On The Seventh Day, I Rested

I'm back. Sunday was a rest day; it's almost Biblical. On the seventh day, I rested. Frankly, I exhausted myself thoroughly in getting ready for Ricky's visit. Then, while he was here, I stayed up late both nights, perhaps having a few more adult beverages than was wise, at least on Friday night. By Saturday night, when he left for the airport at 10:30 PM, I could barely hold my head up.

I went to bed pretty much as soon as he left. My bedtime routine with going pee, taking pills, slinging into bed, and getting undressed all takes about 20 to 30 minutes. Then I have to wind down, sometimes with chemical help, sometimes without. Last night I was asleep in about 30 minutes; no Zopiclone required. I slept solid until the next morning.

Olga arrived at 10:30 AM. I was awake already, having opened my eyes to the day at about 10:00 AM. Yet I was still tired, still exhausted from the previous few days activities. I asked her to help me get to the toilet, to dress me in part, and then to help me get back into bed. I went back to sleep immediately, not even hearing her close my apartment door as she left. There would be no blog, no breakfast, no chores, no TV, no books, no Internet; nothing but sleep for my day of rest.

I slept, throughout the day, into the night, right up until this morning when Kathy rang to get into the building. I am as rested as I can be, as rested as ALS will let me be. I am still tired, still carrying the costant weight on my eyelids from ALS. My mind, however, is awake, willing to function. I might actually get something done today. Laundry awaits, it's perpetuality persistent. There is fruit in the fridge to cut into a fruit plate. I might even go to Safeway to get some fresh vegetables for my grandchildren, but that might be pushing it a bit. I don't want to be exhausted again so soon.