With my half century approaching I’ve not really suffered any of the real problems of age – but ever since I turned 40 and realised my warranty had effectively expired, the ageing process has been an accumulation of small inconveniences and indignities (the latter usually visited by some dangerously young-looking health professional or other pointing out that x is only to be expected at one’s advancing age). I remained braced for the menopause, and resigned to the possibility of reading glasses, but what I wasn’t expecting was to have a lifetime’s habit cruelly snatched away from me.
Not cycling (it remains my chief hope for holding back time), but reading in bed. Ever since I can remember, I have read my books in bed while lying on my side. This remains the last thing I do every night, even if only for a page or two, curled up under the duvet and reading until the words stop making sense, before falling asleep. Sadly no more. For I have developed what Dr. Google has diagnosed as a rotator cuff injury (so much more impressive sounding than a sore shoulder). Not only can I not read comfortably in bed, I now can’t sleep comfortably either and – most distressing of all – it’s painful to reach out for my cup of coffee from the coffee table when lounging on the sofa.
Obviously the response to ‘Doctor it hurts when I do this’ is to stop doing it, so I’ve had to try various tactics – reading on the other side (but then my bedside light is in the wrong place and I’d probably only end up knackering the other one too), reading sitting up in bed (wrong), reading lying flat with my book above my head (wronger than wrong), and (inevitably) hoping it’s got better and going back to reading on my right side (ouch, but oh it just feels so natural). I’ve also discovered that when I wake up at four am and need to go back to sleep before I start systematically visiting all my anxieties in turn to keep them all fresh, my body’s signal to the brain that it’s time to go back to sleep is to turn onto my right side. So I’m getting up either in pain or unrefreshed, or a combination of both, and it’s making me grumpy.
More to the point, it’s got so that I no longer really look forward to going to bed with a book which, as a former boarding school pupil, has always been one of my chief pleasures in life (I discovered fairly quickly that going to bed early was the best way to get undisturbed reading time alone, something it had never occurred to them to ban until then). A quick search of the internet suggests that the answer may be better pillows and/or a replacement mattress (this mainly according to sites that sell mattresses). It also suggests that the world of pillows has moved on from just being a bag stuffed with feathers (I don’t know about you, but I’ve read enough fairy tales to be wary of sleeping on anything that bills itself as being made of ‘memory foam’). This all feels a bit complicated because you can pay anything from £15 to £100 for a pillow and no guarantee that it will do any good.
So, loyal readers – any recommendations as to pillows for the confirmed side sleeper? Or is this just one of the many downward steps on the road to dereliction?