If you’d asked me in the middle of the night how I thought I’d be spending today, I might have guessed that I’d be in the emergency room having a bone in my arm set and cast. That’s because my guess at the time was that I’d broken something, or else it couldn’t possibly hurt that much. I spent the night with my left wrist cradled in my right hand, just to keep the pain to a minimum.

The fact that I’m here, the next day, typing with both hands tells me nothing was broken. The fact that I’m doing it with very little pain tells me I was probably being overly dramatic in the middle of the night, when I was answering imaginary questions from imaginary people. In fact, for most of the day today, I was able to forget completely how I’d spent the night in worry, stress and borderline agony.

It started when I went to bed last night, but at that time I’d already been asleep for an hour or more in the recliner, apparently in an awkward position that put stress on my wrist and arm. I didn’t know if I’d make it through the night, or what I might have to do in the morning to get past the pain. As it turned out, all I had to do was get up and go about my business. Early in the day I got to the point where I could hardly feel it at all.

Some of the residual pain returned later in the day, but it wasn’t bad enough to worry me. Besides, I’ve been through it already for one whole night, and I know I can survive it. Now it seems no worse than any of the other transient aches and pains that have been a more or less constant part of my life for the last few years, but that never keep me awake at night. Or I don’t suppose they do, anyway. Something does, but I’m pretty sure it’s not anything physical.