COUNTING SHEEP

Beautiful sky this evening, outside the Hospice

Sleep - as I've known it - has ceased to exist for me. It defies me, does not cooperate, leaves me bewildered and blinking with tired eyes in the middle of the night. I've always been a sound sleeper, but now not…. not any more.

My insomniac friend Grete had something to say about my new condition: Welcome to our world. This is what we're used to. But you're spoilt with the easiness of sleep, so insomnia deals you a harder blow when it suddenly appears. You fight it, you question it, you're simply disbelieving.

And she proceeded to give me a lot of good advice - having merited a PhD in insomnia as she said - and I'm trying out this advice. Trying to blank out churning thoughts - which might work to some extent. In short it means not letting your spinning mind take control, but shutting it out. I've tried breathing exercises, I've even counted sheep.

I hate you, insomnia! I hate twisting and turning for two, three, four hours, before I finally fall into an exhausted and fitful drowse at about five in the morning. I know the meaning of "fitful" now, oh yes, I do! A couple of times I've taken an Oxazepam - which I'm not used to at all! - and have woken way into the morning as a total zombie. But the oblivion has been blissful.

Or - the other version - I fall asleep over my my book, subconsciously thankful that sleep is actually happening. Then I wake abruptly, check my phone for the time (not the done thing in insomnia circles) and my heart sinks. One hour's sleep - was that all?

Spring is here, so early this year! Can I begin to believe it? Glorious days! Though never have I had a sadder spring.

Of course I know what threw this old sleepyhead off balance. Every night I listened to my husband's breathing, reaching out to make sure he was there. Shallow rest in case he wanted to get up and be accompanied to the bathroom. But then again it's not all about him. It's about MY worries, my horror of being left alone, my helplessness, my self-pity. I lie awake, almost nurturing my fears. My enormous fears about not being able to cope without my rock by my side. The nightmare of not seeing his face and his body and his whole being next to me when I wake up. All of a sudden on my own, basically.

I am now getting used to living like this. On Tuesday March 17 my husband will have been away from home for six weeks. Have my nocturnal worries subsided? No. But my worries of not taking care of him properly are gone now - fortunately.

The Hospice is of course the most incredible place to be when you finally realise that palliative care is inevitable. Again I want to shout out loud and clear that the people who work there are ANGELS. They are in possession of a special care-gene that we should all learn from.

My conversations with the nurses soothe me now. Twice last week I arrived at the Hospice and the flag was on half-mast, and once the hearse was waiting outside with its hatch open. What can I say? The reality of our situation is driven home so mercilessly. It took me a couple of days to process this. I came to the conclusion that in a way it's okay too. It gives me an eye-opener, an awakening. This is what awaits us soon. This is why my husband is in a Hospice. It's final. Death is just around the corner now.

This is what the nurses tell me when I ask them how on earth they cope with their patients dying and not least KNOWING that they'll soon die: "We are used to it. This is our job. But we cry too. We are moved every day. But we see that death is not always the worst outcome after a long and exhausting illness."

Oh yes - they soothe me.

I've spent the night in my husband's room a couple of times. There's a spare room, there's a sitting area, TV, stereo, fridge - and a kitchen down the corridor where I can make him his favourite cocktail Caipirinha. And cut fresh vegetables for him to dip in spicy sour cream. 

The strangest thing happened the night between Friday and Saturday in that spare room at the Hospice. I fell asleep quickly and I slept well. 

Out with the boys - 2010. "I've got the tab."

Always in love with that closeness to the sea here in Oslo. Lunch with sister-in-law Tone at Strand Restaurant earlier this week.