Thoughts & Prayers - My Carpal Tunnel Nightmare
News4U Evansville - February 2026
Danny Browning
Happy February! I'd love to say I've been working hard to type this out for you. Truly, I would. But I can't, because my hands are currently about as useful as two overcooked hot dogs someone dropped behind Huck's. So I'm dictating this into my phone like I'm recording a hostage video. Blink twice if you want autocorrect to stop turning "carpal tunnel" into "carpool tuna."
The numbness is the absolute worst. Have you ever been jarred awake in the middle of the night, and your hands are just gone? Like your fingers rage-quit your body while you were sleeping? No two-week notice. Just disconnected. I'm sitting up at 3 a.m., shaking my arms like I'm trying to summon the Wi-Fi gods. Nothing. At times, my hands felt like the ghost of a really hot RadioShack employee was haunting me. All static. No signal.
Eventually, a doctor goes, "Yeah, that's carpal tunnel." But it's the way he told me. He might as well have said, "Oh yeah - that's the flu. Everybody gets that."
So I had the surgery. The surgeon sliced open my wrist like he was looking for the prize in a Cracker Jack box. Even worse, he didn't even knock me out. No meds or a punch in the face or anything. I was wide awake. Fully conscious. Because apparently, anesthesia is more of a suggestion now. Also, I was expecting the surgery to be like Grey's Anatomy: dramatic lighting, urgent whispers, maybe some McDreamy nurses. It. Was. Not. This was more like Grey's Discount Auto Repair. Just fluorescent lights and casual confidence.
Good news, I had a little curtain up so I couldn't see my own wrist meat, which I appreciated until the surgeon started chatting like we're waiting on a bus together. Not about my health, or science, or important stuff like that. He was telling everyone in the room about his new Bluetooth speaker. Mid-procedure. He's like, "The bass is unreal. Ten-hour battery life." WHAT?!? Sir. You are elbow-deep in my carpal canal. This feels like information I don't need right now.
But I did it! I survived! However, I still can't type. Hands are kind of important, I'm learning. I'm voice-to-texting like a boomer trying to order a pizza. Half of this rant exists because Siri thinks "nerve damage" is "nerd sandwich." She's not wrong. I did get emotionally wounded.
So if you're struggling with this horrible disease, don't be afraid to get it fixed! Find a great surgeon and a great hospital, and you will feel much better. But take my advice and have them knock you out.
The Wi-Fi speaker doesn't sound that great.
The numbness is the absolute worst. Have you ever been jarred awake in the middle of the night, and your hands are just gone? Like your fingers rage-quit your body while you were sleeping? No two-week notice. Just disconnected. I'm sitting up at 3 a.m., shaking my arms like I'm trying to summon the Wi-Fi gods. Nothing. At times, my hands felt like the ghost of a really hot RadioShack employee was haunting me. All static. No signal.
Eventually, a doctor goes, "Yeah, that's carpal tunnel." But it's the way he told me. He might as well have said, "Oh yeah - that's the flu. Everybody gets that."
So I had the surgery. The surgeon sliced open my wrist like he was looking for the prize in a Cracker Jack box. Even worse, he didn't even knock me out. No meds or a punch in the face or anything. I was wide awake. Fully conscious. Because apparently, anesthesia is more of a suggestion now. Also, I was expecting the surgery to be like Grey's Anatomy: dramatic lighting, urgent whispers, maybe some McDreamy nurses. It. Was. Not. This was more like Grey's Discount Auto Repair. Just fluorescent lights and casual confidence.
Good news, I had a little curtain up so I couldn't see my own wrist meat, which I appreciated until the surgeon started chatting like we're waiting on a bus together. Not about my health, or science, or important stuff like that. He was telling everyone in the room about his new Bluetooth speaker. Mid-procedure. He's like, "The bass is unreal. Ten-hour battery life." WHAT?!? Sir. You are elbow-deep in my carpal canal. This feels like information I don't need right now.
But I did it! I survived! However, I still can't type. Hands are kind of important, I'm learning. I'm voice-to-texting like a boomer trying to order a pizza. Half of this rant exists because Siri thinks "nerve damage" is "nerd sandwich." She's not wrong. I did get emotionally wounded.
So if you're struggling with this horrible disease, don't be afraid to get it fixed! Find a great surgeon and a great hospital, and you will feel much better. But take my advice and have them knock you out.
The Wi-Fi speaker doesn't sound that great.
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Danny Browning is a nationally touring comedian, professional event producer, and the founder of Laughing Dad Entertainment. A Southern Indiana native, Danny doesn't just perform at events; he builds them from the ground up. Through his production company, he regularly produces high-end comedy fundraisers, corporate galas, and live theater shows across Evansville, Newburgh, and Jasper, managing everything from run-of-show logistics to the final punchline.
Link: Buy Tickets for our Upcoming Evansville Comedy Shows |
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Danny Browning | Comedian, Humorist & Monthly Troublemaker for News4U Evansville