I'm "sleeping". I sleep with a body pillow. It's the third body in our King Size Bed and a cover hog. When my hips wake me up because they've been in one position too long, I roll over keeping the pillow grasped between my arms and knees. All the covers come with it, if I'm not careful. I don't want to do this, because then it wakes up the bear (my husband) who sleeps in the bed with me and my pillow. Without the pillow, my arms collapse pulling on my shoulders, pulling on my neck. My hips ache, my knees holler. All this happens even with the pillow, but the aches geometrically multiply without. I become an algorithm for pain.
I finally dragged my body off the couch and into bed at 5 a.m. Too late/early. I took 3 naps yesterday, 8-10 a.m., 12-2 pm, 4-9 p.m. I fought it, but couldn't keep my eyes open. Allergic reaction to food. Apparently, I am now reacting to hot rice cereal...I had suspected my puffed rice cereal for a while now. I guess it's confirmed. I idly wonder if this will extend to cooked rice...I haven't noticed any problems with it. With all the naps, my sleep schedule is all messed up. I am aware of my husband when he gets out of bed and shuts the door to the office so he can play Company of Heroes on the computer. I can't move, I can't open my eyes. I fall deeper into sleep...I'm in my "allergy coma". My sleep is chock full of dreams, tho I can't bring them to mind as I write this. I want to wake up enough to see what time it is. I have set the alarm for 12 noon, so I don't sleep too long.
I sleep. I dream. I try to wake up. Swimming toward the surface like a pearl diver too long below collecting oysters, but I can't break the surface. I sink below, pulled down by the weight of my dreams. I settle, composting in the silt. I dream. Sometime later, I move toward the light again. This time, my body follows my mind. I feel tingling in my hands, my feet. I can actually move now. I roll to my back, wiggling my fingers, my toes. My appendages move slowly. Jointed pieces of wood weighted with rusted iron bars at the end. My joints ACHE, THROB, PULSE with heaviness and pain. I struggle for a synonym for pain...can't find one. I try to open my eyes. Glued shut. Once, twice, three times...success! They're open. Bright light....aaahh! Shut them again. I let light, life, seep into me. Breathe deep. Roll over. Grab my small bedside clock. Squint myopic eyes to see....shit!! Three o'clock!! So much for my "alarm"! Huh! I'll have to check it when I have a half a brain. I struggle to sit on the side of the bed. I balance there while trying to think of the "next" thing to do. My bladder makes itself known to me. I stand up, balancing on stiff joints too long in one position. I take a step, another. I move like Frankenstein post holing his way through deep snow. My knees curse me. I curse them back. I make it to the bathroom without running into anything. At night, in the dark, I have run into walls, door frames, chairs. Running into the edge of the door head on hurts the most. Leaves a beautiful mark on your forehead and cheek to ponder in the morning, wondering what nighttime shenanigans you were up to as your brain slept.
I struggle back from the bathroom and sit a while on the edge of the bed. Just sitting. Can't think. Just feeling...stiff, achey, throbbing. Head full of cottonballs, moths drunk on light and whiskey. I blink and stagger around the room as I collect my clothes. Today I have to sit to put on my pants. Somedays I can still balance and put them on standing up.
Dressed. Bladder emptied. I grab my Kindle and posthole toward the couch. I don't look in the mirror. I know too well what I will see. An animorphed version of my face. Puffed up like a pufferfish. Attractive bags under my eyes. Creases in the puffiness of my face where the folds of the pillowcase have invaded. My mind is as congested as my nose and sinuses. I know that it will take 1-3 hours of just sitting before I have the ability to get up and actually complete a task. If I get up and try too soon, I will just literally go in circles because I can't hold a thought in my head long enough to complete it, much less think of the "next step".
It is frustrating this sitting. I'm starved! But I must wait, for coherence, clear thinking, energy. To get off the couch. My body tells me it's past time (by 12 hours!) for my pain meds. Slog my way back to the bathroom. There are rows of pills, supplements, bottles waiting for me in the medicine cabinet. I only open one bottle. I don't have the wherewithal to figure out which other ones I need and note the time. I swallow the pills that will calm the achiness in my body enough to move.
I move gracelessly to the kitchen. Slowly assemble my ingredients. I can still eat eggs. I prepare my old stand-by, egg omelet with cumin, and green chiles topped with Rice Mozarella cheese...oh God! Rice Cheese! Well, we'll just have to eat and see. I drink my water, eat my omelet. I flounder back to the couch. The place I haunt while waiting for my brain to descend and reconnect with the rest of me. If things go well, I will get up and make myself a smoothie to which I add my customized powdered supplements (32!). It sure beats trying to swallow all those horse pills, which seem to get stuck in my throat as of late, burning a hole in my esophagus instead of my stomach.
