Am I dumb? Well, duh … I’m a guy

I’m writing this to apologize to my editor.

He was going to let me off this week because I’d been dumber than usual.

You see, I was busy being a “guy” and, now, I’m wrtiting this column for every “guy” out there.

“Men” won’t have to read it as they already understand the gist of

what I’m about to say.

If you’re wondering, the main distinction between the two groups is that “men” think before doing things. They also read instructions, do research, follow directions, and are open to argument and suggestions.

“Guys,” on the other hand, look at things, switch immediately into the “I can do that” mode, and march off smartly. Results range from success (extremely rare), to complete mess, and (often) to catastrophe.

Minor aside: I should never be left alone with a circuit breaker. Were circuit breakers designed with me in mind, they would have three positions, labeled “Tripped,” “Blown” and “Fried.”

But now to the topic for today.

I recently had minor surgery performed on one wrist and a rather hefty shot of steroids pumped into the other to relieve the rather severe case of Carpal Tunnel Syndrome I’d developed over a period of (actually, a lot of) years.

But, then, I’m a “guy.” So, when my fingertips first started tingling, did I think about it? Nope. When the tingling got worse and began spreading, did I do anything about it? Uh, no. Noting that stopping the things I was doing stopped the tingling, did I ever once stop doing (this is turning into a lovely sentence) the things I was doing? Not a prayer.

As this continued over the years, did I ever mention it to my doctor? Are you kidding? When it got so bad that I’d wake up at night with both hands numb, was I worried? Not as long as the ibuprofen held out. Did I become alarmed earlier this year when I began dropping tools while I hand sanded and re-stained the entire stairwell, all of the window casings, and some of the floor moulding? Only enough to mention it to my wife, who said I should tell my doctor.

I said I would and actually did — after I finished painting the exterior of the house (by hand), cutting down two small trees and removing their stumps (by hand), and noticing that, for periods that were getting a lot longer and could be brought on by any simple task, I couldn’t feel anything from my wrists down.

What finally convinced me was the thought that I might not be able to hold a rifle and hunt this season and, so, off I went to my doctor who was, thank heavens, a “man.”

He poked and prodded, had some tests run, and then told me — in so many words — that I had been, probably still was, and always would be, “dumb.”

There then came the required surgery on one hand and steroid injection into the other to repair all of the damage I’d done plus the explanations as to what I needed to be doing both for therapy and to prevent a recurrence of the problem.

Unfortunately, my surgeon made a huge mistake. He referred to the procedure as “minor” as, indeed, it was — taking only 20 minutes or so. However, to a “guy,” words like “minor” sound a lot like “can be ignored.” This was further buttressed by the fact that the numbness was gone, the incision was small, and several days had passed since the surgery. I figured I was fine even though neither the bandages nor the stitches had been removed.

So, when a delivery guy showed up at our house with a 60-pound package, I tried to lift it, was met with howls of protest from my wrists, and immediately dropped the whole thing.

Thankfully, no one else (especially my wife) had seen anything and I got away with it — until I went to write my column and found that my hands were revolting at about 400 words in.

Things got better after some rest and I put this one together as both an apology for nearly missing a deadline and a word of caution to every “guy” out there.

Don’t be dumb.

Unfortunately, the likelihood of any us following that suggestion is, of course, nonexistent.

I typed this, didn’t I?

Larry Simoneaux lives in Edmonds. Send comments to larrysim@comcast.net.