Looking into holes. Part thirteen

 Last night was, I think, the first normal night’s sleep I’ve had since I came into hospital. My body clock has been all over the place and I remember early on crying for a sleeping pill although I was in fever. I’ve had whole nights staring at the ceiling, trying to glaze myself to sleep. I’ve watched the most interminable dross on Netflix hoping to drop off through boredom. I’ve slept fitfully , two hours here and there and found myself staring at the ceiling at 3 in the morning praying for dawn. Last night though, last night was different. I fell into a gentle sleep at 10.30 and woke from it at 6 am. No drama or interventions , just a perfect night’s sleep.

When I woke I needed the toilet but I’d weaned myself off the bedridden state and I knew I was capable of walking to the toilet. The toilet local to the four man ward was being used so I opted for the one at the bottom of the corridor. I was a little light headed, still on oxygen, but I made it and completed my task assuredly. I then took it steady up the corridor , turned right into the ward and got into bed with a patient. I don’t know who was more startled but I haven’t moved so fast in ages. I’m just hoping the guy thinks it was a nightmare.

It isn’t the first time I’ve got into the wrong bed. I was staying with my wife’s sister and parents and after a night of light revelry I returned from the toilet only to climb into bed with my mother in law. I heard a whoop and then was surrounded by the whole family. Every bit of me visibly shrunk before I skulked away to my own bed. I wasn’t the only offender that night. My poor mother in law wandered downstairs at night only to witness my naked brother in law changing a light bulb.

Routine is important. It gives form and purpose and enables us to navigate and adapt to even the most extreme changes. I don’t mind saying the blog provided a marker for me and was the beginning of my acceptance of my new status. At home the tasks that were formerly mine have been redistributed and a house that operated minimally with two is now a little busier. It’s also a little more cluttered, which my wife hates. Compensation of having her children around her, however, far outweighs any irritant.

It’s nearly dusk now and I’m hoping for another good night. I am tempted now at around tennish to pop my head around the corner of the next ward up and whisper in low Jimmy Saville like tones “now then, now then,” and see what happens. Maybe not..