Friday, December 17, 2004
I went to bed around 0030 this morning...
...and reawoke a bit before 0300 to the hall light blazing. Mom had awakened and was in the living room, sitting in her chair with her TV table in front of her, doing crosswords, a cup of water beside her magazines and pens. She had plugged the Christmas tree in, turned on the kitchen lights and the living room lamp by her chair. She seemed perfectly happy; surprised, too, that I awoke.
"I got up to go to the bathroom and couldn't get back to sleep."
I stayed up for a bit, questioned her gently to make sure nothing was wrong, briefly disturbed her reverie for an underwear change, reminded her to "turn off lights, put on oxygen" when she finally retired, made sure the concentrator was on and went back to bed around 0330.
I have no idea when she went to bed but I noticed this morning that her nail grooming stuff was on her TV table so I imagine she was up for awhile. When I looked in on her she was sleeping 'the sleep of the dead' (cannula securely in place) versus a light sleep that tells me it's safe to awaken her. I let her sleep.
In 'the old days' a couple of years ago this was one of her typical patterns. She used to enjoy the peace of awakening in the deep of the night and spending a few hours alone with her busywork and her thoughts. My feeling of contentment continues, especially in the wake of the revival of one of her former habits. Seeing her sitting as if from a tableau of her history last night took me back to the days of childhood when I'd awaken in the middle of the night and she'd be sitting alone in the kitchen with a bowl of ice cream or a small glass of gin grading papers; a very secure feeling.
I'm heading in to see if she's any closer to consciousness. Somehow, even though I expect a slow day, I also expect a good day.
Later.
"I got up to go to the bathroom and couldn't get back to sleep."
I stayed up for a bit, questioned her gently to make sure nothing was wrong, briefly disturbed her reverie for an underwear change, reminded her to "turn off lights, put on oxygen" when she finally retired, made sure the concentrator was on and went back to bed around 0330.
I have no idea when she went to bed but I noticed this morning that her nail grooming stuff was on her TV table so I imagine she was up for awhile. When I looked in on her she was sleeping 'the sleep of the dead' (cannula securely in place) versus a light sleep that tells me it's safe to awaken her. I let her sleep.
In 'the old days' a couple of years ago this was one of her typical patterns. She used to enjoy the peace of awakening in the deep of the night and spending a few hours alone with her busywork and her thoughts. My feeling of contentment continues, especially in the wake of the revival of one of her former habits. Seeing her sitting as if from a tableau of her history last night took me back to the days of childhood when I'd awaken in the middle of the night and she'd be sitting alone in the kitchen with a bowl of ice cream or a small glass of gin grading papers; a very secure feeling.
I'm heading in to see if she's any closer to consciousness. Somehow, even though I expect a slow day, I also expect a good day.
Later.
