February 2018

 

It’s hard enough keeping most kids on a reasonable sleep schedule. When you throw a series of weekly, sometimes biweekly, outpatient surgeries into the mix, it’s “Houston, we have a problem.” A very big problem.

 

I was finally comfortable in my hospital bed but sleep was not coming. I had my eyes closed trying to sleep through the pain of a scrubbed out hip joint infected by a high contrast injection for an MRI procedure.

As I was about to drift off, it was time for the nurse to check my vitals or give me my medicine. She was a larger woman but she moved very quietly thinking I was asleep. She was at the side of my bed and I was watching her, but she was not aware of my watching.

Sleep became a foreign concept to Dad and me when he began to suffer hypoglycemic attacks. These attacks left him mentally disoriented and physically weak. Without immediate food, they could escalate into a more severe condition, leading to a coma or even death. As a result, I set my alarm to awaken me every ninety minutes throughout the night. I would then prepare a snack for Dad—milk and peanut butter on a cracker, pudding, a glass of orange juice—and wake him up to eat.