So I'm on day 4, or should I say "night 4" of waking up around 2am and...not falling back to sleep. As far as I've been concerned, ms had taken a vacay somewhere around 2 weeks ago. Well, with the exception of the 20 minute bladder schedule. But seriously, if I'm not having electrical shocks in my extremities, or walking around with 400lb legs, or seeing eye flies the size of carpenter bees, I consider it all glory! Then came insomnia.
Insomnia is an old friend of mine. But for years now, I've come to achieve a solid 7-8 hour sleep pattern and it's been great! By the 2nd night of its return, I realized how much I'd missed it. Like a heart attack...
This from a 2am google search: "Many people with multiple sclerosis complain of insomnia or broken sleep patterns, yet sleep problems are not a result of the disease itself. They occur because of secondary factors such as stress, spasticity, inactivity, or depression that people with MS often have."
Here's a time where ms says, "hey, don't blame me! I do enough on my own!" Indeed. So if I'm not overly stressed out, I'm not having spasticity, and I'm still working the 10+ hour days, thereby not "inactive"...that only leaves depression. Great. Can I blame THAT on ms?
I've learned another gem from my search. There are 3 stages of insomnia:
Initial Insomnia: Difficulty falling asleep at night.
Middle Insomnia: Waking up during the night and not being able to fall back asleep quickly.
Terminal Insomnia: Waking up too early.
I fit into the "terminal" category. I may not be the sharpest crayon (pronounced "cran") in the box, but where I come from, "terminal" ain't good.
I really hope it resolves soon, because the deafening sound of my husband eating Frosted Flakes at 4am as I type my blog is driving me to ill thoughts of flinging kitchen utensils at his body. The fallen-and-drain-collected hair he carelessly throws on the ledge of the tub, rather than stretching his arm an additional foot to the trash can? Makes me want to take said collection of hair and stick it to his pillow. And the plentiful laundry baskets of clean clothes that remain on the living room table for days after I've folded them, without him carrying them upstairs for me? Makes me want to remove his pile of clothes, place them in the driveway, and do burn outs on them. My car is all-wheel drive, so it would be difficult to do...but it might be fun trying.
The poor man. He works 7 days a week to provide for our family. He cherishes me with his whole heart. And in return...I fantasize about beaning him with spatulas and ladles, crafting a chia pillow, and tracking his clothes up with tire marks. That's just not right. Come on, Mr. Sandman. Bring me a dream!