Apparently standing for ten hours a day plus walking the half mile to/from the metro at a clipped pace has triggered my ankle injury from when I was training for the half and full marathons. As in, both ankles. Every night they ache and throb and scream. Every morning they are tender and tentative.
Last week was the first time it hurt as bad as the initial injury. I woke up and semi-limped around the apartment until my tendons warmed up. Because that’s all sorts of good news.
Worse still is that my hands and wrists have acquired a constant ache. They’re stiff, sore, and less dexterous and agile than they usually are. My knuckles look swollen, but I can’t decide if that’s true or if my eyes are playing tricks on me. I’m too scared to try on my rings for fear that they don’t fit. My dainty, slender, piano-playing fingers resemble those of an ogre. Fanfuckingtastic.
Apparently these symptoms are common; par for the course when standing on your feet squeezing pastry bags for hours on end. One of the other bakers had to get her wedding ring re-sized — not what I wanted to hear.
It’s gotten to the point where I’m debating seeing a doctor. My hands and wrists ache so much they wake me up at night. What happened to cupcakes being a cushy job?
