I don't know what sleep really knits up -- I'm told the way we read the Shakespeare quote is slightly askew to the original meaning* -- but it certainly sent me on a journey.
Sleep and I are not best friends. Oh, I love sleeping as much as anyone, though it can be fugitive. It's the laying down that doesn't work for me. A thin pillow and flat on my back makes for snorking, possible reflux and numb fingers and toes. No pillow spares the fingers and toes but the reflux risk is worse. A big wedge fixes all that, but makes my lower back hurt. Side sleeping can work but the cats complain, and if I don't lay just right, my neck hurts in the morning.
Yeah, yeah, life's tough when you're sleeping in a big ol' bed under a heated comforter-- Not complaining, only describing. I'm used to all that, and making occasional adjustments in the night.
But last night was long (I went to bed early) and when I awoke at six this morning to feed the cats, my right knee, the bad one, ached like never before, worse with weight on it, one hot, bright spot of pain at the lower left and radiating outward. I hobbled through cat-feeding and went back to bed, fearing the worst. Slumber fell on me like a load of gravel.
Three and a half hours later, sleep ebbed away and I sat up, still worried. H'mm. No pain from the knee. Flipped back the covers, sat up, stood up-- Not hurting. Took a few steps. My right knee is fine. Like it never even hurt.
Don't know what that was about but I'll take it.
* A "ravelled sleave" referred not to part of a garment but to a tangled mess of yarn, which needed to be untangled and "knit up" into a ball or skein to be useful. Or so I read.
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