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They gave me a pill for my hands. It took my head.
I'm 64. My hands have been numb for two years. I tried nearly everything sold for it before I found the one thing that helped. I almost didn't try it.
My right hand went dead at the workshop.
I was holding a screwdriver I'd held ten thousand times. I watched it slide out of my fingers and hit the floor. I never felt it go.
I told myself it was nothing. A pinched nerve. Too many years on the tools. It wasn't nothing, and part of me already knew that. It had been creeping up on me for months. I just didn't want to look at it.
My GP was good about it. He's a good bloke. He just didn't have much to give me. A script for the nerves, and "keep your sugars down, we'll see how you go in six months." So I took the script.
Nobody warned me what the pill would do.
The nerves quieted a little. But my head went with them. Foggy all day. I'd start a sentence and lose it halfway. Twelve kilos on in a few months. My daughter asked if I was alright. I'd rather have the dead hands than be that bloke. So I stopped taking it.
And then I was back where I started. Numb hands, and no idea what was actually wrong with them.
The numbness was never the worst part.
It started with the mornings. Buttons on a shirt.
The toothbrush. Small things I'd never thought about once in my life, and now I'd stand there swearing at them.
At the workshop I couldn't hold a pen to write up a job.
My mate noticed before I said a word. That's the part that gets you.
Not the dropping. The being seen dropping.
I was always the one who fixed things. Now I'd fumble a screw and have to put it down and pretend I meant to.
My guitar sat in its case. Forty years I'd played it, badly and happily, and one autumn I put it away and didn't get it out again.
And I stopped shaking hands. Sounds soft, I know. It isn't. You start dodging the barbecue, the mate's birthday, anywhere a bloke might put his hand out. Because you don't want him to feel how dead yours is.
What every day actually looked like:
What it really costs you. And nobody ever adds it up.
At the workshop: Two days a week kept me useful. Now I'd stand there holding a tool I couldn't feel, hoping no one was watching.
At home: Simple jobs turned into a fight. I'd hand Denise the things I couldn't manage, and hate myself a little each time.
With people: I went quiet. At the table you keep your hands in your lap so no one sees them, and after a while you just stop going.
In myself: The pills took my head. The numbness took my hands. Somewhere between the two, I lost the bloke I used to be.
The Day I Had Enough 🔥
It was Christmas. The whole family round.
I went to pass a glass to my grandson and it just went. Straight through my fingers, onto the floor.
Denise gave me a look. She didn't mean anything by it. But I caught it, and everyone caught me catching it.
That was the night I decided I was done. Not with the numb hands. With the look. I couldn't sit through that again.
Two years. Hundreds of dollars. Still numb.
A drawer full of braces and creams and half-empty tablets. And I still couldn't do up a shirt button on my own.
Out of Options
I stopped looking. You can only get your hopes up so many times.
Then I felt the tingling start in my left hand. The good one. That's when it really got to me.
Then Denise found something.
I'd stopped looking. Denise hadn't.
She's the one on Facebook, and she found it in a group for people with nerve trouble in their hands. Not an ad. A bloke about my age, saying it was the first thing in years that did anything for his hands.
She showed me on her phone one night after tea. My first thought was "here we go, another gadget for the drawer."
But this one wasn't a pill. It wasn't a cream. It was heat and gentle pressure, working the hand itself. The two things the hot packs and the physio had only ever done half of.
I still wasn't sure. But what did I have left to lose?
Denise ordered it that night. I told her not to get her hopes up. I didn't get mine up either.
What actually happened when I used it.
I didn't expect much. I put it on the kitchen table, turned the news on, and gave it 15 minutes a night. That was the whole routine.
What’s in it:
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I decided to give it a try.
