A Spec in Time Series

Note: When I wrote this, I was very raw. I was right at the end of a panic attack when my brain was still not functioning. If you have ever had one, you know what I mean. It takes hours to get things ‘right’ again. The temptation to rewrite and clean it up is unbearable, yet I will resist. If you hate grammatical, and spelling errors -warning- read on at your own risk.

Can’t sleep. Been awake since 3am on the dot. Played a game, read the news. Tried to sleep, yet still awake and now I’m hungry. There must be a million reasons that people have restless or sleepless nights. I have spells off and on. I have never let them bother me. This time at least I did not wake myself up screaming just on the verge of the panic attack. I have to admit, I’m not sure which is better.

Ever since the arrival of the puppy I have been staying in bed, in the dark, when this happens. The puppy is now 16 months, it might be time to let him know that mom doesn’t always sleep. It is so quite, that breaking that silence seems wrong. It is sacred. Nature seems at rest, yet it is not. Why must I? I have been a night owl most of my life, however in the last few decades there has been this problem of work.

I use to get up and clean PP (pre puppy). Nothing like blaring tunes and wiping down a shower at 3am. Vacuuming the cobweb you saw yesterday on the ceiling. After all, 415 is the best time to get out the ladder. PP, I never thought twice about it. I feel like I must respect his sleep time like he respects my work time… I should go wake that little bastard with the vacuum right now!

I know what the dream was that got me up. An old but good one, it makes me scream most times. 2 large, simple glass sliding doors. They don’t lead into the grocery store, but than that is its own little hell. No, they are the entrance to any hospital or medical facility.

This is hard to write while shaky and tearful. My momster was quite the issue in my life, one that has led to thousands of hours in therapy. I hope over the years my various shrinks have enjoyed the cars and their kids are well educated. Though that is not the point. Hospitals are not my bag. I have visited people in them 6 times in the last 30+ years. I shift in my car as I drive by one. I have an aversion therapy game I play with myself of sitting in a medical office parking lot to see how long it takes to break into a cold sweat and shakes. About 3 minutes now.

Tonight’s bout of terror is due in part because a very good friend was diagnosed with a very bad cancer. A situation where I will not be able to see her or help her in the hospital or doctor appointments; although I could sit in the parking lot for 3 minutes.

I know I will do what I can far away from the scary place, but somehow, it is not the same. Homes alway need care before their occupants returns to recuperate. Sitting with someone at home is good and needed. It is the behind the scenes work I’m comfortable with. I know it is not the star-studded, “I went to see Jane Doe at the hospital yesterday. Have you seen her?” It is none the less, just as important.

I do have a strange gift of dealing with one part of the medical industry however. I am fine in a hospice setting. I do have to take time away from the staff, but I make it work. I so hope that skill set will not be needed for a long time. When it is for any of my dear ones, I will be there. Like I have done with so many in my past. Friends, partners, grandparents, my dad, and even the momster, I will be in that soft calm place, holding the space that most people can’t. Perhaps I am the angel of death as one lady called me. I was strangely pulled into her room one night as I walked the halls. I stood at the end of her bed looking at her as she asked if I was the angel of death, a soft yes moved past my lips. She moved on.

Mostly what I hope that I give a bad joke, an awful impersonation, or something to make that friend laugh as tea is poured. Stories and conversation to pass some time so that the body and soul can heal. Healing is what people say I do after all. What I really do is give space for the healing to happen within themselves.

I have never written a blog on my phone before. In bed, under the sheets with the lights out. Ot is raw. Originally I was going to wait and rewrite(edit) this post in the morning, but it is.

Maybe I can sleep now before the puppy wakes up.