How To Wake Up In The Morning

Several months ago, someone asked me casually, "How do you wake up in the morning?" It's a simple question.

The question within it was, "When your wife is facing a chronic, life-threatening and incurable illness, how do you go on?" And lurking under THAT question, like a long buried mummy slowly coming back to life, is the question, "Why?"

My answer at the time was succinct and profound. "Um. I don't know."

I never have given much thought. Usually there's so much going on - medical crises, housekeeping, work, and everything else in life that occupies us - that I don't have time for self-examination.

This is by no means a complete list, but it's just some of the way I get my day started.

1. I open my eyes. This helps immeasurably. The mornings I failed to open my eyes were ones I thought I was putting on a pair of pants to find out later in the office I was only wearing a dress sock.

2. I move my body. Let's not be drastic. This doesn't necessarily involve leaving the bed or doing downward dogs or push-ups. Instead, I shift my limbs around, slowly and diplomatically. Is my wife still there? Yes, she is. I try not to disturb her. She needs her sleep. Because of the intestinal side fx of her illness - a very short bowel means very frequent trips to the bathroom - her body doesn't absorb all the nutrients that the average body (a "normally-bowelled" body) needs to get through the day. Plus, she is not now nor ever was a morning person. So I let her sleep.

3. The alarm goes off. I jerk my limbs, fumble for the clock, accidently raise the volume of NPR to a low jet roar, and wake up Jean.

4. I make inquiries. After a low grumble from the other side of the bed, I ask the following question.
"How many times?" This refers to bathroom visits.
Her answer is one of the following:
a. Several. (I say I'm sorry.)
b. A couple. (Not bad. In sports terms the equivalent of your ball team making it to the playoffs, but not getting to the finals.)
c. None. (I do a small dance of joy, jerking my limbs, and further waking Jean.)

5. I get up and spring into action. This usually happens during emergencies, hospital stays, complications in the middle of the night. During times like these, I respond like General Ulysses S. Grant, who possessed what's called "four o'clock in the morning courage". The success of my courage always depends on finding my pants. (See #1)

6. I don't get up. I'm awake, but I just don't feel like getting out of bed. Or putting on clothes. Or going to work. Or eating. Or doing anything. Sometimes it's a protest over a late night of work, or not getting any sleep because of medical problems, or because we're in a hospital (a place as conducive to sleep as the Motel 6 next to Route I-95). Sometimes it's a sign of depression: a normal human reaction to extraordinary inhuman and over-whelming circumstances. Thanks to Jean, family, friends, and counselors, these mornings aren't so frequent. But they do happen. It's natural and no shame in it.

7. I go back to sleep. The most natural human reaction, especially on a cold winter morning before the crack of dawn. And I don't have to worry about pants.

Happy New Year Too!

It's been awfully busy from the end of the summer to the end of the year. House. Work. Family. Friends. Doctors. Doctors. And, now and then, Sleep. When you think about it, what were you missing?

So, yes, we're alive. You wouldn't know it from reading the blog. We promise to keep this updated regularly. Perhaps I'll even write some useful information about something. Stay tuned...