The tension in my forearms and wrists has grown worse in the last few months. Either the desk job’s getting to me, or fencing has tired out my muscles (which is possible — the last time I used a sword this frequently was over a decade ago — but the tension’s crept into both wrists, not just the right). I’ve turned to a Bamboo stylus at home for mouse-related work, and to that most relaxed and ergonomic of implements, the fountain pen, for writing.
Of course, the fountain pen feels great to me mostly because I don’t use it except when writing fiction or correspondence – it’s a relief from the motions I force my body to make every day. And the ink sits well on a page. Still, I wonder what the 19th-century equivalent of the repetitive stress injury was. Did Bob Cratchett complain of aching wrists? Forearms? Eye strain? Dickens makes much of the ink-stained wretches. Was laundry the worst of their problems? Chemical poisoning from compounds in the ink (lots of great old painters ended up with heavy metal poisoning from their pigments)? Dangers of being bludgeoned with a blotter?
A question to research later. Especially if I can find a way to work it into a story…