In the Deep of the Night Sharing My Jumbled Thoughts: Typed and Dictated

In the Deep of the Night Sharing My Jumbled Thoughts: Typed and Dictated

I woke and rolled sleepily over and punched the button on my talking clock.

“1:22 A.M.” the robot like voice proclaimed.

“Dam!” I observed, “Awake early again.”

Suddenly I had to pee rather badly. It felt as if my bladder would explode.

“Oh! Shit! I don’t think I’m going to make it.” I exclaimed.

Sitting up and putting my feet flat onto the floor, and being careful not to lose my balance, rose quickly from the bed which I’d removed the frame from thus causing it to sit low on the floor.

Once I was sure I had my feet firmly underneath me, I made a mad dash to the bathroom but before I could get there I realized I wouldn’t make it quite there after all.

Once in the bathroom Iafter finishing my necessary, I stripped off my clothes and turning on the shower I stood waiting for the water to get warm and tears began to roll slowly down my face.

“Damn! Getting old sucks.” I observed. “I’ll never get back to sleep after a shower.” I lamented.

Stepping into the tub I allowed the warm water to rush over me and as I continued to cry I thought, “I’ll never get back to sleep after a shower.”

I took the washcloth off the shower curtain rod and squirting some shower jell onto it began to lather my body. As the soft clean scent began to waft into the air, mixing with the steam I took a deep breath to calm myself and somehow even though I felt doped from the meds I’d not slept off yet, the combination of the wonderful smelling shower jell and steam comforted me.

Once I was thoroughly clean, I rinsed, and turning off the water, I stepped out onto the towel covered mat and reaching for the towel I sighed.

“Well, at least I don’t smell like piss.” I decided, “Just because I’m getting old and my body doesn’t work right anymore doesn’t mean I have to smell like some of those old women on the bus who seem to have never heard of soap and water.”

Wrapping the towel around myself, I made my way into the living room, and settling into my recliner letting the cool air from the ceiling fan pour over me I began to relax further.

There was something soothing about coming from a hot steamy room into cool air, and as I began to get myself completely under control again even though I figured I wouldn’t go back to sleep I realized, I did feel some better.

Leaning the chair all the way back I let the towel fall open and allowed my body to air dry. Somehow, this to me was one of the best parts of the after shower experience. I for whatever reason never truly feel clean when I’ve only time to towel dry and Jump into my clothes, so I simply lie there relaxing as the wonderful feeling spread all over me.

Beginning to meditate I thought, “Maybe I can go back to sleep after all.”

For a while I just turned my mind loose, and let my thoughts run of their own accord.

I began to think about the current manuscript I was writing, and as my mind began to seriously go free, little snatches of things I wanted to write about started popping up. Phrases like…

‘I lie there in the bed listening to the motor of the pump on the blood pressure cuff so it could take a reading yet again. How on earth had I gotten to this point in my life? I wondered. How was it that I was here in this hospital at 2 in the morning alone. What had the doctor thought when I’d answered with a definite no when he’d asked me if there were any family members he could call for me.

He’d stood there quietly for a moment and then stated firmly, “Ms. Fletcher, do you understand what I’m telling you? The next 48 hours are rather critical for you.”

I’d assured him that I did indeed understand him but that my family hadn’t bothered to come to see me at all. I’d heard the sigh he’d allowed to escape when I’d said, “They’ve not even bothered to call.”

As I continued to enjoy the cool air and soft hum of the ceiling fan I wondered what people would think of the things I had to say concerning the not so wonderful parts of my life.

I’d made the decision to write this book as openly and honestly as I could. Yes, I’d be somewhat sensitive to other’s feelings and to their privacy, and I certainly wasn’t out to ruin anyone’s character, but the affirmation I’d adopted as my own years ago of, “If you don’t want people to know how you are, don’t be that way” still rang true, and I knew this would not only go for myself but others as well.

My mind was totally unleashed now, and I continued flipping through the pages of my life, and began to piece them into words, phrases, and paragraphs and inserting them into their proper places within the manuscript I’d opened in my head.

“Hell.” I observed, “My family already dislikes me. They already appear to have written me off, so what the hell do I care what they think?” I wondered as a bird somewhere outside, gave one lone call and then fell still again.

Finally I was dry, and starting to get cold, so I threw off the towel, and padded back into the bathroom to put on deodorant and clean up my mess.

When I was through and had gotten dressed in a pair of lounging pants, my friend Dave had gotten me while I was in the hospital I wondered out loud to the air, “What the hell would I do without Dave and his wife?”

Tossing my dirty things into the washer I worried, “What will I do when they’re gone? I mean they’re healthy and all but they’re not young pups either.”

It bothered me that the only physical support system I seemed to have came from people like Dave and his wife, who were into their 70’s and others like one of the receptionists at Campbell’s vet, who did things way out of her job description for me, like taking down my info so she could use the automated system at the water company to pay my bill because I couldn’t enter the information fast enough on the phone to satisfy the system, and Campbell’s groomer who never seemed to mind stopping off somewhere to pick something up for me on her way home from work, and who would if asked, pick Campbell up and take him in with her for a bath and deliver him back home in the evenings.

There was also the wonderful folks at KATS (Kingsport Area Transit) They never failed to make the schedule work for me if I had an urgent request to go somewhere on the door to door, and if I were riding the mass transit there were those drivers who would pull right up to the walk leading into Food City, now that I was traveling without Campbell.

We’re all these people really my friends? Or, were they just wonderfully nice people who didn’t mind going that extra mile to help someone out?

