to control my intonation as a result. As things continue to improve, I look forward to my playing becoming freer, and progressing even faster. My physical therapist wants me to bring my cello next week so she can start tailoring my exercises to my movements better.
All I know is that she has given me renewed hope in my future as a cellist.... so that I can continue to grow and help you because...
Happy Cello'ing!