Bedbound

I woke up sweating in a straitjacket the other night.

That’s what it felt like, anyway. I was lying on my back, arms at my sides, the covers up to my chinny chin chin. When I tried to pull them down, my left arm stirred minimally, the right one not at all. Upright, I can usually use the left hand to help the right, like a child with a retarded sibling, but that night I got nowhere. In fact, the more I squirmed, the tighter the bind. It was like a full-body Chinese finger trap. Then I tried my legs, but they proved equally useless.

I sleep with a button on each side to summon Dan, but with my hands glued to my hips, they were hopelessly out of reach. Fortunately, he awoke on his own and set me free.