Welcome to Gaia! ::

I slipped into the cramped confines of what I generously referred to as the bathroom in my apartment. Halting at the sink, I reached for the faucet, turning the rusty knob slowly with my right hand. I watch the water dribble into the basin of the sink and down the drain.

With painstaking care, I peel the glove off my left hand. The scent always makes my stomach flutter as it drifts up to my nose. A very unpleasant combination of blood, sweat, dirt and other grim that gets trapped in spandex and synthetic leather that clings constantly to my skin.

I take a few deep breaths before I can force myself to look down at it. The skin is hard, discolored to an orangy brown and somehow waxy looking. There are cracks in places, that reveal a layer of red and more vulnerable flesh below. The hand is leaner then it should be, as if someone had widdled away chunks of skin and muscle with a vegetable peeler. In places like the knuckles, you can see far to much bone.

It's still revolting, but at least its getting better.

I stick the disfigured hand into the running water, letting the dead skin soak some much needed moisture. As always, I'm disturbed by the lack of sensation, because the water is ice cold and yet I can't even feel it till it splashes the skin above my wrist.

I grab the special extra moisturizing soap I use to clean it off the lip of the sink. I always shiver when I stick my right hand under the water. I scrub hard and usually drop the soap into running water at least once. It takes maybe two minutes to do a good job.

I turn off the water in the sink and reach over to where I keep the towels, on top of the tank of the toilet and dry it off. When I'm done, I examine the inside of the glove to find a whole lot of dead skin. I can never bring myself to clean the gloves, because it would mean having to look at the hand for a few hours while it dries, so I wear them till they're filthy and then throw them away. I decide its time to retire this one and toss the glove into a trash basket by the sink.

I grab a new package, there are about four of them wedged behind the faucets of the sink and the wall, and I open the package with my teeth, spitting bits of plastic into the sink. I use batting gloves because they're cheep and the feaux leather grips on them make it easier on my mangled fingers to grab things. The wrapper and the right hand glove are dumped into the trash as well.

There's a slight sense of relief when I put the new glove on. It takes a lot of concentration and patience, but I flex the fingers slowly. I still can't close them into a fist, but I've made a lot of progress since the injury.

I clean the sink quickly and turn the light off when I leave the bathroom. Eagerly looking for something or anything to take my mind off the hand.