I woke up at 3:50 last night, and reached for my i pod to lull myself back to sleep with a bit of Isabel Dalhousie Book #7, but it just didn’t work. I found my mind wandering to the most distressing thoughts possible. First, I dreaded the death of my dog, Tiger. He has congestive heart failure, and as he snored next to his sister, Molly, in the chair by the bed, I imagined his beleaguered heart desperately trying to push blood through his fuzzy little body. Then, I thought of my parents and Adam’s parents, and how grateful I should be that they’re alive and well, and I berated myself for not appreciating this time of my life more.
“You’ll miss them so much one day,” I told myself.
“I know, I know….shut up and go to sleep!” I answered.
“I don’t think you feel sufficiently chastened,” I replied.
I thought about how grateful I should be for my children’s health, and how I don’t think enough about that, either. I thought about some of my patients whom I love who are really ill, and I imagined what organ I would barter away for them to be healthy. I was iffy on toes for some reason, (yes, yes, I know they’re not organs), but I was willing to give away a kidney if necessary.
“That makes zero sense,” I told myself. “The recovery time would be horrible for removing a kidney. Plus, you get a kidney disease and you’re down one of those babies, and you’re screwed.”
“Yes, but think about your shoes,” I said – always the practical one. “Many wouldn’t fit anymore. You might even have to wear…dare I say…flats!”
I shuddered twice.
My body felt achy. I couldn’t get comfortable in bed. I tried to listen to Isabel’s clever insights into human nature. I felt my hip bones digging into the mattress as I lay on my side. Hey! Wait! If I could feel my bones digging into the mattress, did that mean I was thin? Surely a fat person’s flab would cover their bones. I got up to look at myself in the mirror. Nope. My hip bones were well cushioned. Nary a hip bone in sight.
Adam’s alarm went off at 5:00am. I pretended I was asleep. Then, I really did fall asleep. It was blissful.
“You really need to appreciate a good night’s sleep more,” I told myself as I turned off my alarm at 8:00a.
“Oh, shut up,” I replied.
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Hope you didn’t have to go to work after a night like that! If so, I can only imagine the conversations going on in that wild little head of yours!!
i did, but I was a bit off. No one could tell. Ha!
I find a half of an Advil PM does the trick……does give me weird dreams though!!
I’m going to try that tonight. Advil PM seems to be the sleeping aid of choice. What ever happened to tylenol PM? Is it chopped liver?
this talking to yourself and answering back thing…. how long has that been going on?
Ok. Have a seat NM. It all started in utero…
My inner ear is perpetually suffused with self-talk of one kind or another – I can relate to your stream of consciousness internal dialogue. Hope you get some good solid sleeps in soon.
I love keeping track of internal dialogue. It’s so cool how thoughts work. I’m glad you can relate! My son Kevin is a hoot at this sort of thing. He can track his thoughts or tell about an internal dialogue in a way that has me rolling on the floor. Not sure if it’s with stomach pain or laughter. I suppose it depends on what the internal dialogue is about.
So sorry to hear about your dog. That would make me have a tortuous night sleep as well. Our dog is recovering from pancreatitis. At one point I thought she wasn’t going to make it but happily she seems to be pulling through. These pets become such a part of our families.
Animals really don’t live long enough. 15 years seemed like a long time when they were puppies, but it’s gone by so fast! He’s 10 now.
Awful about the pancreatitis! Poor doggie! I’m glad she’s doing better.
Aw, poor Tiger! Good to hear you could finally sleep though.
I recently zoned out in my Cognitive Psyc class and started talking to myself in my head and my professor asked what was preoccupying my mind… He regretted it, because I proceeded to retrace my mental steps- in detail. Once I finished, he told me I should pay attention or I’ll fail the final. Bragging point- I got a 100% on that exam.
Point of story- Internal dialog= win.
Yay, Julia! Just to warn you – that’s where I went wrong. Learning about Cognitive Psych. Once you start tracing your thoughts, it’s really interesting and hard to stop. Plus, you’re a bit like me, in that you amuse yourself. You’ll be doing this crap for hours soon. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
Tylenol PM is apparently not good for your liver… so technically, you are right. although not “chopped”, it apparently minces it from the inside.
unfortunately, i learned this after i bought a 500 pill bottle of it at the warehouse club. so i still take Tylenol PM because i worry more about money than my liver.
You certainly don’t want to waste those babies. Ugh! *shoots self*
You and yourself are pretty good conversationalists.
We really are. It makes it tough to socialize with anyone else.
I feel bad about your dog. Now I’m going to lie awake thinking I should donate an organ to him. Seriously, I do feel bad that your dog is sick.
Hope tonight’s sleep is better.
You could at least donate a toe…
This happens to me every day! But then I get up at 4AM, so it’s not that big of a deal. Now if it were 2AM, I’d be irritated. Sorry to hear about your doggie. Mine is getting on in years, and I harbor no illusions about the whole “die in your sleep” thing. I’m sure it will end up being the “final trip to the vet” thing. I dread that, and don’t like thinking about it. Even so, my mind takes me there once in a while and I have to force it back to illusions via intensive visualization of well developed fantasies. Nothing of a sexual nature, of course, as those keep me awake. More like illusions of grandeur, things I’d do if I won the lottery, adventures I’d like to have, that sort of thing. Those will put me to sleep eventually, and they make the darkness go away. For you, it might be shoes!
I sometimes imagine I have super powers – I fly and shoot laser beams from my fingertips. How embarrassing.
Dogs don’t live long enough. That’s all there is to it.
Sorry to hear about your dog, Robin.
I agree with you. We should all be really grateful for everything that we do have.
Thanks Tyhitia! It’s really hard to be grateful. I’m way better at bemoaning my fate.
I lie awake and worry about my cats. It keeps me from worrying about my husband and kids — yet one more reason to be grateful for pets. (And for what it’s worth, I talk to myself all the time and KNOW that it is what keeps me sane.)
If I ever need to give my kids a kidney, I’ll pony up. But I’m damned if they can keep borrowing my coats.
I would feel the same way. Kidneys are ok if there’s an emergency but a person should know where their damn coat is.
I visit every day in the hope that you’ve written a new post…… soon maybe?
You’re so sweet, Nursie! I’ll be back, I promise! We’re going to Argentina for a couple of weeks, but after that. I should have Alex guard the blog.
Did I ever tell you about my man eating guard dogs and how the CIA installed a really great alarm system in the house? It’s true. Really, it is.