In the absence of any other proof, the thumb alone would convince me of God’s existence,” eminent 17th-century English physicist, Sir Isaac Newton, is reported to have said.

The thumb’s unique ability of “opposition” enables it to touch or move toward the fingertips so our hands can grasp objects. What would we do without it?

But when our basal (base) thumb joint has lost its protective cartilage, the bone-rubbing-on-bone pain is excruciating, prompting some of us to wonder what we’re going to do with it.

In August 2016, I had a total right hip replacement due to what my primary care doctor calls “degenerative joint disease” (arthritis). Aug. 30, 2017, I underwent another joint surgery, an “arthroplasty,” or reconstruction of my left thumb basal joint.

Though the latter operation isn’t considered the major surgery a hip replacement is, that one is presenting me with a more tricky recovery.

The trouble, however, has had little to do with medical issues: I’m a southpaw, which means my dominant hand will be of little use to me for weeks yet. (I was walking within days of my hip replacement.)

If August surgeries appear to be a habit for me, it’s one I absolutely intend to break — FORTHWITH. I’m not willing, though, to give up all I’ve gained along the way.

I knew pretty much what to expect with the most recent surgery, as the same orthopedic surgeon had performed the same operation on my right basal thumb joint five years earlier. And, I hasten to add, I’ve been extremely happy with the results.

Reconstruction project

Amazingly, each thumb joint reconstruction was accomplished by removing some bone, then “rebuilding” the joint using a tendon from that forearm. I’m just a couple of weeks past the last surgery on the left, but I can say that my right arm has suffered no problems noticeable to me for having “donated” the tendon to the nearby thumb joint.

My left thumb/hand was much more painful than the right one before surgery, likely because the problem with the right one was coincidentally discovered earlier in the degeneration process by x-rays taken before carpal tunnel surgery.

But at least I knew (mostly) what to expect regarding the immediate part of the recovery period this time around. That includes sporting a wrapped splint for two weeks that reaches from about three inches below my elbow to just below my knuckles, in which the thumb is completely immobilized.

It’s a bit of an improvement from the splint on my right arm five years earlier that extended to the very tips of my fingertips, rendering the rest of that hand’s digits of no use whatsoever.

Assuming all went well the day before this column appears in The Vidette, the splint will have been replaced with a cast that I’ll wear for four more weeks.

A wake-up call

I’d worked diligently to get everything at home ready for this latest “adventure;” after all, I was a veteran patient who wasn’t heading into the unknown completely. But having been on my own for years had apparently lulled me into not quite thinking through how different this recovery period would be from the one following the arthroplasty on my non-dominant hand.

The morning after I’d proudly — if exhaustedly — made my last foray “to town(s)” for every last thing I thought I’d need, I was shocked awake by the realization I’d not really thought of “everything.”

Though I’d proudly stocked my shelves with convenient food items, I realized — just four days before surgery — there was no way to open all those nifty “pop-top” cans of soups and other foods with one hand.

“Oh, no!” My shocked brain began at last to engage the problem. “What else haven’t I thought of?” Thankfully, some loving folks had already been working on that, and their kindness and generosity was offered shortly before the surgery date.

Amazing women at my church, Elma Alliance, have been delivering luscious, healthful meals to my home since the evening after my surgery. Two other incredibly gracious ladies — a mom and daughter duo — are providing me with in-home help with a host of things, including opening those “pop-top” cans … and much more.

Someday soon, I’ll be enormously pleased to have a pain-free, well-working left thumb. But I’ll remain even more grateful for the lovely people who helped me get that far. What would I have done without them?

You know who you are, and you’ll be hearing from me.