Night Time

Saturday, June 2, 2012 

Nights are difficult. I woke up from a dream at 3:58.

In the dream, we were driving through a small town of just a few streets. John started fixing something. There were two wires hanging out of the car. He was driving at walking pace and I was outside the car.

A police on motorcycle drove by. I asked John to stop but he didn't. I tried to remove the wires but couldn't. The police was trapped by the wires. He got angry. He asked John for his name. I said, "He's John Wileman." The police ordered me to stay back. He turned back to John and said, "I'm looking for a missing young girl. You go find her and I'll let you go". John walked away.

The police started punishing an old man for reasons unannounced. He held up a big spray can and sprayed at the old man's groin area. Old man bent down in pain. Thick fog from the spray spread everywhere. The police and the crowd didn't seem to be bothered by that or the old man's pain at all.

I turned away and walked down the street looking for John. Fog from the spray was in the air. Nobody was in sight except a man standing at the open door of an empty warehouse. He stood there motionlessly, staring blankly into the space behind me. I became fearful and worried. I called out, "John! John Wileman!"

I walked up and down the streets, calling: "JOHN WILEMAN! JOHN WILEMAN!"

I went back to where our car was. The car and the crowd were gone, just my small bag left on the street covered with dirt. I picked it up and kept walking and calling again, "JOHN WILEMAN!"

I woke up, frightened.

• • • • •
Nights are difficult. For a few years now I often woke up at night. I considered it a good night if I could go back to sleep in an hour or so. Sometimes I stayed awake for 2, 3 hours. At least I was comfortably resting.

In the last two weeks I stayed awake quite a lot. Frightened, fearful, anxious. There is a rock sitting in my stomach.

• • • • •
Sunday, June 3, 2012  
By comparison, afternoons and evenings are nice. John is in the delicate balance of having enough pain medicine to curb the pain, and not so dopey as wanting to keep staying in bed. We'd usually (meaning in the last few days since our whole world changed) have a bite to eat for lunch and go out for a walk or vise versa.

We usually go to the mall and walk the two floors. Today we decided to go to Azalea Park by Lake Maitland. We had gone there a few times in the past and loved it. So we walked and sat at our bench, watching the lake, boats, water skiers. Two people sitting on those boards and not doing much besides enjoying the beautiful weather and the lake, and (obviously) each other. Usually people stand on those boards and paddle. I never knew how they could keep their balance.

White herons in the trees kept making disgusting and repetitive loud noises. Not the mating call, I hoped. Who would want to answer to that. We walked carefully when passing under the trees where they occupied. One could see the white marks of bird droppings in the grass.

We went to All Saints Church for the Sunday evening service. It was so beautiful. It was particularly meaningful and comforting for me tonight.

We came home, had a drink and made dinner: reheated meatloaf (John prepared it for me last week before he went to the hospital for the big surgery that eventually did not happen), mashed potato and gravy, and spinach. I helped in the kitchen, feeling somewhat confident doing my choirs.

Earlier in the afternoon after leaving Azalea Park we went to Publix in Winter Park Village to pick up a few grocery items. John felt sick as we walked in. He sat in the chair by the pharmacy for a few minutes. His face was so pale. He kept his hand on his heart. Then he got up and we did our shopping. He rested every few minutes. I drove us home.

I thought we might lose him in the supermarket. He was so weak. After coming home I made him a protein shake and he rested for about an hour and a half, and decided he could go to the church. And so we did. On the way home he asked me to drive, and we talked about funeral home choices and whether to have a memorial service. We made dinner and watched MacLaughlin Group and Pierce Morgan on DVR. He took a pain pill at 8. He's taking them every 4 hours now as it is instructed on the bottle. He used to stretch it to six hours and only taking half a pill. It doesn't look like good behavior (that is, taking less drug) will save him. A good night's sleep might help.