Another fall, another war wound.
|Bloodied, but undaunted|
After a particularly nasty fall earlier this year, or maybe late last year - these events tend to meld into each other - I swore I’d stop falling asleep sitting on the side of the bed. At around 5 am, after my umpteenth pee last night, I sat down on my bed. Lying down involves quite a bit of pain, thus the reluctance to rush the process.
After sitting for a while I fell asleep. Though asleep, I was conscious of the fact that if I didn’t hold onto my grab-rail, or wake up, I’d fall. Focusing my mind, I tried to move my arms, but they were leaden. Time seemed to hang in the air as I felt the inexorable force of gravity tilting my top half from the waist.
At this point, there were three directions of travel my rebellious body could take. It could fall to the left, a soft-ish landing on pillows; backwards, the lower back and hips taking the hit; or, to the right, a one-way-ticket to Painsville.
Yet, despite my brain begging my body to obey, mind over my mass of matter failed. I punctually arrived at Painsville, meeting the deck, mostly, with my forehead; but the nose nosing ahead by a nose to take the deck.
Though this is one way to awaken from an imprisoned state of sleep, it’s not to be recommended. And, after struggling for nearly half-an-hour I was back on the side of my bed; but this time, fuck the pain, I laid straight down surrendering myself to a short spell of agony.