[I'd better not hear that your mind was in the gutter when you read that title; I'm not that kind of blogger. Somebody will be sent to stand in the corner. You know I'll do it.]
If you think about it, even the most careful individual in the whole world will have at least one injury in their life. Fortunately, modern healthcare has made tremendous strides in fixing up human bodies. Though we focus on illnesses we can't cure, just think of what we can do. Consequently, though I have been injured a time or two...or three (okay, between ten and fifteen...but not more than twenty), each and every time, the injury healed and I returned to all the daily activities I did before the injury. Amazing. It gave me that feeling of invincibility that comes with being incredibly short sighted and taking credit for doing nothing tangible.
Then I arrived on the flipside of fifty. Every old injury I ever had in my life has come back to haunt me. Even those that were situated way, way back in the cobwebbed corners of my brain: they're back. Aches and pains are silently turning me into "an old lady" or what I envisioned "old lady" was all about.
This is my own fault for not obeying the law. By that, I mean the one law that I apparently have no respect for: the Law of Gravity. I'm really bad at that one and I hate to admit it. I've got all the pangs and misery associated with two broken ankles and a nicely snapped off humerus and ulna to show for my failure to yield to that law. Even when I thought that I had gotten off easy, those bumps and snaps return. I believe some of my aches and pains can be attributed to my history of spectacular "agony of defeat" falls when I skied, if you can call it that. Cessation of all skiing activity was directly related to a phenomenal fall when I landed on my tail bone and felt it in every inch of my spine, all the way to my skull. Throbbing aches have started to accompany all those memories.
Flying was an issue for me, too. While on a bike, a car ran a red light and hit me, sending me flying into a windshield. This is not first class flying by any stretch of the imagination. A shorter flight in a car was taken years later when a furniture truck hit the back of my car going about 61 mph. Cool fact: whiplash is a totally real thing, folks. Those aches visit regularly.
And so, we arrive at the present day, or should I say night? That is when the problems start. My husband will go to bed a full three hours before I do, so I try very hard to sneak into bed and not wake him. I feel like I'm getting ready to burglarize the place as I try to slide in and make my attempts to secure a position of comfort. A large body pillow, two regular pillows and a neck pillow need to be in the exact position to accomplish that. With one arm under the pillow beneath my head, and the opposite leg bent and laying on the body pillow, I still struggle to get my other arm on a second pillow to sleep pain free (rotor cuff surgery).
Imagine finding a person in a pile of your laundry on your bed; it sort of looks like that. Or maybe like your washer threw up a load of laundry which included a person. Yeah; that's it.
Once I get the big positions down pat, I have to do the little tweaks, like moving down far enough to allow my feet to hang over the bottom, so they're not bent at a weird angle - sure to cause stiffness in the morning. Proudly, I can say that is not due to an injury. A penchant for high heels during the disco years resulted in a nasty big toe joint that bullies me with regularity and forces me to buy expensive shoes. If my husband made the bed, there's a chance he tucked in the sheets, so I'll have to kick those out in slow motion, still trying not to wake him. Lastly, the neck pillow actually goes under the wrist of the arm under my head to keep my elbow and wrist in a comfy spot.
Usually, I lay there for five or six minutes before deciding I actually would be more comfortable facing the other way, so I reverse the whole shebang.
If I haven't woke my husband by then, I lay there and worry that he might be in a coma; should I try to wake him, just to make sure? You know everyone would talk about me and say, "Good grief, how could she have laid there all night and not know he was in a coma?" So, there's that...
I've fantasized that a peeping Tom might think I am 1) having a seizure or 2) practicing my swimming. It feels like the Olympic trials for full-on hobbling events.
Feeling under the weather, I went to bed early the other day. That's rare for me. My husband informed me that he knew I was really sick because I just laid down and went to sleep.