I Almost Lost My Hands.

I have regained sensation in my fingers.
But they still hurt.

I am eternally grateful for my fantastic new coat. It literally saved my life yesterday. I was nice and toasty in Portland. Even in Salt Lake City during my extended layover, I was thermally content. The plane ride to Chicago seemed cold, but I think that was more mental than anything. Before I even stepped off the plane I could see my breath. I got into the airport and was disgruntled by the reality of the weather. I knew it was coming, but once in it, the full weight of it finally dawned on me. I fished out my $2 snow cap and knit gloves. What a joke. I was okay in the airport, and even okay on the El. From the airport to the El is a long haul, but it's all covered and for the most part there are heat lamps along the way, which are far from a cure-all to cold, but they make it a bit more bearable. I transferred from the Orange Line to the Brown Line-- hauling my 43lb suitcase full of birthday-booty up the stairs and over the tracks, then back down the stairs to get on the correct side. Fortunately, the train came within seconds of when I landed on the correct platform. This is when I got cold. There was only a seat open and it was near the door. So there is where I sat. Each stop with the opening and closing of the door was a harsh reminder of the climate I willingly came back to. We finally arrived to my stop and by then my hands were very very cold-- tingly cold. I live about a quarter mile (ish) from the El stop. Within that quarter mile, I experienced the worst cold-related pain of my life! Halfway through I was trying to scout out a store I could stop in to regain circulation in my poor phalanges. Nothing was open. Not only was it less than 20 below, it was also 10:30 at night. I coached myself each block.. 'come on, come on, almost there, come on.' At the alley behind my apartment I broke. I HAD to stop and put my hands in my armpits (Superstar style). But that was to no avail. By this time, my hands were NUMB. I jumped around and whimpered and tried to shake life back into them and realized that it was just going to get worse the longer I stayed there. I couldn't move my hands, they were foreign objects attached to my shrinking stump of an arm. I used my KNEES to make my fingers wrap around the handles of my suitcases then sent out the signal 'squeeze' praying that the ice cubes would respond. I started walking and was pleasantly surprised to hear my luggage rolling behind me. I tried running then slipped and caught myself. After eternity I reached the back door of my apartment. Using my teeth, I took the knit glove off of my hand to find a shriveled blue, white and red thing staring back at me. I shoved it into my pocket and heard my keys jangle. By the grace of God alone, I got the door open. It took at least four full minutes. I felt like I was losing consciousness. Somehow my suitcases ended up inside the back door and I raced up to unlock the door to my unit. I spilled into the dining room, panting and trying to shake life back into my hands which were SO numb except for a deep throbbing pain. My poor roommate who was trying to welcome me back was witness to my frantic-ness. I muttered something about being so cold, left the back door open, and scurried to my bedroom. As my hands warmed they hurt SO BAD. SO SO BAD. I danced around, shook them, tried to move my fingers. Nothing was helpful. I needed a distraction, so I went back for my luggage. It was still very cold (duh). I finally got everything into my bedroom and just started crying! I don't want to be here! I don't want to be cold! I don't want to go back to work! There is NOTHING for me in this city! Fortunately, I quickly tired and after letting my family know I had survived the journey, I went to bed. I was so exhausted, but again couldn't sleep. I had no trouble sleeping at home. NONE. I think I can't sleep in Chicago.
If it hadn't been for that coat, I would have frozen to death. Thanks, Dad.

I woke up today and started researching my options. We'll see what comes of it.

All in all an anticlimactic post, but I am overwhelmed by the trauma of the journey.