These are some of our pets, sleeping on our bed. It is 3:00 am and I am most envious of their ability to attain that state of nirvana known as sleep without hesitation or hindrance. I’m wide awake and the sleep isn’t coming.
Since the accident, sleep was a constant in the hospital but an elusive balm once I got home. I ditched the pain pills a few nights ago thinking they were part of the culprit. Without them, the feverish dreams and hallucinations that occurred in the middle of the night were gone. But now I just can’t get to sleep. I lay in bed, tossing around in search of the position that will finally put me under, playing soothing sounds on my iPad, or just staring at the clock. At some point it usually takes over but this night I feel particularly wired. I tried sleeping in the bed pictured, with my wife. It’s the most comfortable of our beds with a mattress that will down the heartiest of insomniacs. But not me. Not tonight. I tried the firmer mattress of the man cave bed, where I’ve spent most of my time since getting home but it offers no answers. I’ve tried some sleep aids but something in me defies them. And then, around sunrise when desperation has led to exhaustion, I zonk out until noon. This is not effective time management, especially considering I’d like to get back to doing some productive writing and editing, not lying in a haze.
I suspect a major culprit is the pain. This combination brace, bandage, medieval torture device they had around my lower left leg and ankle binds and bites at me all day. As chronicled in this blog before, sleep has always been an issue for me but never like this. By the time I get to bed, my leg and skin have had enough torture and no amount of Aleve or Vicodin can sooth all that away. Next week I get this monstrosity taken off and a real cast applied. And maybe then I can get a decent six, seven, maybe even eight hours. Maybe.