Ow, my hand

When was the last time you wrote something substantive — a letter, a story, a journal entry, etc. — by hand? Could you ever imagine returning to a pre-keyboard era?

I actually made quite a nuisance of myself, and made my poor physical therapist’s life hell, over this very issue.

See, we had to teach me to write by hand again, fine motor control skills. That’s the kind of thing that the type of stroke I had does the biggest number on. A very minor stroke, and I got insanely lucky (I’m totally recovered, thanks).

But part of the recovery therapy involved walking (not too bad), stairs (easy-peasy after a day working on walking), and then fine motor skills. Walking was never seriously affected anyway.

My therapist demanded I write things, by hand. Which I hadn’t done for a good twenty years before the stroke. I’m a digital kid, always have been a computer-phile nerd, I totally Grokked keyboards from even before they became separate from terminals.

So I gave her hell. She wasn’t teaching me the type of motor skills I actually used, she was making me write. With a pen. How…twentieth century.

Fortunately, she persisted (and she should have, don’t take any lip from that brat)! And though I still don’t write much of anything by longhand, I am awfully glad she did.

‘Cause, hey, I’m writing. Turns out those fine motor skills are pretty damned important. Typewriter or keyboard or pen or pencil or crayon, even a piece of slate and a bar of soap. Need to write.

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Drool and Dropping Things

2 thoughts on “Ow, my hand”

  1. Well, a handy thing to have. (har har) Someone who kicks your butt and makes you work. Does your P.T. do housecalls?

    All joking aside, glad to see there is an actual physical use for the art of writing; I think humans tend to forget that, myself included.

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