How Voice Coding Saved My Wrists (And Maybe My Career)

I'm going to tell you a story that might sound familiar. If it does, please don't make the same mistakes I did.

Three years ago, I was at the peak of my coding career. Senior engineer at a well-funded startup. Shipping features daily. Racking up commits like they were going out of style. I felt unstoppable.

Then my right wrist started tingling.

The Slow Descent

At first, I ignored it. What developer hasn't had some wrist discomfort? I bought a better ergonomic keyboard—the kind that costs as much as a nice dinner—and kept grinding.

The tingling became pain. The pain became weakness. One morning, I couldn't grip my coffee mug without wincing.

The doctor's diagnosis: severe RSI (Repetitive Strain Injury) with early signs of carpal tunnel syndrome. His prescription: rest. Weeks, maybe months, of limited typing.

For a developer, that's like telling a pilot they can't fly.

Rock Bottom

I tried to power through. I am not smart. Within a month, I could barely type for an hour without my wrist screaming. I started dreading work. Depression crept in. What was I if I couldn't code?

My manager was understanding, but there's only so long a company can wait for a senior engineer to recover. I saw the writing on the wall.

That's when a friend mentioned voice coding.

The Desperate Experiment

I was skeptical. Talking to my computer felt absurd. But desperation is a powerful motivator.

I started with Dragon for Mac, which was... okay. The learning curve was steep. My first attempts at voice coding were slower than typing with one finger. Much slower.

But my wrists didn't hurt.

So I kept at it. I learned the voice commands. I developed techniques. I switched to better tools as they emerged. Week by week, I got faster.

The Breakthrough

About two months in, something clicked. I stopped thinking about the voice interface and started just... coding. The words flowed. My hands rested. And miraculously, the code that appeared on screen was what I intended.

I returned to full-time work three months after my lowest point. My manager was shocked. "How are you typing all day?"

"I'm not."

What I Wish I'd Known

Looking back, here's what I wish someone had told me:

Prevention beats recovery. If I'd started voice coding before my wrists exploded, I could have avoided months of pain and fear. Now I use voice for about 60% of my input, even though my wrists have mostly healed. I never want to go back to that dark place.

The learning curve is real but shorter than you think. Two weeks to basic competency. Two months to true proficiency. That's nothing in a career.

Hybrid is the answer. I don't voice-code everything. Precise editing, quick terminal commands, and certain types of debugging are still faster by keyboard. The goal is reducing total keystroke volume, not elimination.

Your hands are your career. Programmers rarely think about this until it's too late. We're knowledge workers, sure, but our knowledge flows through our fingers. Protect them.

The Numbers Since Then

In the two years since I recovered:

• Zero days missed due to wrist pain
• Promoted twice (voice coding didn't hurt my productivity)
• Typing volume down ~50% from my peak
• Wrist strength actually improved (less strain = better recovery)

A Message to the Skeptics

I know some of you are reading this thinking "that won't happen to me." I thought the same thing. I was wrong.

RSI doesn't care how good your keyboard is. It doesn't care about your ergonomic chair or standing desk. It cares about repetition. Volume. The thousands of keystrokes you rack up every single day.

You don't have to wait for injury to try voice coding. Start now, while it's a choice rather than a necessity. Your future self will thank you.