Writing what you know is one of the most common pieces of writing advice, and I have found myself paying extra attention to new experiences solely because I may write about them later. Now, I don't take risks just so I can have prior experience whenever I sit down and type up a new scene in a story. Sometimes that doesn't matter, though.
A jewelry piece typically takes 1-5 hours to make. I never do this in one sitting. It's not good for my hands to do beadwork for too long: my hands start to cramp, the chains pinch my skin, and the pliers push uncomfortably into the flesh of my hands. I can avoid these problems by pacing myself. I'd pace out the work, anyway, because my ADD ensures that I try to do a million things every day.
So, I typically spend two to five days on a single beadwork piece. But that's not what I did in late March and early April, when I worked overtime to create new beaded pieces. I had a festival coming up on April 13th and I had very few non-bobbin and steampunk jewelry pieces left in my inventory, so I wanted to make some. I was enjoying the work, and I was on fire, or so I'd thought, pumping out new cords and chains for necklaces, designing new pendants, making new earrings. I forgot to take care of myself.
Good Thumb, Bad Thumb
Late on April 2nd, pain suddenly shot through my right hand at the base of my thumb, near the wrist. I went to the doctor on April 4th, and lo and behold, I had tendinitis. For two weeks, I wore a brace on my hand. The experience reminded me to take better care of myself. It also taught me that far too many things in my life depend on the unencumbered access to two thumbs. Though the brace was designed so that I could use the other fingers in my hand, I couldn't use my thumb or turn my wrist certain ways without pain. I'm also lucky (if unemployment can be labeled "lucky") that I live with family and I wasn't living alone this month, because I needed help doing many basic things. I am so glad that my injury wasn't any worse and it was temporary.
Without two thumbs and without the full use of my dominant hand, I couldn't open plastic vacuum-sealed bags, use scissors, carry and unfold folding tables (which is a necessary part of the art vendor's life), twist off caps of bottles, write, sign my name, draw, digitally paint with my pen tablet, do beadwork, pour a banana bread mixture from a mixing bowl into a baking pan, chop vegetables, carry a full cup and a plate of food at the same time, or pull heavy boxes off of shelves and put them back up again. Some moments, I felt very frustrated with myself for causing this situation. Can openers suck and should be designed for use by either hand, not just by the right hand. Pill bottle lids that must align with an arrow and then be pulled open with a finger nail are discriminatory. Squeeze bottles are annoying. Twice, my left hand cramped from overuse, and after that, I had to take it easy on both of my hands. Thankfully, I've avoided developing tendinitis in my left hand, though I was worried for awhile.
There were still plenty of things I could do on my own, many of them very essential day-to-day activities: I could dress, take showers, brush and floss my teeth, fix my own food, take care of my cat, type, drive, do my own grocery shopping, carry things one-handed, and use a computer mouse. I am very glad I was able to do these things.
Consciences Are Annoying When You Want to Sulk
In college, I met a guy who'd had both arms amputated below the elbow and both legs amputated above the knee. It was awesome how he was able to move past that and live on his own on campus in a dorm. He'd learned to use his elbows like hands. He could hold a pen in the bend of his elbow and write with it. If he could do that, I could certainly live two weeks without my right thumb, so I should quit my whining. Though he had one advantage (if that's the right word to use) over me: he'd had time to practice.
Writing What I Know
Now, the brace is off, and my hand is free. It feels so good to have two thumbs again. I can do all the things I couldn't for two weeks, and I am so happy about that.
So, due to recent events, I now have a firsthand account of tendinitis. If I choose to, I can use that knowledge in my writing, which is definitely a positive outcome of the past two weeks of mild frustration and throbbing pain. And I also know how to prevent it from happening in the future; I don't want a repeat, thanks.
A jewelry piece typically takes 1-5 hours to make. I never do this in one sitting. It's not good for my hands to do beadwork for too long: my hands start to cramp, the chains pinch my skin, and the pliers push uncomfortably into the flesh of my hands. I can avoid these problems by pacing myself. I'd pace out the work, anyway, because my ADD ensures that I try to do a million things every day.
So, I typically spend two to five days on a single beadwork piece. But that's not what I did in late March and early April, when I worked overtime to create new beaded pieces. I had a festival coming up on April 13th and I had very few non-bobbin and steampunk jewelry pieces left in my inventory, so I wanted to make some. I was enjoying the work, and I was on fire, or so I'd thought, pumping out new cords and chains for necklaces, designing new pendants, making new earrings. I forgot to take care of myself.
Good Thumb, Bad Thumb
Late on April 2nd, pain suddenly shot through my right hand at the base of my thumb, near the wrist. I went to the doctor on April 4th, and lo and behold, I had tendinitis. For two weeks, I wore a brace on my hand. The experience reminded me to take better care of myself. It also taught me that far too many things in my life depend on the unencumbered access to two thumbs. Though the brace was designed so that I could use the other fingers in my hand, I couldn't use my thumb or turn my wrist certain ways without pain. I'm also lucky (if unemployment can be labeled "lucky") that I live with family and I wasn't living alone this month, because I needed help doing many basic things. I am so glad that my injury wasn't any worse and it was temporary.
Without two thumbs and without the full use of my dominant hand, I couldn't open plastic vacuum-sealed bags, use scissors, carry and unfold folding tables (which is a necessary part of the art vendor's life), twist off caps of bottles, write, sign my name, draw, digitally paint with my pen tablet, do beadwork, pour a banana bread mixture from a mixing bowl into a baking pan, chop vegetables, carry a full cup and a plate of food at the same time, or pull heavy boxes off of shelves and put them back up again. Some moments, I felt very frustrated with myself for causing this situation. Can openers suck and should be designed for use by either hand, not just by the right hand. Pill bottle lids that must align with an arrow and then be pulled open with a finger nail are discriminatory. Squeeze bottles are annoying. Twice, my left hand cramped from overuse, and after that, I had to take it easy on both of my hands. Thankfully, I've avoided developing tendinitis in my left hand, though I was worried for awhile.
There were still plenty of things I could do on my own, many of them very essential day-to-day activities: I could dress, take showers, brush and floss my teeth, fix my own food, take care of my cat, type, drive, do my own grocery shopping, carry things one-handed, and use a computer mouse. I am very glad I was able to do these things.
Consciences Are Annoying When You Want to Sulk
In college, I met a guy who'd had both arms amputated below the elbow and both legs amputated above the knee. It was awesome how he was able to move past that and live on his own on campus in a dorm. He'd learned to use his elbows like hands. He could hold a pen in the bend of his elbow and write with it. If he could do that, I could certainly live two weeks without my right thumb, so I should quit my whining. Though he had one advantage (if that's the right word to use) over me: he'd had time to practice.
Writing What I Know
Now, the brace is off, and my hand is free. It feels so good to have two thumbs again. I can do all the things I couldn't for two weeks, and I am so happy about that.
So, due to recent events, I now have a firsthand account of tendinitis. If I choose to, I can use that knowledge in my writing, which is definitely a positive outcome of the past two weeks of mild frustration and throbbing pain. And I also know how to prevent it from happening in the future; I don't want a repeat, thanks.
Comments
Post a Comment