Posts Tagged ‘interrupted sleep’
Not Solved
It was probably wishful thinking on my part to believe the barking dog issue was permanently solved.
3 a.m.
4 a.m.
5 a.m.
Then it stopped. In my semi-conscious wish to be still asleep, I imagined maybe the closer neighbor had reached their limit and called for official intervention in the predawn darkness when spiders are manically spinning spectacular orb webs.
At 6:11, it started again. Poor dog. Doesn’t take a breath between yips anymore. Just constantly screams for something.
If the cops got them to bring the dog inside, it only lasted for a short time after they’d left. Of course, this is all my addled, sleep-interrupted mind making up one scenario. It’s equally possible the dog just got tired and shut up for a spell.
Since we live out of sight from the source of this angst, I don’t have a vision of where this dog is located while endlessly yapping for attention.
In supreme contrast, I walked pleasantly with Asher through our woods and on to the barn, where the horses were serene as could be. They appear to find the new senior feed much to their liking compared to the corn and oats that were being served prior. We have completed the transition, and they get 100% processed pellets.
They gobble it up much more quickly, licking the buckets clean and spilling much less on their placemats.
We are looking forward to having less “food” lying all around for the critter pests that consider the area around the overhang to be their free buffet.
The senior feed looks to be a change that does solve at least a couple of issues for us. The distant neighbor’s barking dog problem remains a work in progress.
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Summer Reality
Even though the lake home is a luxurious 12-inch cedar log structure with spacious rooms, large sleeping capacity, and more bathrooms than I care to admit, it is not immune to the problems that have plagued most anyone who has spent a lot of time up at a cabin.
What story does this photo reveal to you? If you know, you know.
The accessories decorating Cyndie’s and my loft bedroom at the lake place this week reflect the kind of sleep we have been getting the last few nights.
The first time I noticed it, I assumed Cyndie was sleeping through the odd pings, tings, knocked things, and flapping wing sounds I was picking up. I guessed it was a bat, but preferred to prioritize my sleep and let it have its fun. In no time, I was dreaming that I had picked up my cell phone, turned on the light to see a bat wrapped in a curtain that Cyndie handed to me. I proceeded to try “dispatching” the pest, but it merely folded over harmlessly in the dream.
Upon waking in the morning, I figured out I had dreamed the interaction, but Cyndie confirmed she had heard the bat, too, so that part was real.
The next night, I was startled awake from a wonderfully deep sleep by the blast of a very bright light over our bed. Cyndie reported it was the bat again. This time, she couldn’t ignore it because she felt something hit her, which is why she turned on the light. There was a bat turd on the sheets.
When she retold this story to Julian the next morning, he seamlessly responded, “That makes it official: you are batshit crazy.”
Cyndie and I clumsily flailed after the flying mouse until it disappeared into our attached bathroom. I suggested Cyndie close the door, and we both lay back down to sleep. Just then, a screech owl call pierced the quiet and echoed in the trees outside the window.
After assembling the collection of tools that can be seen in the photo above, we both slept soundly through the entire night on Wednesday. It’s difficult to know whether that meant there was no bat in flight or we had gotten used to the flapping enough that it no longer interrupted our slumber.
In reference to a bigger picture, I am feeling more sad about my country than ever before this US Independence Day. Enough said.
Send extra love out into the world, hug those you hold dear, and give someone you don’t know a big smile to brighten their day.
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Sleep Deprivation
All day long the rain came down. Every so often there were rumbles of thunder. Periodically, downpours would roar or big winds blew. If I didn’t speak, those were the predominant sounds beyond the energized reporting of Olympic sports commentators droning from the TV. I’m home alone with the animals for a few days.
If I didn’t have the Olympic broadcasts keeping me company, I’d probably do a lot more talking to myself. Asher isn’t much of a conversationalist.
I’m feeling rather short of words lately. Hanging out with Asher and the horses doesn’t require me to talk much. One might think that would result in more mental resources for writing but I’m not finding that to be the case right now.
It would be nice if that mental blankness would allow me to sleep soundly but Sunday night’s dream saga of me striving to achieve something that continuously eluded success and appeared to consume way more time than was available was unsettling. I would slide toward consciousness from the dream and lament that it felt like I was mentally working so hard, then fall back to sleep and into more of the same type of dream. It became exhausting when I was supposed to be resting.
One thing that the annoying overnight dream-disturbed sleep made easier was falling into naps all day yesterday, even when I didn’t intend to. Since Asher wasn’t feeling at all like napping, his whining was able to disrupt any serious sleep recovery a reasonable nap would have provided. With nothing but falling rain happening outside, it would have been a great day to nap.
Instead, I found myself getting soaked while giving Asher chances to stop whining on walks in the rain.
I sure am glad the horses don’t need me to take them for walks.
Let’s hear it for the rejuvinating benefits of a sound night’s sleep with nothing but sweet dreams throughout.
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Outwaiting Inevitable
And there go the last 14 hours. Gone. It would have been nice to sleep through some of them. Okay, I’m exaggerating. I slept a couple hours at a time, twice. In between, I was standing out in the yard holding Delilah’s leash while she searched for grass long enough to chew and swallow.
The moon looked pretty cool through the clouds at 2 a.m. I didn’t see it at 5 a.m.
I was desperately hoping for vomit, but that never happened. At least, not yet. Hers, not mine.
For whatever reason, her symptoms are hinting that all is not right yet, but not manifesting in any obvious drastic changes. Is her throwing up inevitable? Time will tell.
