OK, not truly 'sleepless' but may as well be.
Another unrestful night.
Yesterday, my little chickadee, my beautiful boy, and Pauple came over for the afternoon and we had a delightful time.
They don't get many opportunities to come out on a weekend because if Pauple isn't working, my beautiful boy has social commitments (birthday partie invites), or John and I aren't home. So when my little chickadee had a Saturday where neither household had anything on their calendars, a visit to Grandma it was!
Pauple loves the environment here and he likes to take my beautiful boy for walks in the woods; obviously, he couldn't do that this visit because the woods are full of snow.
But, after discussing the matter with his parents, John took my beautiful boy outside (Pauple went too) to give him his first lesson in safe handling of firearms, and gave him his inaugural shooting lesson.
He loved it!
My little chickadee has never been too keen on the idea that my beautiful boy might develop an interest in guns and shooting, given his Grandpa John's keen involvement with the discipline.
But, just as I have come to learn over the years, my little chickadee realizes that the gun community has a tremendous respect for safety. She of course also trusts John to impart the correct message to her precious offspring. And if her son is going to be interested, he may as well learn from someone she trusts.
As John explained when securing parental permission before giving him the lesson, it is important information for him to have; we can't always know what he might be exposed to as he gets older, and it would be better that he know how to deal with a situation safely.
I hadn't thought of that until John raised it really. And it's true. My beautiful boy is growing up and he will be exposed to all sorts of situations, some of which may not be what we would like. But we can't control what other people do. Better to have the tools to deal with trouble -- much like we learn CPR so that we can save a life ...
Anyway, John and Pauple went outside with my beautiful boy and a gun of some sort (given the above, you'd think I would have learned something about guns after 15 years with John but ... I know they shoot).
John first gave the safety speech and made my beautiful boy repeat the rules of safety and the whys for those rules.
Then he showed him how the gun works and how to treat a gun with respect, safely.
Then he taught him how to shoot the gun.
And the little sucker hit the bull's eye, not once, but twice!
John told him that if he keeps shooting like that, he'd be in the Olympics one day.
To which he said, "But I can't ski."
It took John a bit to figure out what he meant but this kid watches the Olympics so he knows how it works !
Pauple shot a few rounds too and didn't get anywhere near the bulll's eye.
My beautiful boy is taking the paper to school with him to show his friends. And he's been instructed to be sure to also explain the safety rules when he talks about it (we suggested that he write the safety rules on the back of the paper). His mother is prepared for the notes/calls from school ...
Through the exercise, we found out that my beautiful boy is just like his grandmother: right handed, but left eye dominant. It's not exactly uncommon for people to be that way, but until he met me, John did not know anyone else who was, so he thinks it's really weird!
Apparently, my beautiful boy so enjoyed the experience that he didn't want to come back into the house. He wanted to continue 'practising.'
And when it was time to go home, he didn't want to leave. He didn't want to stay overnight (something we tried repeatedly to convince him to do) but he didn't want to leave.
It really makes my heart happy when I hear my beautiful boy saying, "But I don't want to go yet ..." even though I know the true reason for the sentiment.
Anyway, turns out it's a good thing he didn't stay overnight.
Because last night was a worse night for me than most have been of late.
I again took those damned sleeping aid tablets (took four right up front -- why pretend that three work).
Drifted off in no time; so they do put me to sleep.
But two hours later, I was awake; they just don't keep me asleep.
Just woke up and went right back to sleep.
I think I might be waking up to change positions. Since I cannot physically turn over in bed without a great deal of muscular assistance, I need to be awake to perform the function.
Two hours after that, awake again; and again, I went right back to sleep (the sleeping pills definitely keep me in a drug-induced sleep state).
But at 4:00am, I woke with a start and knew that I had to get to the bathroom fast; something was really not right.
I got out of bed cautiously (I was still extremely groggy) and slowly made my way to the bathroom. I remember thinking mid-way that I should go back to bed because I really needed to lie down. But I was pretty sure I was going to throw up.
Luckily, I continued to the bathroom and I just made it. I no sooner had my butt in the chair and my head pointed towards the bowl when the eruption started. (Our bathroom is quite large so we keep a chair in there which comes in very handy for just such occasions ...)
I lost what little dinner I had eaten.
After cleaning up, I grabbed a ginger ale and very gingerly made my way back to bed.
I passed out again; for an hour and a half.
Then I went right back to sleep, for another hour.
This time, John was awake too. The first words out of his mouth, every morning, are always, "How are you this morning?"
When I told him about my 4:00am experience, I got the usual lecture for not waking him when these things happen. (On this occastion, I truly would not have been able to wake him until after it was over, and by then I just went back to sleep, so really what would have been the point?)
Then the vomiting started again, and when it finally finished, I went back to sleep.
John said it was like I was in a coma.
When I woke again, it was 7:45am and all was right with the world.
No nausea (although, I hadn't had any nausea even through all the vomiting -- I simply vomited, for some reason); no grogginess; just a normal wake-up state.
But I am really dragging bottom today.
I am acutely aware that my head does not want my body to be in an upright position (once again, I have fashioned myself a work station with my laptop on the reclining chesterfield).
Clearly, I do not like the effects of using sleeping aids on a continuing basis.
It doesn't matter that pain management specialists will tell you that a fibromyalgic person should use sleeping aids every night to enhance their sleep in order to help manage the pain, I simply cannot deal with the cumulative effect of the sleeping aid.
So here we have another complication to my treatment plan.
I don't like going through my days in a drug-induced fog; the fog of fibromyalgia is frustrating enough.
It is for this reason that my doctor keeps hitting such objection from me when he suggests my using sleeping aids all the time and taking opiates for the pain.
I don't like what they do to my cognitive skills.
A mind is a terrible thing to waste, and I don't want to waste mine.
So, I'm spending today being very quiet (thank God for DVRs and lots of canned television) because we have a very important social commitment this evening. We're going into Ottawa for a blended-family birthday dinner for my step-son; tomorrow he will be 50 years old so we have to mark the special milestone with a special celebration.
Imagine, my stepson is celebrating his 50th birthday in the same year I will be marking my 60th!!!!
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