Living With Thoracic Outlet Syndrome as a Maker

What My Body Does (And Why Some Days Are Harder Than Others)

I mentioned in my last post that I'm recovering from a frozen shoulder, on top of something called thoracic outlet syndrome. I said I'd talk more about it another time. this is that post - not the whole story of how I got here, just what a day in this body actually looks like, and why it sometimes gets in the way of the work.

Thoracic outlet syndrome, in plain terms, means the nerves and blood vessels between my collarbone and first rib are getting squeezed. What that means for me, day to day, is that my pinky and ring fingers on both of my hands are numb pretty much all of the time. I get tingling that turns into something closer to a lightning shock running down my arm. My hands go purple more often than I'd like to admit.

The frustrating part is what sets it off. Not big dramatic things - just ordinary parts of my day. Working at the computer, washing dishes, digging in the garden, weeding, picking berries. Anything where my arms are working or my body's bent forward for too long. Which, if you know anything about making cards by hand, is most of what I do.

My body responds to the pain by tightening up to protect itself, except the tightening makes everything worse. The front pulls tight, which pulls my back tight, and by the end of most days the whole upper half of me is sore. I sleep with a hot water bottle most nights just to get my muscles to let go. On the harder days I'll take a muscle relaxant, but those come with a trade - they make me groggy, and getting up the next morning is its own kind of struggle. So mostly I just try to pace myself. Some days that's easier than others.

This is the part of why the gardening I wrote about last time has been slow going - a little digging each day instead of an afternoon of it. It's part of why some card-making days are shorter than I'd plant for, or why a pile of orders takes a bit longer to work through than it would otherwise. I'm not telling you this so it sounds like an excuse. I'm telling you because it's the truth of what running this alone actually looks like - not just the pretty parts. 🌱

​-Anita