Writing without a wrist
After a week of hanging in the North Carolina mountains, I thought the bad case of carpal tunnel I developed just before I hit the road would be gone. I was wrong. So I’m writing this long hand first and then using all the adequate wrist support to type it up, hoping I don’t do too much damage in the process.
Every time I injure a different part of my body, I’m amazed to discover how important that body part is to my daily functioning. Like when you have a frozen shoulder, it gets very hard to do things like put on a bra or wash your hair. When the arthritis in my pinky finger (yes, my pinky finger!) flares up, it’s hard to grip a knife and chop garlic. And don’t get me started on knees and stairs.
Obviously, these are the musings of a person who’s been lucky enough to be relatively healthy and able-bodied most of my life.1 Most of my bodily failings have to do with age and I’m trying to figure out a new relationship to my body for the second half (maybe?) of my life. I really enjoyed running in my late twenties, but given my knees, feet and ankles, I’ll probably never be a runner again.
I’m still figuring out how to exist in this changing body. But one of the lessons I’m learning (reluctantly) is to not take anything about what my body can do for granted, because it might be gone tomorrow. Today I can still climb a ladder to deal with the vines that are always threatening to take over the garden.2 Tomorrow, ladder-climbing might be a thing of the past.
Part of that’s aging, but it’s also just life as an animal in a frail and fleshy body. Our bodies are amazing in how often things go right. I remember learning in high school biology that just the intricacy of how our kidneys work can blow your mind. And they do work. Most of the time, your kidneys and your cells and your bones and your lungs go right on about their business.
Them sometimes, they don’t and you find yourself making do—writing out a newsletter longhand.
The temptation is to get frustrated with our bodily limitations. Yesterday I thought, how can I make my wrist instantly better? There has to be some way. Spoiler—there isn’t. Time and, even harder, rest, are the only tools I have.
The pain in my wrist isn’t bad—mostly just annoying. So instead of being frustrated, I’m trying to be patient. I’m trying to listen to the story my body is telling me—about pushing too hard. About spending a little less time in front of a computer screen. About taking breaks. About the delicacy and wonder that is a functioning human wrist. Take it for granted at your own risk.
Thanks new subscribers and everyone else for sharing, liking, commenting, etc.! It was so nice to be in Asheville last week at Malaprop’s Bookstore (and also Blue Dream Curry House where I had an amazing Plum Sake Gin Fizz and korma to die for), where I signed a bunch of copies of She/He/They/Me, so if you’re in the area, pick one up! And register now for my online gender discussion this Tuesday, August 23 at 6:00 ET. It’s free and the link is here.
Though, as those within disability communities would point out, all of us are only ever temporarily able-bodied. Able-bodied-ness is not the default, but a temporary state. We’ll break a leg or get pregnant or suffer a bout of depression or, if we’re lucky, grow old.
After just a week, the vines had wound their way into the party pavilion, like we’d invited them for drinks! What is it about vines? They are the mutant survivors of the plant world. If I stood still for too long in my garden, I’d disappear under the vines.
❤️💖👌💋🫶🏻
Thanks,Robyn, for these wise words. Hope your wrist feels better asap!