Because I tend to twist my body into unnatural shapes while I sleep, I wore the wrist brace to bed last night. It might have kept me from making the current injury worse, but when I got up this morning and took it off, I noticed that I’d rubbed some skin off one circular spot on my palm. So even though the steady thrum of minor pain continues, I chose not to wear the brace today, and I covered the sore spot with a band-aid.

It seems as if no matter what the cure for whatever condition, it always carries with it some unexpected consequence. That’s also why I stopped taking any pain medication (although I felt sluggish all day today anyway). I’m torn between ignoring the pain and just getting on with what I need to do, or letting the pain dictate what I do or don’t do. I suppose I’ve come down squarely in the middle by not doing anything much in particular at all.

When the Boss called this afternoon and asked if I wouldn’t mind doing a little typing, I didn’t bother to tell him I was suffering. I don’t think suffering registers with him as an excuse anyway. When he shattered his ankle last year, he was dictating from his hospital bed before the anesthetic wore off, so I doubt any twinges I was experiencing would make much of a dent in his stony Midwestern work ethic. Besides, I didn’t mind doing a little typing, since it eased some of the guilt I felt for not getting anything done yesterday.

Oh well. It wasn’t as if he was asking me to chop down a tree, or knead dough, or open a wine bottle. I don’t think I could use a corkscrew right now, but a keyboard isn’t as demanding.