things move around

I first noticed that I was unusually and unaccountably prone to static shocks when I was about 21 or 22. At first it was just the odd day every now and then. I’d be ginger in my approach to anything metallic or electronic, which only worsened the inevitable volt-jolt when it came flickering up from my fingertips. On these days I took to covering my hands with my sleeves, and, when that grew ineffective, donning a discreet mitten for opening doors, pressing elevator buttons, starting the car, etc. I failed an accountancy exam because I forgot my mitt and was unable to use my calculator. I took care not to omit my mitt for the resit.

These sensitive days became more frequent, and when I was almost 24 I made the first of many fruitless visits to medical professionals. The consensus was that some people are just naturally prone to this kind of thing. When people don’t know the reason for a phenomenon, they often prefer to simply restate its existence - “it is what it is”. While unsatisfactory this is still better than god-believers who prefer “it is what it isn’t”.

Shortly after my rebuff by the medical profession, an incident occurred whereby I lost the affections of a good-hearted and attractive lady with numerous dental fillings.

Now my affliction asserted itself with more vigour than before. The shocks grew in magnitude and were frequently agonising, ripping up my arm past my elbow like virulent flukeworms in my bloodstream. The mittens were no longer effective. I felt like some kind of comic book freak. Perhaps the most frustrating aspect of it was that I could never be sure when it would strike. Sometimes, before picking up the phone or using an ATM, I would steel myself for a debilitating blow, only for nothing to happen. Other times I would approach casually and be incapacitated without warning. Although the pain was strictly temporary in my hands and lower arms, it began (for some reason) to accrue in my elbows. Just above my elbows, on the underside of my arm, to be exact. It built up slowly but it was gnawing and unreachable like some kind of weevil eating away at me from within. These days, my elbows are lost in a swirling nimbus of electrical agony. Effectively they no longer exist.

What?

Well, apart from the elbows I suppose I’m fine.

Yes, I know.

See you in a year then.