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Well, F**k: Plan B It Is. (Working title)

Repetitive Strain Injury, Compound Trauma Disorder, Tenosynovitis, De Quervain’s, Rheumatoid Arthritis. All terms I’ve been reading about for around a week and a half now because I finally let my ‘uber-focus’ tendencies get the better of me in an extreme chain mailing incident. With nary a knight to be seen. Except of course my own knight who dutifully shuffled me off to the walk-in clinic as soon as I would allow it. I thought it was sprained. I wish I’d thought to take some Ibuprofen before we left because the burning sensation and heavy joint-in-the-wrong-place effect it was having really started to hurt after sitting there for just over an hour. The pharmacy next door also closed about five minutes after I said no to wanting some Ibuprofen or something from next door, at the beginning of that hour.

I understand the waiting for the most part. It comes with going to the walk-in. More later. My wrist hurts.

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