11:00 AM – I snuggled up comfortably in my cocoon of
blankets, drifting off for the much needed sleep that had eluded me most of the
week. I was warm, safe and quickly fell into slumber.
1:04 AM – I awoke thinking I was too comfortable for my own good.
Oh. I realized why I was so comfortable. I fell asleep without my CPAP. How
nice it was for the two hours I slept without it, but knowing that’s probably
why I woke up, grabbed the mask, begrudgingly placed it on my face and fell
right back to sleep.
3:11 AM – I was awakened by a thunderous crash behind me. My
eyes popped wide open, but the rest of me remained still. There was someone
behind me. As the haze of sleep is lifted and adrenaline kicked in, I scanned
the darkness for shadows moving across the wall. I saw nothing, partly because
I’m blind without my glasses, but mostly because the person behind me was
waiting to strike. So this is it. This is how I’m going to die. I couldn’t even
try to bolt as I was tethered to that God forsaken CPAP. I knew that thing
would be the death of me
.
I wondered who it was. Freddy Kruger? Jason Voorhees?
Michael Myers? Pin Head? Or any number of 70’s and 80’s movie monsters my mind could
conjure. If it was Freddy, then I was still sleeping and would die in my
dreams. Not a bad way to go I suppose. If Michael, I knew there was sibling out
there my parents never told me about holding a grudge for some unexplained
reason. If Jason, I can’t imagine why. I only went to summer camp once. And
Crystal Melton put my luggage on the wrong bus, so honestly, who was really
the wronged party in that situation? And if Pin Head, well I’m not sure what that deal
is. It’s 3:15 in the morning and I don’t even remember that movie plot.
I decided to turn and face my fate. I rolled over and saw …
the cat? Mojo was standing on the nightstand, stalking what could only be
described as some heinous beast. Relieved that I wasn’t being confronted by an
axe murderer, I took the stupid CPAP off and turned on the light to investigate
the situation further. The crash was a metal tissue dispenser that Mojo knocked
off the nightstand. It sat still in front of the nightstand, blocking in the
hideous monster that Mojo had cornered.
Mojo jumped off the nightstand and hunted his prey as all
good kitty hunters should. Whatever it was, it was large and moved fast and was
under the nightstand. I could hear it moving around. A mouse? In the house? Or a snake perhaps,
coiled and ready to strike. Mojo couldn’t get to it. He was licking his chops
ready to bear down on whatever this fiendish creature was. He looked at me only
for a moment to convey his plan. I was to lift up the tissue box and he would
smoke out our foe whereupon, I would strike. He was bestowing a great deal of
responsibility on me. I nodded my consent to his plan, grabbed my weapon of convenience, otherwise
known as my tennis shoe, and lifted the box.
I had the box in one hand, the shoe in the other and I
waited for Mojo to make his move. He swatted under the nightstand and before I
could drop the box the villainous being lunged at me. Dear God, this monster had
wings and flew towards my head! I swung the shoe and connected …
My hand with the cedar chest. I think I broke it. As the
blinding pain ripped through my hand, the what can only be described as a bat,
fluttered off to safety elsewhere in room, mocking me and my pain. And where
pray tell was the cat? Still looking under the nightstand.
3:23 AM – The tears in my eyes were subsiding, but I had a
bigger problem. Having no luck convincing my partner that our enemy was no
longer under the nightstand, I realized I was on my own. I scanned the room
quickly trying to find the night bat. Ah ha! Over by the closet on the floor
was where I found my nemesis. Only, it wasn’t the bat I thought it was. I seems
that my opponent had the ability to transform itself into a … candle moth? A
little candle moth? That’s what started this? I told myself that I was going to
have a serious discussion with Mojo later on about the importance of not waking
me up to attack a partially wounded candle moth. I took pity on the poor thing
as it fluttered around in circles like a drunk squirrel high on a fermented
pumpkin. I took pity on it that is until it attacked me again. This time the
shoe met its intended victim. I tried to convince the cat that the situation was
resolved, but he was still looking under the nightstand. I had to pick him up …
Ouch! Not with the broken hand … and put him down in front of the dead moth to
show him the deed was done. Mojo sniffed the moth and then reached out and
smacked it with his paw. Way to kick a moth when he’s down. So not cool.
I reached for the tissue box that of course was empty. Cursing myself for the
decision to “fill it back up in the morning” and not having the foresight to
predict this nightmare, I went to the bathroom to retrieve a tissue so that the
poor moth could have a proper burial, which did not include that cat scratching
the carpet next to it.
When I reentered the bedroom, king of all he surveyed, Mojo sat triumphantly on the head board of the bed reveling in his perceived victory. As if. I picked
up the moth, respectfully disposed of it and turned out the light.
3:35 AM – I hunkered backed down under my covers, the cat
still sitting overhead, watching for the next moth I suppose, when it hit me.
Migraine. Thinking I could fall asleep before any real pain hit, besides the
pain in hand that is, I laid there for a few moments.
I quickly realized that the migraine was going to win out. I
took the CPAP off, again, and got up to take some migraine medicine. I wandered
into the kitchen to get some water to take the pills with. The migraine
compromised my vision. As I opened the refrigerator to get some water the light
made the pain that much worse and coupled with the lack of vision, I leaned too
far forward and face planted right into fridge.
I was a little more than pissed off, by the time I stood
back up. I grabbed a bottle of water, took the stupid pills and placed the cap back
on top of the bottle which of course I then used as a cold compress for my
face. As I walked back to my room, I didn’t envy the fat lip I was sure to have
come morning … oh wait … it was morning.
4:00 AM to be precise. I entered the bedroom once again. And
where pray tell was the cat? Asleep right smack dab on top of the covers and in
the middle of the bed. I got in and he had the unmitigated gall to raise his
head as if to say, “You woke me up.”
4:01 AM – I put the CPAP mask back on, but I drank water. You do
the math. I took the CPAP mask off, again. I went to the restroom and decided that the
Sandman was not going to visit me this night and once again this week I have
been thwarted by the fates of insomnia.
