I've been a little slammed at work again lately, but the good news is I still managed to find some time to have mysterious, excruciating hand pain.

Back at the end of December I reached to grab a tissue and noticed a searing blast of electricity shoot from my wrist, up through the palm of my left hand. There was no traumatic incident I can point to before that, but pretty much since then, whenever I extend my arm and make a grabbing motion, it happens. I suspect it's a pinched nerve. (Kindly refrain from emailing me your masturbation theories. I'm right-handed.)

I finally got in to see a hand specialist yesterday. He asked a bunch of questions, had me squeeze hard steel devices, poked and prodded (and delicately caressed) my hands. Then he took me back to the fluoroscope. That's when things got crazy, radiation-style.

For those of you who have never had the pleasure - a fluoroscope is like a live-action x-ray. The doctor and I both sat in ordinary chairs, knee-to-knee on either side of 3-foot pole coming up from the floor with a camera mounted above it. No visible shields, no lead pants, nothing.

He rested my wrist on the top of the pole and there were my hand bones moving all around on the screen. Like a live tv show called "Steve's Boney Hand Bones!" Right there!

Madness.

The doctor wants to follow up with an MRI to hopefully shed some more light on what's going on. He's still isn't sure what's up, but based on what he's seen so far, he's not overly concerned. So that's comforting.

Now I just have to hope that he and I don't get hand and dick cancer from the fluoroscope.

(And I will miss his tender caress.)