It´s been now a bit over a month since I started feeling something I´d never thought I´d ever feel: it started small, a little tingling thing going from the palm of my hand all the way to the elbow, that turned out to be a certain inflammation of the tendons, a.k.a Tendinitis.
This inconvenient lady came slowly, almost imperceptibly. When I started taking Krav Maga, however, I was forced to discover that my ability to do push-ups – which had always been non-existent for lack of biceps – had got a thousand times worse: I was unable to even open my hands flat on the floor without yelling in pain. My instructor did not hesitate to blame Mr. Computer, and taught me some stretching exercises for hands, fingers and wrists (while everyone continued suffering with their push-ups).
This was but the beginning of Ms. Tendinitis´ visit to this humble writer. Since I did not know her in person, I at first mistook her for her cousin, the frightening Ms. WRULD (Work Related Upper Limb Disorder), a.k.a. RSI (Repetitive Strain Injury).
I was terrified. I started to picture in my mind what would become of my poor dissertation, abandoned forever, a rough diamond that would never see the sunlight. Imagination got carried away as lamented the loss of a brilliant writing career, cut at the root by a silly obsession to type everything that head and fingers came across, for the mere love of a keyboard´s tec-tetec-tec.