Trapped

Everyone has that moment. Miranda Hobbes had it. Same for Liz Lemon. That brief moment of realization that you’re going to die all alone and it’d be weeks before your neighbors realized something was wrong. Since my downstairs neighbors are on tour, it would take even longer in my case.

The air was dry when I woke up this morning. I had unplugged the humidifier a few days ago and forgotten to plug it back in. I rolled onto my stomach and slid my arm between the gaps in the headboard to reach the plug. When I inserted my head into another gap and pressed my ear against the wall, I could almost see what was behind the bed.

My fingers closed around the plug and got it into the socket. The humidifier clicked on. I relaxed my hand and pulled back, but my shoulder would not budge. In the seconds it had taken me to get this done, my shoulder had managed to weld itself against the frame. I shifted and tried again. No luck. I shook the frame with my cheek flat against the wall with not results. My arm was one with the bed and I could not get it out. I struggled against frame but it was like trying to reason with a beartrap.

Maybe if I pulled hard enough I’d be able to dislocate my shoulder to escape à la Martin Riggs. I’ve separated that shoulder a few times anyway, so it might come off easily. Nope. That didn’t work. I was stuck. In bed. I needed help.

It was early enough that maybe my friend from across the street was still home. She had keys to my place. Did I leave my phone on the nightstand? I reached behind me and flapped around knocking a jar of pens, alarm clock, a book, some tamarind candy. I didn’t even know if the phone was there. As I struggled against the frame I realized my apartment was messier than usual, with discarded wigs (one of them purple), petticoats, baking pans, and shoes everywhere. And there were dishes in the sink! What would whoever found me dead think?

There was a panicky taste on my tongue and I was starting to hyperventilate. This would not do. I took a deep breath and relaxed against the frame. I turned my head and gently slid it back out. Flattening myself against the bed, I pressed mattress under my shoulder with my free hand managed to slide my shoulder back out, and lived to blog about it.