When squeezing a sponge causes wincing, perhaps it’s time to admit you have a problem.

Everyone knows that having family members with useful careers (read: something you can take advantage of) is pretty much hitting the jackpot. Personally, I aim to marry a plastic surgeon or a massage therapist. I’ll either have everything lifted up to my eyeballs and tacked into place, or I’ll just have it all rubbed long enough so I’ll be too relaxed to care how droopy it is.

So a couple of years ago, I noticed something about my wrists. They were popping and crackling like that crappy kids’ cereal (Really, can that stuff stay crunchy for more than .5 seconds?), and sharp pains appeared whenever they carried any weight. I shrugged it off as Carpal Tunnel and just assumed I would get by. I was in my 20s for crying out loud!

Yah, well…this shit hurts. And when squeezing the water out of a sponge causes wincing, it’s really time to get a professional opinion. So I hit up my Aunt Jenny, who is a nurse (score!). This is the same aunt who, when I cut my cheek open as a toddler, played with me all day once I got home and painted my face with pretty makeup colors to distract me from the stitches. What a sweet person. No wonder she went into nursing.

She quickly confirmed my suspicions – Carpal Tunnel. And then she added this uplifting after-thought:

“You can try the wrist support braces, they do help. But usually everyone eventually gets surgery, which is a sure fix. :)”

What the hell, Aunt Jenny? You think that little happy face makes it all okay? Surgery?! For once, I am NOT happy to be right.

When did my hobby habit obsession with all things digital become so overwhelming that I now need surgery? Breaking down my typical day, there’s basic typing on a computer for several hours. Add to that texting and all smart phone-related activities, plus basic web surfing with a trackpad. For several more hours. Okay, that’s my entire waking life. And I mean ENTIRE. I use my iPhone in the shower. I need help. I’m addicted.

But wait, didn’t Aunt Jenny say that surgery is a “sure fix?” Does that mean after surgery I can indulge my internet obsession for as long as I please, throwing all cares to the wind (not that I’m every outside long enough to feel it)? Now I know what the happy face means!

Thanks, Aunt Jenny. 🙂


I have popped my wrists approximately five times during the writing of this post.