Wooden Hands

Woke this morning without any feeling below my shoulders.

"My hands are asleep!" I said, after several futile attempts at turning off the alarm.

M snickered and put the pillow over his head.

It was like one of those nightmares where you are trying to run or scream or, well, move a tiny little switch into the "off" position, and your body refuses to obey. 

I stood there banging my arms together, hoping to knock some life back into my hands.

Very disconcerting. Happens a lot lately–only if I sleep on my back, side, or stomach. I haven't tried sleeping standing up.

Yet.

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