Being tickled so hard that hysterical laughter turns into a painful scream, I wonder if you know that feeling, because that’s how I feel now except without the laughter! Suddenly the newspaper felt too heavy, or at least too awkward to hold; the wrists succumb to a pounding tympanic throb, so I apply the necessary strappings. Next the inevitable discomfort in the armpits, suddenly the skin feels at least two sizes too small for the torso it embraces; that aching laughter sensation, referred to earlier, holds both inner upper arms in thrall. I try, with only a modicum of success, to dampen the nausea response by clasping the upper arms almost tourniquet tight against my body.
To an onlooker it must seem as if I’ve been suddenly shocked into a distorted catatonic state.
It takes some time before I pluck up courage to extend my forearms away from the upper-arm locked torso. A sigh of relief murmurs forth, as I release myself from this temporary stasis; it’s almost as if I’d been holding my breath alongside clasping the upper arms to torso.
It’s proving difficult to catch up on some much needed rest, last night had been one of intense dis-ease best summed up by my posting on facebook at 3.30AM:
Once I stop feeling
my skin’s being flayed
whilst discomfort dances
I may get
some much needed
Night night folks!
I’m afraid the “Night night folks” was a little too optimistic. I finally managed a little, scarcely refreshing, shut-eye from around 6.00AM.