I continue to keep one eye on her, one eye on Cyndie, and one eye on her mom when she needs help in the kitchen. It’s got me feeling a little crosseyed at times, but I can wait out the chaos with my sights set on the day when Cyndie’s bones have healed enough for supporting weight.
Is it inevitable that they will heal? I sure hope so.
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Sleep Interrupted
I was sleeping so soundly, Cyndie couldn’t rouse me on her first try Sunday night. Her pain and concern were growing as the night went on and she wasn’t getting any rest. She re-read the information sent home after the knee surgery to confirm instructions if she suddenly experienced pain in her chest.
At midnight, she successfully woke me. We would be making a visit to the emergency room to find out if there might be a blood clot that made its way to her lung.
Despite our somewhat rural location, our health services are only 10-minutes from our home. We quickly received a blunt introduction to the strict COVID-19 protocols in place. Segregation, isolation, socially distanced to the extreme. We couldn’t even get in the door until Cyndie located the phone on which she was grilled with a 20-question virus threat interrogation, the result of which turned me around and sent me back to wait in the car.
In the cold.
By myself.
Why is this all about me? Only because testing confirmed there was no blood clot and Cyndie was discharged a couple hours later to wait out the pain at home. Two possible causes were “compressed tissue” from duration of anesthetization slowly uncompressing or muscle pain from distorted sleeping position during her two-days of narcotic couching it.
Let’s get back to my plight. It was the middle of the night before a Monday workday and I was stuck in a cold car in a deserted parking lot. ‘Just sleep while I wait’ was the logical choice. How hard can that be? Don’t allow yourself to start wondering if it actually was a blood clot.
When the voice on the phone finally gave Cyndie permission to enter and the double doors swung open, I stood and watched her limp down the long deserted hallway alone and thought of all the coronavirus patients who take a similar walk alone and never see their family again.
Biding my time alone in my car, I had the opportunity to practice, over and over, returning my mind to the present moment and recognizing I was just fine and Cyndie was in the care of trained professionals.
Thankfully, upon returning home somewhere after 2:00 a.m., I was able to quickly fall asleep in the comfy warmth of our bed and reclaim the wee latter portion of a healthy night’s sleep, aided by the knowledge that Cyndie’s pain wasn’t caused by a blood clot.
By bedtime last night, I’m happy to report, the pain was becoming more tolerable and her spirits were improving accordingly. That afforded us both a much better and well-deserved full night’s sleep.
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Animal Care
Caring for our animals is a lot like caring for children, except they will never grow to become self-sufficient and eventually move out and have a life of their own. Do I sound tired?
You know that part of my life where I go off on bike rides because I find time to embark on such a frivolous pursuit? It happens a lot less often after we decided to have pets that require so much care. Luckily, humans tend to fall in love with animals almost as much as they do with their own children, so it ends up being a labor of love.
Of course, when you love people and pets, it is tough to watch them suffer illness. Even though it took almost three days for her to reveal symptoms, Cyndie thinks that Delilah’s current problems have a high likelihood of being the result of her activity while roaming loose on the neighboring properties last Saturday.
Tuesday afternoon, when I got home from work, Cyndie reported two interesting morsels of news: 1) She found the fully intact and well-preserved remains of the infamous goldfish when cleaning debris from our landscape pond. Surreptitiously deposited back in May of 2016, it was only spotted two times over the course of it’s time here. 2) Delilah was suffering from severe diarrhea.
Seconds after they followed me into the house, Delilah vomited on the old Hays family farm rug in the porch. When Cyndie went down to the barn to tend to the horses, she left Delilah in the house to rest. A few minutes later, Delilah came to the chair I was sitting in and looked at me.
I hustled to get her leash and get out the door. She practically pulled me across the driveway and down the slope into the trees and leaves where she experienced the worst canine diarrhea I had ever witnessed. Our doggie was seriously ill with some gastrointestinal disruption.
Tuesday night was one of constant sleep interruptions, and Cyndie described yesterday as producing gradually reducing symptoms. Delilah ate some rice with chicken broth. I took her for a walk after work and saw what we hope was one of the last gasps of an attempt to release the pressure of mostly virtual diarrhea.
I marveled at Delilah’s ability to proceed with the remainder of the walk in her usual mode of inspired curiosity at the world of scents. It was as if the disaster that I just watched playing out in her digestive system had never occurred.
It made the role of loving witness to her suffering that much easier to bear.
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Precious Sleep
I have been coming up short of sleep lately and I can feel everything suffering as a result. For one, it makes commuting for 2-hours a day a hazard of droopy eyed distracted driving. I’m too exhausted to think clearly, I’m getting grumpy, and my sugar cravings are defeating my best intentions of thwarting them.
It becomes a vicious circle of fatigue breeding fatigue. On Tuesday night I had hoped to get to bed promptly in the evening to allow time for a full 8-hours of slumber. Circumstances foiled that plan and I stayed up about 2-hours later than I planned. In and of itself, that would have been manageable, but then my keen mind and body betrayed me an hour before my alarm would have gone off Wednesday morning, leaving me wide awake, when that was the last thing I could afford to experience.
Precious sleep got lopped off on both ends of the cycle.
It hasn’t helped at all that our internet connection has been totally unstable of late, causing me to languish in the limbo of half-loaded pages and images in my quest to toss up another entry in the daily blog effort.
I have a plan to get back at the dang fickle connection. I’m writing a short post and getting it done fast, so I have more time to sleep. Wish me luck…
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Relative Something 