This post is brought to you by my interrupted dinner prep.
I was cutting up chicken from the fridge. I pulled the tenderloin cuts onto the small cutting board with one hand and chopped with the other. It was barely five minutes but I felt a dreaded – but familiar – feeling in my left hand.
My fingertips were bright red and stinging from the exposure to the cold meat. While this isn't factual to how Raynaud's works, my fingers would soon threaten to swell until the skin was taught. That's how it feels. Like my skin could crack open if I move them too much.
I desperately run warm water over my hands, hoping to get immediate relief. I've had this last for hours before. It eases but only as long as it's under the warm stream. Otherwise, it starts to echo a new sort of discomfort.
Have you ever gotten into a hot shower and your feet are super sensitive to the temperature? It's like that.
My body aches in the clash of cold and warm as my cells are overestimated and uncertain.
I sit with the discomfort, a tingle in my fingertips as I season the diced pieces before putting them in a pan. The pan is preheated and insults the chicken with a tissssk.
The meat cooks and I rinse off the knife and cutting board, before letting them thunk against the metal basin.
I let another pot get to a boil before I add in Minute-Rice. As it boils, I let my hand linger in the steam. Please, make it go away.
I watch the steam whirl around my skin and in between my fingers. I sigh, feeling a little more relief than before. It's something my mom used to do for me in the winter. I could never be in the snow long once I was a teen. After holding snowballs and the ice water soaking into the gloves, I had to go home in ten minutes. My hands ached and she held my hands over a pot of boiling water — a fool-proof fix. I'd never heard of anyone else having that experience.
Tonight, my hand returned to normal by the time it was time to eat.
On an average day, I’m barely at room temp. I'm happiest in blankets and loose sweaters as I lounge around my apartment. My dog is also my lovable little space heater. She's happiest under blankets and curled in my lap. Even when our AC was broken last spring, she insisted on sleeping under the covers tucked against my legs.
Growing up, I would smile as people would gasp and remark about my cold hands. I thought it was a * feature *, but it was obviously poor circulation and likely signs from the beginning that Raynaud's was lurking in my DNA.
Even at a friend's Bachelorette party, the rain was cold on my skin as I helped pull the hot tub cover off and lingered on the edge as I rolled up my leggings. There was a point when I looked down and my arms were red and covered in raised white dots. That was the biggest flare-up I'd ever had. That was two months ago.
The first time I knew something was wrong was in early 2022, on my way to work in the last few months of college. I was doing the routine of bringing a milkshake along on my walk. My hand stung as I sat at the gallery desk, revealing my palm and fingers to be that fiery red and my nerves biting at each other.
A friend was with me. Luckily, my task for the day was to answer questions and log visitors into the attendance sheet. They kept me company and did their best to reassure me.
Some of my fingers had small light spots among the red, and I was uneasy as the minutes passed and it never changed. It felt like my fingers were swollen balloons. It lasted for nearly two hours. I wondered if I was having an allergic reaction.
My official diagnosis wouldn't come until a year later, after repeated patterns of flare-ups during the winter and around cold cups/water exposure. One of my aunts told me she had it after I mentioned my symptoms, and even my mom texted me one day with pale fingers after exposing them to cold water.
After a few minutes of talking to a doctor, he confirmed that it was Raynaud's. Raynaud's is something I'd never heard about before, and can happen for a few reasons. Some people get the same physical reaction I have due to stress (I have a friend who can attest to that) but otherwise it's the cold. The exposed skin can turn blue, red, or pale your skin. Seeing “Raynaud's (no gangrene)” on my medical chart made me relieved but also pale at the thought of how it's basically hypothermia risk if it gets severe…
Now, I have to actually look at forecasts in the fall and spring to make sure I don't need my gloves. If it's below 50°, it's either layer up or be miserable for at least 30 minutes after I get back inside.
All cold beverages must be in a coozie/sleeve of some sort — or wrapped in napkins/paper towels as a last resort.
As the weather gets cold, HotHands live in my bag with the same importance of gum and tampons. My roommate saved me with those one winter, and I held them like I'd been given a sacred item.
So, a fun way to think about this: I am now Goldilocks. Everything has to be “just right.”
Shout out to other people with Raynaud's. To those who don't, throw so many snowballs for me and enjoy the cold cup in your hand on a hot day.