elfs | The Good Doctor's Advice.

"Stop writing."

That's what she said, the thin, thin-lipped physician sitting there in her office chair. The examination room was warm, almost too warm for someone dressed in the office drag I wore. And somehow, I tried to see it from her point of view. I'm sure she understood that writing was a hobby, that I could no more give it up than I could give up breathing or masturbation. Actually, I'm quite sure that if we were more comfortable with each other as patient and physician that she'd have asked me about that and recommended against it, too. She had dozens of patients. Many of them had the same problem I did. She knew that some of them could give it up, and some couldn't. She knew that I was one of the latter.

I was aghast. I'm sure the shock, the pain, the sheer impossibility of complying with her request was as visible on my face as the tattoo Poor impulse control might have been across my forehead.

"There's no noticeable weakness in your hands, which is good. You'll probably make a full recovery. You've done everything conservative you possibly can-- lowered your keyboard, optimized your mouse, gotten the footrest. But it sounds to me like you're in front of a computer far more than average. It's definitely typing-induced tendinitis-- you got that right the first time." I smiled, grateful to the gods of the Internet who brought me the initial diagnosis and the years of experience that let me separate wheat from chaff. "And I'm impressed with your keyboard layout. I've never heard of the Dvorak before. I'll definitely have to look into it for my other patients."

I made some comment about how it's hard to switch, especially after a lifetime of habit with QWERTY.

"Probably. But give up the freelance writing. That'll cause it to heal fastest. Other than giving up all typing-related duties, of course, which probably isn't an option right now." I shook my head. "I'll give you a wrist splint. Wear it in bed every night. That'll help. And use ibuprofen if it hurts."

I told her that I preferred aspirin. It's the best anti-inflammatory I know. "Try not to take too much, then. It's so hard on your stomach compared to the modern NSAIDs. Switch off with ibuprofen or naproxen if you can."

"If it doesn't get better in a month or two, come back. We'll have to talk to a surgeon. Not for surgery. But he can recommend courses of action that I can't."

I nodded, sheepishly, my equilibrium momentarily shocked at the word "surgeon," while she filled out the forms and had me sign for the wrist splint.

I don't know what I'm going to do. I really don't.

I can install xwrits. I can even give up mouse-heavy gaming.

But give up writing?