My embarrasing ailment
I have a medical condition which severely impacts my ability to live a normal life. Most of the time it's in remission and I can mingle into the crowd, laughing and joking with my peers and pretending I'm just like them. Other times, such as now, it halves my productivity and makes it impossible for me to carry out many everday activities. And yet, when people ask what's wrong, I always answer "Oh, it's only RSI, nothing serious".
This attitude is one of the reasons I've never been to a doctor, and never taken a sick day even when I couldn't type painlessly with either hand. Even though it's taken me the best part of half an hour (and counting) to type this, I'm a little afraid that you're all thinking "RSI? Huh. What's she making such a fuss about?" I don't know if it's because there are no visible symptoms, or because attacks are brought on by nothing more strenous than typing, but I honestly feel like it isn't real. It's as if the shooting pains in my elbow, the dull ache that works its way up to my collarbone and across my shoulders as the attack progresses, the nauseating jolts from my wrists and the tingling numbness in my fingers are all punishments for being a bit lame and I don't want anyone to know.
Most of all I hate how feeble I get. Yesterday, the boys and I went to the supermarket for a weekly shop. I followed them around pathetically, weakly murmuring that we should buy vegetables and being emo about whether I wanted cake, and then I sat on a bench while they packed the shopping into bags.
Another example: at lunch today I discovered that it's almost impossible to eat soup left-handed*. And I had to butter my bread by peeling back as much of the foil as possible and then desperately smooshing the packet against the bread. It didn't work very well, so I tried to fold the bread round the butter-lump to make it look like that was my intention all along. There's nothing like a lunch of half a bowl of soup and a squished-bread mutant-dumpling to make you re-evaluate your life in a harsher light.
Is RSI a legitimate medical problem? Maybe. But that doesn't stop me feeling like a total idiot and wanting to hide it from people. Perhaps other people would take it more seriously if I treated it like a "real" issue, but it seems more likely to me that they would laugh at me/consider me pompous/hate me/all of the above.
When my RSI is bad, I am no use to anyone because I can't carry anything and I can't think about anything much other than 'dammit, pain SUCKS' (exception: once every four hours I pause to meditate on how great codeine is). I think you should just prop me in a cupboard until my arms work again.
*Unless you're left-handed, I guess. But why would a left-handed person be eating soup??
This attitude is one of the reasons I've never been to a doctor, and never taken a sick day even when I couldn't type painlessly with either hand. Even though it's taken me the best part of half an hour (and counting) to type this, I'm a little afraid that you're all thinking "RSI? Huh. What's she making such a fuss about?" I don't know if it's because there are no visible symptoms, or because attacks are brought on by nothing more strenous than typing, but I honestly feel like it isn't real. It's as if the shooting pains in my elbow, the dull ache that works its way up to my collarbone and across my shoulders as the attack progresses, the nauseating jolts from my wrists and the tingling numbness in my fingers are all punishments for being a bit lame and I don't want anyone to know.
Most of all I hate how feeble I get. Yesterday, the boys and I went to the supermarket for a weekly shop. I followed them around pathetically, weakly murmuring that we should buy vegetables and being emo about whether I wanted cake, and then I sat on a bench while they packed the shopping into bags.
Another example: at lunch today I discovered that it's almost impossible to eat soup left-handed*. And I had to butter my bread by peeling back as much of the foil as possible and then desperately smooshing the packet against the bread. It didn't work very well, so I tried to fold the bread round the butter-lump to make it look like that was my intention all along. There's nothing like a lunch of half a bowl of soup and a squished-bread mutant-dumpling to make you re-evaluate your life in a harsher light.
Is RSI a legitimate medical problem? Maybe. But that doesn't stop me feeling like a total idiot and wanting to hide it from people. Perhaps other people would take it more seriously if I treated it like a "real" issue, but it seems more likely to me that they would laugh at me/consider me pompous/hate me/all of the above.
When my RSI is bad, I am no use to anyone because I can't carry anything and I can't think about anything much other than 'dammit, pain SUCKS' (exception: once every four hours I pause to meditate on how great codeine is). I think you should just prop me in a cupboard until my arms work again.
*Unless you're left-handed, I guess. But why would a left-handed person be eating soup??