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Since I put it off yesterday (putting things off being one of my most enduring qualities), I felt I had no choice but to mow down the center strip of the driveway today. So, after the Giants game ended so unsatisfactorily, I put on my old jeans and old sneakers and lit up the mower. And did it. It wasn’t much of an accomplishment, but at least there is evidence out there, in the form of a neatly shaven stretch of grass, that I got up out of my chair for at least a few minutes today.
Currently I’m wearing the wrist brace again. Not “currently” as in right this minute, while I’m typing, but “currently” as in off and on for the last few days. I’ve been at the keyboard so much, trying to get through the usual April reports and spreadsheets and tax returns, that I’ve aggravated whatever it is that makes the bones in my hand and arm, sometimes all the way to my elbow, feel as if they’ve been jolted by a hot current.
Oddly enough, the typing has proven much more painful than the mowing did today, even though I have to clutch the top of the mower tightly to keep the motor from automatically shutting itself off. I don’t know if that means anything, medically or otherwise, but I know that it won’t apply to the weed trimmer. Holding that device has always hurt me up to the elbow, even when I wasn’t having other problems. |
