Am I too tired or too depressed? I've been sleeping so much in the past two when I'm not doing anything...
I still get up and go see mum at the hospital, but as soon as I return, I sleep. Sleep and don't feel like doing anything else but close my eyes and sleep... I am very tired, perhaps from the accumulated bad sleep whenever I had to sleep at the hospital throughout the past month. But I guess deep down I'm also very down, very, very down and often feel I want to "escape" somehow from all of this...
I hope this is all just a phase, and soon I'll be able to find strength and will again to do things.
Showing posts with label sleep. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sleep. Show all posts
16 April 2012
02 April 2012
Three hours countdown
I suddenly heard mum groan. It was just after four in the morning. She twisted and turned in bed, and was unresponsive to my questions to her. "What's wrong? Mum, tell me what's wrong...?"
"I can't say..." Something was bothering her, but she couldn't (or didn't want to) say what it was. Was it a nightmare? Was it her sore arms or legs that are keeping her from sleeping? Was it "something else" bothering her (yes, I mean the supernatural...)? She just lay there, writhed her body in apparent discomfort. Her legs were so thin and twisted in a mangle like the plastic tubes coming put of the artery in her neck.
I did what I could think of to calm my down... I massaged her arms, her legs, her feet, her hands... With each rub, each stroke, each pull and push motion, I silently wished my touch would take away whatever was bothering mum. I massaged her with love, with the love of a child, with the devotion and dedication of a child who wishes nothing more than to calm his mother's mind and spirit a few hours before a major operation-- an operation which could very well determine mum's fate and course of life...
I can only imagine, only just imagine and even that is not close enough to what she must be feeling, what she must be thinking of fearing... The heat packs I prepared for her I placed under her shoulder blades. And suddenly, in a rare moment of clarity, mum opened her eyes. "Thank you... Thank you for everything..."
"I can't say..." Something was bothering her, but she couldn't (or didn't want to) say what it was. Was it a nightmare? Was it her sore arms or legs that are keeping her from sleeping? Was it "something else" bothering her (yes, I mean the supernatural...)? She just lay there, writhed her body in apparent discomfort. Her legs were so thin and twisted in a mangle like the plastic tubes coming put of the artery in her neck.
I did what I could think of to calm my down... I massaged her arms, her legs, her feet, her hands... With each rub, each stroke, each pull and push motion, I silently wished my touch would take away whatever was bothering mum. I massaged her with love, with the love of a child, with the devotion and dedication of a child who wishes nothing more than to calm his mother's mind and spirit a few hours before a major operation-- an operation which could very well determine mum's fate and course of life...
I can only imagine, only just imagine and even that is not close enough to what she must be feeling, what she must be thinking of fearing... The heat packs I prepared for her I placed under her shoulder blades. And suddenly, in a rare moment of clarity, mum opened her eyes. "Thank you... Thank you for everything..."
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