The medical experts have always told me that if I push too hard I will end up with unusable wrists. The theory is that when you get too much movement the pain becomes unbearable and they have to fuse the bones. I am disagreeing, as I often do, with accepted medical practice. I think that they misunderstand pain and, obviously, I think I know better.
I am pushing my exercise hard, I am forcing the wrists to accept higher and higher loads. Normal movements have an associated level of pain, but its tolerable. In fact here my tattoos come in handy, as any tattooed person will tell you its not pain it’s discomfort. I also get random stabbing pains, I reach out or turn or do nothing and a shooting pain is my reward. I don’t consider this to be debilitating, more of an inconvenience. Yes it hurts, yes it disrupts what I am doing but its only fleeting. So my argument remains that only by pushing myself will I maximise recovery. I didn’t used to say ouch as much as I do now, anyone that bugged my flat or hotel room would think I was being attacked. But ouch is only a word, and pain is only a passing moment. In fact this is not bad or troublesome, this is simply my new normal.
I have no doubt that I am building a whole heap of trouble for my old age. But I am covered in tattoos and forever being asked ‘won’t they look rubbish when your really old?’ The answer, of course, is that they will only look as bad as the canvas. One shouldn’t live with an eye on the affects in old age, one should live to create memories that will fill the thigh light years.
Stubbornness has got me this far, further than anyone dreamt was possible, how far will it take me? Stick with me and we will find out if the world of medicine is cleverer than I am, or if I might just prove them wrong. After all I’m not old yet……