I sigh. This is not a good day. Not a bad day. This is a recovery day. I will just sit and wait and think. Higher level thinking is not possible. My blog will receive information from my viscera, my heart, possibly from my soul, but not from my brain. That will be for a "Good" day.
Sayonara and Peace,
Kismet
I finally dragged my body off the couch and into bed at 5 a.m. Too late/early. I took 3 naps yesterday, 8-10 a.m., 12-2 pm, 4-9 p.m. I fought it, but couldn't keep my eyes open. Allergic reaction to food. Apparently, I am now reacting to hot rice cereal...I had suspected my puffed rice cereal for a while now. I guess it's confirmed. I idly wonder if this will extend to cooked rice...I haven't noticed any problems with it. With all the naps, my sleep schedule is all messed up. I am aware of my husband when he gets out of bed and shuts the door to the office so he can play Company of Heroes on the computer. I can't move, I can't open my eyes. I fall deeper into sleep...I'm in my "allergy coma". My sleep is chock full of dreams, tho I can't bring them to mind as I write this. I want to wake up enough to see what time it is. I have set the alarm for 12 noon, so I don't sleep too long.
I sleep. I dream. I try to wake up. Swimming toward the surface like a pearl diver too long below collecting oysters, but I can't break the surface. I sink below, pulled down by the weight of my dreams. I settle, composting in the silt. I dream. Sometime later, I move toward the light again. This time, my body follows my mind. I feel tingling in my hands, my feet. I can actually move now. I roll to my back, wiggling my fingers, my toes. My appendages move slowly. Jointed pieces of wood weighted with rusted iron bars at the end. My joints ACHE, THROB, PULSE with heaviness and pain. I struggle for a synonym for pain...can't find one. I try to open my eyes. Glued shut. Once, twice, three times...success! They're open. Bright light....aaahh! Shut them again. I let light, life, seep into me. Breathe deep. Roll over. Grab my small bedside clock. Squint myopic eyes to see....shit!! Three o'clock!! So much for my "alarm"! Huh! I'll have to check it when I have a half a brain. I struggle to sit on the side of the bed. I balance there while trying to think of the "next" thing to do. My bladder makes itself known to me. I stand up, balancing on stiff joints too long in one position. I take a step, another. I move like Frankenstein post holing his way through deep snow. My knees curse me. I curse them back. I make it to the bathroom without running into anything. At night, in the dark, I have run into walls, door frames, chairs. Running into the edge of the door head on hurts the most. Leaves a beautiful mark on your forehead and cheek to ponder in the morning, wondering what nighttime shenanigans you were up to as your brain slept.
I struggle back from the bathroom and sit a while on the edge of the bed. Just sitting. Can't think. Just feeling...stiff, achey, throbbing. Head full of cottonballs, moths drunk on light and whiskey. I blink and stagger around the room as I collect my clothes. Today I have to sit to put on my pants. Somedays I can still balance and put them on standing up.
Dressed. Bladder emptied. I grab my Kindle and posthole toward the couch. I don't look in the mirror. I know too well what I will see. An animorphed version of my face. Puffed up like a pufferfish. Attractive bags under my eyes. Creases in the puffiness of my face where the folds of the pillowcase have invaded. My mind is as congested as my nose and sinuses. I know that it will take 1-3 hours of just sitting before I have the ability to get up and actually complete a task. If I get up and try too soon, I will just literally go in circles because I can't hold a thought in my head long enough to complete it, much less think of the "next step".
It is frustrating this sitting. I'm starved! But I must wait, for coherence, clear thinking, energy. To get off the couch. My body tells me it's past time (by 12 hours!) for my pain meds. Slog my way back to the bathroom. There are rows of pills, supplements, bottles waiting for me in the medicine cabinet. I only open one bottle. I don't have the wherewithal to figure out which other ones I need and note the time. I swallow the pills that will calm the achiness in my body enough to move.
I move gracelessly to the kitchen. Slowly assemble my ingredients. I can still eat eggs. I prepare my old stand-by, egg omelet with cumin, and green chiles topped with Rice Mozarella cheese...oh God! Rice Cheese! Well, we'll just have to eat and see. I drink my water, eat my omelet. I flounder back to the couch. The place I haunt while waiting for my brain to descend and reconnect with the rest of me. If things go well, I will get up and make myself a smoothie to which I add my customized powdered supplements (32!). It sure beats trying to swallow all those horse pills, which seem to get stuck in my throat as of late, burning a hole in my esophagus instead of my stomach.
I sigh. This is not a good day. Not a bad day. This is a recovery day. I will just sit and wait and think. Higher level thinking is not possible. My blog will receive information from my viscera, my heart, possibly from my soul, but not from my brain. That will be for a "Good" day.
Sayonara and Peace,
Kismet
Tarin- Are You sure this is about You? LOL
ReplyDelete(sigh) me and too many others, right?
ReplyDelete