You might remember when I wrote about my pain recently. That tennis elbow? It turns out that it might not be that at all. Because I got sick of the pain today and went to immediate care. The doctor examined my hand in particular because that was the worst of it. I figured maybe there was an issue with a tendon or something, but it turns out to be shittier than that.
I have a very short list of things that would make me drink again, and this near diagnosis is on that list. It's not certain yet. I haven't been tested. But the doctor said that all signs are pointing to one thing in particular.
He says, in all likelihood, that I have rheumatoid arthritis. He has advised that I try not to use my hands very much. That is horrifying news since typing is very important to me, not just as a writer but also as a salesman. I spend eight hours a day typing, and I have to be fast because often people talk fast when they're looking for something, not realizing that someone has to take that information down.
It's not definite. That's probably why I didn't stop at the liquor store on the way home. Not yet. I wouldn't be surprised that if it does turn out to be true, I might not make it a full year without a drink. Because I am not going to stop typing. I'm going to have to type faster to get it all in before I can't do it anymore.
It would also put the final coffin nail in my plan to exercise. Try to work out without using your knees and elbows, places where I'm feeling all that pain. Who would have thought that my bad leg would eventually become the least of my pains?
I'm starting to feel a little sorry for myself, so before I talk myself into getting drunk, I'm going to sign off for the night. Hey, tomorrow is gonna be GF #600. I'll try to be more cheerful for that.
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