I can’t lie on my left hand side
for any length of time any more without there being consequences… but if I lie
on my right hand side, the left arm doesn’t seem able to find itself a
comfortable spot.
This, as they say, isn’t the worst
thing to have to put up with, but it’s not
great either.
I, of course, put it all down to
that abstract “catch-all” I’ve been using recently - “Just part of getting old”
- but my Beloved dismisses such talk from her youngish, brightish, whatever the
opposite of “better” half is, and tells me not to carry on with that kind of
talk.
She is right, of course…
But sometimes the fates are gonna
gitcha…
So there I was, late in the
evening, not really managing to sleep when I rather foolishly turned over onto
my left hand side, crushing my arm beneath me and generally forgetting the lack
of wisdom that such a position indicates.
The usual numbness started to
overtake me but I ignored it, only for a sharp pain to manifest itself in my
neck.
Like an idiot, I decided that
this was probably just a blip, and it would most likely just go away in a
second or two and, instead of leaping up and bellowing “Ow!
Ow-ow-ow-ow-OWWWW!!!” like some kind of Drama Queen, I lay there letting it
hurt me for about thirty seconds until I relented and did the whole “Ow!
Ow-ow-ow-ow-OWWWW!!!” thing anyway.
Sigh!
This was, quite obviously, a
major mistake because I ended up lying there in complete agony for hours,
totally unable to find any position at all in which I could feel at least
vaguely comfortable, and allowing the Chimp running the night-shift in my brain
to remind me of all of my mother’s spinal horrors, my father’s struggles with
his spondylitis, whether I’m getting rheumatism or arthritis, the fact that I hold my “Tappity-Tap” Kindle far too long in a particular position, and all of those “shock moments” when I’m changing gear in the
car, or opening up the tea caddy, or trying to do something “masterful and
manly” like turning on a tap, opening up a bag of crisps, or taking the lid off a jar of jam.
Eventually, I got up and heated
up the wheat bag in the microwave to apply some heat treatment and add some
much needed support to my neck.
That didn’t work.
Well, it sort of did, but didn’t,
if you get my meaning.
Then I stumbled through the
darkness and hauled an old beanbag out of the chaos of the attic room to
provide additional support to my pillows, and tried once more to get
comfortable whilst running fantasies through my head about either dying or
getting a “proper” massage.
My own particular Chimp is a
strange and peculiar creature.
Anyway, after about another hour
of this, I eventually gave in and sought out the paracetamol and, eventually,
drifted off into a few hours’ sleep, waking with the prospect of a few days of
stiffness and discomfort on my left hand side.
So what am I doing wingeing away
about it to you lot, then, eh? Well, to be perfectly honest, I don’t really
know, but… well, in the absence of anything else to talk about, I suppose we
all fall back upon our aches and pains, gripes and grumbles from time-to-time.
After all… it’s just part of
getting old, isn’t it…?
“SHUT UP!!!”
Aches and pains? I could write a book.
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