The hands of Mitch Gregory

For two weeks Mitch Gregory’s hands had been slowly swelling.
He felt it at first like a numbness in his extremities, such as when the circulation of blood seems poor. Later in the first week came the cold, his hands and fingers were in the grip of some glacial freeze.
Careful observation produced no sign of colour change: the skin wasn’t particularly white or even blue, there was no bruising or rash appearing upon the epidermis. Mitch asked his friend, an oncologist, to take a look, describing the strange symptoms. The friend’s reaction was one of simple time-wasting or hypochondria. He suggested applying some sort of gel used in nerve pain.
The gel was useless and by the middle of the second week the phenomenon had caused a visible change in the size of Mitch’s hands. It was most remarkable in the fingers which gave the appearance of uncooked sausages. Mitch became rather concerned by this development and, on the Thursday, visited his GP who decided the cause of the swelling to be caused either by an inflammation of the tendons in the hand (perhaps stress-related) or due to some prior blow to the arm resulting in a delayed swelling.
In either case, rest and an ice-pack, along with anti-inflammatory medication, was the best course of action. So Mitch took the remainder of the week off and prepared to relax.
Things seemed well and his hands had reduced in size, returning almost to a recognisable constant. By the weekend, however, friends were dismayed to witness a downturn in his general health.
A vicious fever gripped him and he was unable to sleep without delirium upsetting him and the close friends who watched over his dreams. His hands, let it be noted, had returned to their usual size and state, yet Mitch would cry out in his sleep that the big hands were with him; that the big hands were crushing his world.
The fever broke by Wednesday and his friends were relieved. One close friend, Maria, in her fear for Mitch’s life during this period, had realised that her feelings for him were stronger than mere friendship and she asked to stay with him, alone, that night.
The events of that night from the moment Maria shut the door on the last of the well-wishers are clouded. Apparently they went straight to bed where they made love. Maria mentions being aware of an immense grip upon her body that pinned her to the bed during the intercourse. Later inspection of her body by doctors suggest she was held down, about the shoulders, by a man twice the size of Mitch Gregory.
The couple fell asleep, holding hands as far as Maria can remember. At 3am she awoke in great pain and distress. Stumbling into the bathroom she struggled to switch on the light. Her right hand hung limply and ragged at her side. All the bones had been crushed and the muscles torn. The appendage was later amputated.
When police entered Mr Gregory’s apartment at around 7.30 that morning they found that all the door handles had been destroyed and several items of furniture showed signs of tearing and clawing. The television set, microwave and home computer had all been crushed “like scrap metal”.
According to the report, Miss Maria Derwent was found unconscious in the bath tub and was taken by ambulance to Ford’s Hill Hospital.
The body of Mr Mitch Gregory, was meanwhile discovered laid out on the floor of his lounge, his hands covering his face. Cause of death was recorded as strangulation, possibly self-inflicted.