Valentine for the Carpally Tunneled

Once upon a time, a somewhat frazzled writer was working too hard and came down with a massive case of carpal tunnel syndrome. It was the dead of winter and she had a small son and no idea what she was going to do. 

Carpal tunnel syndrome, a.k.a. median nerve compression, occurs when pressure on the nerve, which runs the length of the arm, goes through a passage in the wrist called the carpal tunnel which leads to your hand. The median nerve controls the movement and feeling of your thumb and all the fingers except the pinky.

What that means in reality is PAIN climbing up your wrist and hand, steady as a drumbeat. I know that because I'm the writer in this story and as the pain increased, my fingers turned blue and swollen beyond recognition. My wrist had a golf-ball sized lump in front that looked ominously like a mini-pregnancy. I couldn't write checks, let alone plays or anything else longer than a word or two.

What I could do was try medication, which worked slightly but not all that well, and call my friend Geoff, who was and still is a brilliant chiropractor. Geoff said he would try to help and wouldn't charge me until we knew if he could fix it, which of course was exceptionally kind. 

He then started to work on my wrist using what I can only call an ironing-on-steroids technique. It hurt like hell, I'm not going to lie to you, but I knew instinctively it was going to work. Two days later when I returned, my fingers were back to their normal colors and Geoff continued his ironing. But he told me it would likely take months before the nerve would be healed.

Meanwhile, Geoff said until I was better I couldn't do anything related to writing.  Nor could I carry grocery bags or my own kid. I also had to stop doing simple tasks like chopping vegetables or vacuuming.

Without a fairy godmother, I couldn't imagine how to deal with any of this. I must have had some kind of godmother though, because she sent a Knight to help me. He cut up my vegetables. He wrote my checks so I could sign them and pay bills. He drove my son and me around to errands and helped with countless other tasks. 

I also had a sympathetic boss who let me bring in volunteers to type my grant proposals and marketing pieces while I told them what to write. And then, somehow or other, it was Valentine's Day. And this Knight, well, we had only been seeing each other about a year. So it was quite a surprise when he stopped by that evening with flowers and an antique diamond that had belonged to his great grandmother.

I wish I would have had the record button on in my mind to remember the entire evening, but I do recall him saying he had something serious to ask me. I think I blanked on the exact words (which isn't like me) but I do remember him kneeling and I hope I kneeled with him.

Because how often do you get to see who someone is except when they either step up (or don't) when you're in trouble? Up to this point we'd been about having fun and getting to know each other. And then he showed me who he was and how things would go if I married him.

Eight months later, I did and that Valentine's Day will always be my favorite--carpal tunnel and all. While my wrist didn't get well enough to write until July, my Knight stood by me.

Which goes to show, I guess, that on rare and unexpected occasions, carpal tunnel can be useful. Hopefully, if you're reading this, you won't ever get it. But if you do, (or don't) - I hope you'll find something wonderful to go along with it--Valentine's or no.