I'm talking about actually being injured. Like, you know, getting an ass-kicking or something. Given the content of this blog, I kind of assumed that any injury one of us might receive would be at the hands of an irate reader. Or (more likely) a family member of one of our readers.
I was wrong.
You see, Saturday night I lost sensation in my pointer finger and most of my middle finger of my left hand. Let me just point out that my left hand is THE hand that does all the important stuff, like writing, holding utensils and administering the self-love. One minute everything was fine and dandy and the next, my fingers were all tingly and shit and then the tips went numb. On Sunday, they were still all numb so I decided, against my better judgment, to look that shit up on WebMD.
For those of you who don't go the self-diagnosis route online, let me sum this up for you. No matter what your ailment is YOU WILL FUCKING DIE FROM IT. Pimple? Advanced skin cancer. Got a cough? It's congestive heart failure AND/OR pneumonia brought on by the final stages of AIDS. Weird rash? A very rare Malaysian skin disease that eats away at your flesh. Doesn't really matter, YOU WILL DIE.
OMG, it says right HERE my testicles are going to fall off and I'm gonna DIE!!! Nooooo -- wait, I don't have testicles but I'm still going to kick the bucket. Noooooo!!!
Despite the fact that I know this, I went online and started reading. I was totally horrified when I discovered I've had a stroke or seizure, advanced diabetes, frostbite, Gigantism and something called Raynaud's phenomenon. Oh, and cancer.
Mommy (not a)Jerkface assured me that I don't have Gigantism, unless by Gigantism they mean Dwarfism (fucking comedians, the whole lot of them) and she was pretty sure it's hard to get frostbite when it's August in Jersey and ninety five fucking degrees out.
To make the long and the short of it, when I woke up on Monday morning with no sensation in those fingers still, I decided it was high time to see a doctor. So, today I did. I headed downtown where I did my usual "harass the nurse who tries to weigh me and then insist my shoes weigh 10 pounds, each" shtick and then they left me alone in the room. Of course, I whipped out my cell phone and started hunt n' peckin' an email to Snarkier Than You with my right hand.
To: Snarkier Than You
From: Jenny Jerkface
Sitting in Dr. office waiting for someone to come tell me they are going to amputate my hand. Nurse liked my tattoo though. God this is boring.
To: Jenny JerkfaceSo much for sympathy or comfort. Twatgobbler.
From: Snarkier Than You
Subject: Re: Hi!
Make sure they cut below the tat… I like that one, too. :)
Finally, the good Doctor came in and we went through the battery of inane questions and then finally she asked "do you spend a lot of time on the computer?"
"Is, like, sixteen hours a day a lot?" I asked. She stared at me like I just told her I shat my pants purely for enjoyment. So, apparently, I spend WAY too much time on the computer.
In the end, it turned out it's not cancer, or diabetes or multiple sclerosis or anything like that.
It's Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, which apparently effects geeks and computer nerds and causes the muscle, or bones, or possibly microscopic bacteria, to generally wreak havoc on your wrists and fingers until your digits get all necrotic and gross looking and no one wants to be your friend. At least, that's what WebMD told me.
The doctor, on the other hand, told me to give the computer a break and I laughed a little hysterically and then she said I was too uptight and needed to relax or something. I jumped on this, hoping to walk out with a prescription for Xanax or something but all I was told was to "meditate." Lamespice.
Naturally, the first thing I did was send Snarkier Than You an email, because I know she's been worried, since I've had a hard time typing. And, unlike her, I wanted to assuage any concern she might have. Uh huh. Sure.
To: Snarkier Than YouI'm not above lying to freak the fuck out of STY. The brace, yes. The no typing for two weeks? Total fucking lie. Well, mostly.
From: Jenny Jerkface
Re: I'm fucked
Lol, I have carnal tunnel. No typing at all for 2 weeks and I have to wear a brace for a while.
To: Jenny Jerkface
From: Snarkier Than You
Re: I'm fucked
Ok my head just exploded. Pretty much sobbing, on the phone with a client and talking nonsense because all I can think of is what a disaster this will be...Yup, I'm an asshole. Anyhoo, I am currently writing this with an ugly-ass brace on my left hand. I'm supposed to wear this monstrosity for the better part of the day and night for who-the-fuck knows how long. I did tell STY that my wrist and palm are now encased in metal, so if anyone tries any fuckery on me when we're at Forks, they're gonna get their asses whooped, because I'm like Iron Man now.
See? It's like this, only without the vaguely attractive guy attached to it. Or that light thingy, though that would be pretty fuckawesome.
I can already tell this brace is going to be a fucking disaster. I mean, it's not that huge but I had it on for a whopping twenty minutes before I spilled food on it, and I almost fell off the toilet trying to wipe my ass with my right hand. Do you know how hard it is to wipe with your non-dominant hand?? It's fucking hard, trust me.
All I know is that ML might want to sleep with a helmet on because if I start flailing around with this thing on, someone's going to get hurt. And it ain't gonna be me.
But it won't be all bad. I'm thinking this brace may get me out of some chores, too. I mean, I can't wash dishes, right? Wouldn't want to get it wet, after all. Weeding/gardening it out because I'm supposed to be resting my wrist, yo. And dudes, this brace is like my get-out-of-a-handjob-for-free card.
P.S. - ML thinks my new accessory is real fucking cute and has been singing Billy Idol songs since he got home.
Looks like ol' Billy doesn't like his Carpal Tunnel brace either. But his is fancier, the lucky bastard.
P.P.S. - This is also, like, the longest fucking post I've written in awhile -- mainly because the moment someone tells me NOT to do something, I feel totally compelled to do it. So, dear doctor who told me to lay off the typing -- LMT.