Doctor John has carpal tunnel syndrome. We saw his wrist braces for the first time when we went over to he-&-Richard's house for Chad's wake. He claims it's due to too much mountain biking, weight lifting, and inserting catheters into the feebling hearts of tiny babies. All day long, Doctor John is sliding the first thin filament of medicine into the bodies of sick newborns. His body can't keep up with the perfection it requires.

I'm terrified of developing this condition. I'm in a high-risk population because I spend so much time at a computer, typing and doing the same kind of precise clenching movements with which Doctor John saves babies' lives, only for nothing nearly so exalted.

And I pill-roll. Meaning that for almost every moment that my hands are not otherwise occupied, they execute a slight movement that resembles rolling a little ball of paper back and forth between two fingers, again and again. Interestingly, pill rolling is also a symptom manifested by Parkinson's patients, and I believe by some schizophrenics. My pill rolling differs from their in two ways: I roll between the tip of one finger and the back of another (centering around the cuticle), and my behavior is under enough conscious control that I can stop it at will. Like breathing, it then tends to start up again on its own some time after I stop paying attention to it.

Most people never notice the pill rolling, and I usually have to tell a friend before they become aware of it. In public, I tend to unconsciously hide a hand from view so it can pill-roll in peace. I've tried to quit a couple of times, mostly because I found it irritating to have such a visible process outside of my range of control, but my hands quickly betray my will and return to their familiar tics.

But I'm trying to quit again. I'm typing this with Band-Aids wrapped around the index and middle fingers of each hand. They will disrupt the tactile stimulation generated from pill-rolling, and hopefully allow me to bring the process under the umbrella of conscious behavior. I look ridiculous, like a child that has ignored warnings not to touch the hot stove, but looking ridiculous is often the price of greater freedom.

I'm not sure why I suddenly feel so motivated to quit my familiar pill-rolling. The vague threat of carpal tunnel syndrome provides a reputable excuse, but I sense it's a sham. I want to know what my hands will do if they give up their private and ritualistic clenching. Without themselves to hang on to, I'm curious to know what they will reach out to embrace.