Sleep

Dear Dan, the nicest guy born, is coming to fetch me and we’re getting the 30 more pavers I need to finish the footpath.  He’s coming this afternoon. He'll help me unload them as well, leaving them where the work will be done. I’m not doing the work. I’m doing the planning and recruitment. Asking for help is how I’m going to get through this Summer and Fall with yard work. 

I’ve made a list of all the things I want to do in the garden this Summer while I can see everything. I’ve asked Jay to come for an hour to help me garden. We’ll start at the top of the list, and we’ll stop when we stop. Then I’ll ask another friend, and that’s how I’ll move down the list. My plan is to get through this year with the help of friends. Depending on how things go, I’ll be hiring a gardener/handy person next season. If I don’t need to ask Steve (Local Steve, not my ex) for help with the garden, I’m going to ask him to start on the footpath, and Steve (my ex) may finish it when he is here.

If all these things get done, there will only be watering for me to do, and I’ll hire a gardener to do the weeding and lawns. That’s my plan. I’m preparing for the worst. Since sciatica started, I’ve had two 2-week attacks in less than three months. Until a lot of time goes by, I will be living wary of inducing another attack. How to live with sciatica is something I hope Cory can tell me. Or perhaps he can refer me to some online resources. I want to know what kind of physical things I should not do.

I’d had two ridiculously painful nights. Normal nights are uncomfortable without marijuana, or lorazepam. I suppose alcohol would work, but I don’t like it.

When I was a kid, we lived very close to a church. And every Sunday through the day, and a lot of times in the morning until noon, it rang its bells. I had my first dreams of destruction over those bells. I wanted to sleep. All through my years of migraines—like FND, migraines are a neurological problem—I stayed awake all night in killer pain.  My migraines were 24-hours of Hell.

The sun just burst through the trees into my eyes and lighting up the anti-bird tape on my window. It’s golden, on a hot night in paradise. No matter how much pain I have, I have paradise … with a hot tub.

Back to sleep. I hate being unable to sleep in the night due to sickness, stress, or pain. Nothing is worse. There’s no escape from the real world. There’s no time for all your muscles to relax, and for the body to rest. Time goes very, very slowly, and then the essential responsibilities of the day must be done. 

I love sleep. I really love going to sleep with Sheba and waking up to Fred’s call from the top of the dresser. Ethel is, as always, in the bathroom, waiting for me to flush the toilet so she can start her day. There’s fresh water every day in the kitchen. It appears to belong to Fred. When he isn’t drinking from it, he’s putting his paws into it. I believe he’s testing the temperature. He talks as he stirs.

I love my bed. I even love my comforter of shame. My comforter has a nice soft cotton cover. It’s a lovely soft toothy fabric. It feels to me like thick pajama cloth. I wash it, but with three animals on it ever day, my down is clotted. Don’t visualize that. Oversharing? A few years ago, I decided I had to wash the quilt. I should have taken it to a dry cleaner in Nanaimo. It’s been clotted ever since.

But it keeps me warm, and I feel okay if I launder the cover often. I love cleaning it in the Summer when it can dry on the line, and I go to sleep with that wonderful fragrance of the outdoors when I to do bed. I really love my sleep.

FND made me move here. I love that there’s been some compensation. It also did another wonderful thing. It made me question the hospital about the HIV drug I was on. I felt the drug was the reason I’d been having horrid nightmares for 7 years. They changed the drug immediately and happily, and my sleep has been precious ever since.

Cory says to move around. I do. I’ve done little errands and I water every day. Yesterday, I walked to Ali and Peter’s and had a frozen yoghurt bar and a yak. We’ve become close friends thanks to the deck work together. I love Pete, and I think he enjoys my company. But the more I move around, the worse the night is, and I often cannot sleep. That is the worst.

I’ve just got to get to Friday and Cory. I want to start feeling better. I want to know what not to do, as well. I want to see if physio helps over the next couple of months, and if it stops the nights of sleep loss. If I continue to struggle with sleep, I’m going seek guidance from NP Jennifer.

•

There’s a cougar on the island and it was seen not far from me. I’m glad Sheba and I are not walking along on forest trails right now.

•

It hurts to read that some Italian children have become political footballs. They have been officially severed from their same-sex parents. Empowered by far-right parliamentarians, bureaucrats have removed the names of the parents from all official documents of the child. The children can remain with the parents, but they are not, officially, of their parents. Their documents will presumably be issued with a surname from the person surrendering the child for adoption. That’s full circle from the non-disclosure years that I lived through. And is shameful. They are playing with the identity and emotional security of a child. Shame on them. I’m disgusted so often by actions of people.

John sent me these photos he took when he was here for lunch on Monday.

This is the invitation I made for the annual gay party I have here when Steve visits.