Remorseless Sweaty Palms

Remorseless sweaty palms despite being prescribed glycopyrrolate. Though the angst riddled psyche of mine crafted youth, long since receded, ebbed in the past, infringement, impingement, and indecent wracking wrath of mental illness, that even as a middle aged mwm of lxiv bold faced roam min times, I can acclimatize, characterize, empathize, harmonize, italicize, and massage sympathy for prevailing physiological symptoms of => Sweaty Palms an ur...bane curse worse than mega death aggravating enough fo' me to resort tit take or meth speed dilly, and then not getting ticked off watching Seth Thomas - thee clock man ewe fact chore er, and his hands incrementally inch to... regarding the aforementioned relentless frenzied state. No idea when the chronic onset of sweaty palms first burst forth upon thy totally tubular handsome grooves that criss cross the flat skin surface of my hands. These lines called 'palmar flexion creases' develop before birth. This modern day bipedal hominid i.e. human primate attests (like the average person) two main lines across the palm, but some have a single 'Simian crease'. Profuse outpouring of perspiration (as if Biblical Flood gates opened) oft times directly related to adrenaline coursing through every pore sans the underside of my hands) reflexively followed by swiping said clamminess (in vein) on clothing or woolen pocket size cloth brought along with me everywhere I go (cuz a lamb might not part ways with mother Mary (of story book fame), and this chap would shear lee feel sheepish toting extremely cumbersome to tote in the event this intimation predicated on decades worth of experience, when in the throes potential such ordinary action strongly shaking, grasping or holding hands took place occurred sopping wet clangorous human clapper, (which frenzied trickling akin to a vicious feedback loop), my psyche feels under staccato rat-a-tat siege from an unknown invisible enemy), the natural inclination to withdraw myself from bad company of others helps stave of self-consciousness. This avoidance of socialization subsequently impedes any promotion of a hankering viz genuine friendship, employment and desiring carefree bona fide affectionate bonding with family of origin and/or thy two precious progeny. Understandable per the human reaction to shrink away and recoil quickly when pressed to touch what feels like a wet noodle. Ah…courtesy of Google I now know sweaty palms sports a dignified name known as palmar Hyperhidrosis. Here all along (meaning the majority of my LXIV chronological hash tagged buzz feeding orbitz around the sun) this plague constitutes a bona fide medical condition. Also reassuring to realize, this generic guy need not count himself alone in the sopping wet wilderness re: this plague. Such problematic health condition impacts, comprises, and affects one to two percent of the world’s population. One Doctor Rafael Riesfeld purportedly knuckles down and makes hand over fist handsome income. Will power alone seems a dauntlessly futile endeavor to rid oneself of this disruptive condition. Try as one might to put a lockdown on the propensity for sweat glands (synonymous with the term eccrine) are pack within sub surfaces of hands, forehead and feet. As linkedin to the sympathetic nervous system, the body electric under stress activates said glands. Profuse moisture dripping like a faulty faucet severely affected everyday activities of my existence since a young adult. Frustration to complete a simple task such as opening a doorknob, using the laptop, and even writing concomitantly associated with droplets of water soiling green sleeves to appear near saturated. Without fail interpersonal ambitions hi-jacked when wet as a dishrag hands found me disinclined to experience social rejection. Though sprung from overactive predisposition to anxiety, these secret tory organs get exacerbated with the honorable privilege of being gifted with panic attacks, offers little consolation. your prospective clammy handy dandy blues clues budding friend where chocolate candy melts in my hands not my mouth.