carpal tunnel syndrome – FoodPhotoBlog http://foodphotoblog.com Blogging about food, and much, much more. Tue, 30 May 2017 14:52:25 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=4.7.5 Carpal Tunnel Does Have A Light At The End Of It http://foodphotoblog.com/carpal-tunnel-does-have-a-light-at-the-end-of-it/ http://foodphotoblog.com/carpal-tunnel-does-have-a-light-at-the-end-of-it/#respond Thu, 17 Sep 2015 07:24:57 +0000 http://foodphotoblog.com/?p=15

Although it has often been said that you do not miss something until it is gone, I did not fully understand the truth behind the statement until I lost the use of my right hand for a month. Carpal tunnel syndrome is something of an occupational hazard among writers. When I noticed numbness and weakness in my hand, I began to worry. When holding a pen became excruciating, I panicked.

“This will keep your fingers from moving,” the doctor said as she fitted a strapped contraption onto my right hand. “Don’t use this hand for three weeks,” she added, pressing the last strap in place. “Then, we will see.”

“May I take it off to sleep?” I asked; visions of insomnia loomed before me.

“Only for bathing,” she answered.

“But I’m a writer,” I moaned.

“Just use the other hand,” she said crisply.

It wasn’t until December that evening that the full enormity of this dilemma hit me. Bob and I had been discussing the impending arrival of our second grandchild when I suddenly remembered my promise to help after

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Although it has often been said that you do not miss something until it is gone, I did not fully understand the truth behind the statement until I lost the use of my right hand for a month. Carpal tunnel syndrome is something of an occupational hazard among writers. When I noticed numbness and weakness in my hand, I began to worry. When holding a pen became excruciating, I panicked.

“This will keep your fingers from moving,” the doctor said as she fitted a strapped contraption onto my right hand. “Don’t use this hand for three weeks,” she added, pressing the last strap in place. “Then, we will see.”

“May I take it off to sleep?” I asked; visions of insomnia loomed before me.

“Only for bathing,” she answered.

“But I’m a writer,” I moaned.

“Just use the other hand,” she said crisply.

It wasn’t until December that evening that the full enormity of this dilemma hit me. Bob and I had been discussing the impending arrival of our second grandchild when I suddenly remembered my promise to help after

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