One of the little (ha!) white pills that supposedly take away the pain danced into my mouth as I climbed under the covers, and contrary to popular belief, did NOT make a koala crap a rainbow in my brain.
Around 1:30 I woke to the sensation of someone taking a baseball bat to my arm. I shook off the vestiges of dream and lay there in the dark, crying to myself, trying to find a position that wouldn't inspire steam-rollers of ouchie to run up and down my arm.
Another pill crawled out of the bottle and past the obscenities that were escaping into the night.
Then the sharks came. Shadowy and animated, they circled my arm and attacked at random intervals. My vision was letterboxed, and I realized I was still asleep.
So I shook it off again, but only the animation vaporized. Everything else, including the pain, remained.
Every time I would stop concentrating on being awake, the shadowy SeaLab animations would return to harass me, making me move, making my arm scream along its broken length.
Finally, I got up and pressed play on the cd player. The room filled with the song stylings of John Mayer live in Birmingham CD #2. John kept away the attackers, but as soon as his music stopped, they returned. I must have listened to the CD play through 3 or 4 times before I finally gave up and let myself fall into oblivion. I'd found one place to put the arm that didn't set it on fire-- cradled atop my chest as I lay on my back. Definitely NOT my natural sleeping position.
So each time my nocturnal consciousness would decide it was time to move, I would wake in a flash of swearing and force myself back into the safe position.
This went on until about 6AM. Then I just lay awake, waiting for the alarm so I could tell work they could let the fucking off commence, because today was sleep day.
Too much ouch