-
Week 1
Honestly? Not much. A bit less stiff of a morning. I nearly wrote it off. But 15 minutes is nothing, so I kept at it. -
Week 2-3
This is when I noticed. Denise had me timing five shirt buttons every Sunday. Week one it was a joke. By week three I'd knocked ten seconds off it, and I could feel the difference. -
Month 2-4
I got the guitar out. Couldn't play like I used to. But I could hold a chord long enough to hear it. First time in two years. Denise pretended she wasn't watching.
The little wins nobody else would notice.
It's never the big stuff. It's the small things that get you.
Doing up my own buttons of a morning and not thinking about it.
My grandson asked me to help with his shoelaces. I could. I didn't have to call Denise over.
Down the pub, raising a glass for a toast without watching my own hand the whole time.
And the handshakes. I put my hand out first now. That's the one I didn't see coming.
-
I've got a drawer full of braces and creams that did nothing, so I wasn't hopeful. The weekly check changed my mind. Wrote my button times down every Sunday and watched them come down. Can't argue with your own handwriting. -
My husband can't feel much in his hands, so the heat worried me. But it starts on the lowest setting so I sat with him the first few times. No burns, no problems. Biggest fear gone. -
After the pregabalin fog I was done trying things. Nearly didn't bother. It's no miracle and I won't pretend it is. But it's the first thing that's given me anything back. Doing my own buttons again. Worth every penny.
Why this did something when nothing else did.
I'm no doctor. I can only tell you what I worked out, and what the fella in that group explained to me.
My hands weren't sore. They were numb. That's not a muscle problem, and it's not carpal tunnel, whatever the first doctor guessed. It's the nerves. And a nerve doesn't care about a wrist brace or a cream that sits on the skin.
Here's the bit that made sense to me. Your nerves and your sense of touch run on the same wiring up to the brain. Give a numb hand something else to feel, warmth and a gentle squeeze, and it competes with the numbness for that wiring. Doctors call it the gate. You give the gate something better to carry.
That's all this does. It doesn't fix the nerve. Nothing I've found does. The heat gets the blood moving where it had gone quiet, the pressure works it through the hand, and for a good while after, my hands felt like mine again.
The pills tried to shut the signal off from the inside and took my head with it. This works from the outside. Nothing to swallow. Nothing to remember.
What’s in it:
Four months on -
It's been four months since I started using the Steadyn Hand Device...
🏠 Home: I can do chores like washing dishes without struggling.
❤️ Relationships: Reconnecting with family and feeling more confident.
🤝 Social Life: I’m attending gatherings without a second thought.
-Miss any one of those and you get exactly what I got for two years. A brace that just sits there. A heat pack that warms the top and nothing underneath. This was the first thing that did the lot, together.
I just wish I'd found Steadyn Hand Device sooner.
Your hands won't wait. But you can start today.
I left mine two years too long. The numbness spread to the other hand while I sat there waiting. If yours has started, the sooner you give it something to work with, the more you've got to hold onto.
Try it for 30 days. If it does nothing for you, send it back and pay nothing. The only thing you're risking is another few months of doing nothing.
Common Questions
Is the heat safe if I can't feel much in my hands?
Fair question, it's the first one I asked. You start on the lowest setting and only build up if you want to. If your feeling's reduced, stay on the low settings and check your skin after. Slow and low, every time.
How long before I notice anything?
not day one. For me, week one was just a bit less stiff. It was week two or three before I'd say it plainly. Give it a few weeks, and use the weekly check so you can see it instead of guessing.
What if it just ends up in the drawer like the rest?
You write your times down once a week. If nothing's moving after a fair go, you'll know, and you send it back. No hoping.
What if it doesn't work for me?
You send it back within 30 days and get your money back. That's the deal. You're trying it, not gambling on it.
That’s My Story
I'm no salesman. I'm just a bloke who got his hands back enough to do the things that matter to him, without the pill that took his head.
If your hands have gone numb and you've been told to wait and see, you already know that road. It doesn't get better on its own. I left mine two years. Don't leave yours as long as I did.
Give it a go. If it's not for you, send it back. But do something, because the waiting is the one thing guaranteed to cost you.