Sleepy Time, Sort Of…

I've been reminded a few times today that there’s been a longer than usual break since my last post, I’m still here!

There’s been quite a bit going on around here, though nothing that I felt particularly moved to write about. The IV pole and pump that had been delivered were taken away again just a few days later (funding was not approved for full-time residency of the equipment in our apartment – where oh where will I now hang the cured salami?)

Tomorrow morning more medical supplies arrive – catheter kits to be implemented as needed. Probably more than you really needed to know, but that’s my reality. This isn’t pretty and certainly isn’t much fun. It gets less enjoyable with every week that passes.

In preferring to avoid getting into the unsettling details of my physical health tonight, I thought I’d dive into my “blog notes”, emails that I’ve sent to myself when a blog post idea occurs to me but I’m not in a position to write it up at that moment. Usually because it’s in the middle of the night and I’m trying hard to enforce a no-technology rule between 3 am – 9 am. I may be wide awake, but it makes my friends feel better if they believe I’ve had a decent night of sleep. Mind you, in emailing myself I did utilize technology so I’m obviously not doing a great job of sticking to my guns.

Note from July 16th, time stamp of 4:34 a.m.. “Not finishing bubbl witch” (sic). I read this over a few times wondering what I might have meant (I never said that I was coherent in the middle of the night). I finally remembered, but it’s an irrelevant point to me at this moment.

I do get a few hours of sleep each night, yet even then it appears that my mind is keeping quite busy. I remember vivid dreams, but I also talk in my sleep. I have conversations with Suzanna, hearing her end and replying with no recollection the next morning of what we discussed. We’ve started recording my sleeping hours, here’s a gem from the other night.

Suz at 3:22 a.m. heard “Are you trying to wake me?”

“No, why?” she asks.

“It sounded like a thumb trying to wake a finger”.

If anyone knows what a restless thumb might sound like, do let me know. We’re days later still laughing when we think about where that exchange might have gone had I kept talking. There’s plenty more where that came from, I’m sorry to admit. Conversations about fried chicken (surprising coming from me, I have an anaphylactic allergy to poultry and haven’t eaten it on purpose in about twenty five years), about potential death brought on by my arm that fell asleep, asking Suz if she’s cooking Chinese food (she wasn’t, apparently I misinterpreted the stink of skunk wafting in from outside) and then telling her I was too tired to chew any food anyway.

Tonight? Talk of travel would be a nice change. And so would remembering it.