Oh, I was certain Dave and his wife were my friends. I talked with and saw them whether I had any need or not, but the others?

Making my way back into the bed room and sliding in beside Campbell who had turned onto his back and was showing the fan sitting on the bookcase his belly I shoved all that out of my head. If I were to have any chance of going back to sleep I had to keep my mind relaxed.

Snuggling underneath the covers I was immediately comforted by the feel of Campbell lying there beside me with his soft fur, and his body warm from sleep.

I began to rub his belly and though it seemed to me an impossible thing, he stretched longer than he’d been when I got in beside him.

He threw his front legs out to each side of his head, and draping one leg over mine he sighed with great contentment.

I lie there and once again let my mind go free. I began to think about all the things we’d done together. All the places he’d taken me safely to and from and of all the experiences I’d had as the result of my having him.

“How on earth am I going to properly bond to a new dog and still give Campbell all the individual attention he’s come to love and expect over the years?” I thought inwardly. Now, please, don’t any of you other guide dog handlers get me wrong here. I’m perfectly aware, that all of you are quite bonded with your dogs, but for several years now, Campbell and I have been quite on our own, and other than the people we’ve encountered throughout our ramblings together and the few friends like Dave, and others I’ve mentioned, we’ve no one in our immediate physical living space, and because of this when I’m not working on something I simply cannot stop I literally devote all myself to Campbell. I meant it when I wrote that piece titled, “Campbell My Life.”

Continuing to rub his belly and smiling at how he was enjoying it I took note of how his big self took up the entire side of the bed and wondered where another dog would fit.

“How in hell can I make this work?” I asked myself. “Should I seriously consider putting this on hold? I mean, what if I bring another dog here and it and Campbell simply hate one another? What if Campbell just doesn’t adapt? Or, what if, since me and the new dog will be together for the first two or three weeks of our time together without Campbell present the new dog becomes defensive of me upon our returning home and adding Campbell to the mix?

I didn’t think I was being over dramatic. I felt these were valid worries, and I wondered what a training manager would advise.

“Gonna have to call them girl. You must express these worries, and see what they allow about it all. You know you should do that before you go any further with this application process.”

Making myself more comfortable I decided that I could do nothing about it here in the deep of the night and I began to make a serious effort toward getting back to sleep. Campbell having the same thought, turned onto his side, and giving out a long contented sigh and low moan, began to snore.

“Well, hell.” I observed, “At least one of us is going back to sleep.”

After trying for another few minutes to get back to sleep and not having any success, I threw off the covers, gave Campbell one more loving pat, and got up.

Though my meds were still giving me that uncomfortable dopy feeling I got when waking before I’d slept them off, I knew without a doubt there would be no more sleep for me that night.

“Shame too.” I thought as I made my way to the coffee pot. “For a while I was sleeping pretty good.”

Now, as I sit here in the quiet deep of the night, I feel very much alone with my thoughts. While I enjoy the ability my solitary life gives me to do the work of writing and promoting I love, and to read as many books a week as I wish, there are times like these when tornados of jumbled thoughts fly through my mind that I’d love someone to shake awake and say, “Honey, can we talk?”

Ah, well, I’ve all you faithful followers and how truly grateful I am to you all. You read my words, and travel along this journey of life with me. Sometimes you comment with your pleasure of a post. Sometimes with queries, and sometimes with your own thoughts and opinion on things.

You are yet another wonderful support system I’ve in place, and as I end, I realize that I’m not so alone. After all, am I not talking about my troubles?

And.

Are you not listening?

Thank you dear friends. Thank you and thank you again.

May you truly be blessed for walking alongside me. I hope you remain here for quite some time to come.

For now, I leave you to your own lives. My coffee cup is empty, and thankfully my mind is now clear. Honestly I feel much better than when I began my tale.

Some have asked, “Why do you write out all you do for the world to see?” They suggest, “Just write in a journal.”

Well, I’ve thought about that and I’ve come to this conclusion.

We all of us have a desire to share things with others. How many times have you won a contest and run immediately to phone a friend to tell them the great news?

Or.

When you get the news that someone dear to you has passed, do you not find someone with whom you can share your grief?

Things like Social Media and WordPress contain friends. Yes, you’re all over the world, but I’ve grown close to you all.

Each morning when I open my inbox I’m happy to see your posts. I’m joyful to learn of awards you’ve won. I’m happy to listen when you write of bad feelings which have come over you for no reason you can find, and I love reading your fictitious tales.

I go on adventures when you write of your travels, and I learn so much when you share your own experiences of battles you’ve fought with things like weight, technology, and all the other various struggles you face.

People who just use Facebook for things like reading the latest gossip or finding the craziest videos ever made don’t understand how supportive those people with whom I’m friends with there were when I became so seriously ill in 2017.

I received so many wonderful messages of encouragement. Those who understood that sending print get well cards to me wouldn’t be helpful sent beautiful ECards instead, and many went out of their way to make certain they had audio which would let me know what the photos were, and if that wasn’t available they wrote out the descriptions themselves.

Think about it? Those of you who are blind or disabled in some way. How often does your own family recognize your individual need?

Many of these people I’ve never met, yet they knew and understood my need.

Back at Christmas a friend from my high-school days saw my writing of how I wasn’t quite prepared for winter, and took it upon herself to send me a coat, and a couple sets of clothes which would help me make it through the cold months.

She, being blind herself, knew just what to buy. The coat has great zipper pockets on each side, which are deep and will hold many small items. She knew, as a blind guide dog handler, or cane traveler I’d need that, because our hands must be free to navigate round where ever we’re going.

She picked out leggings that were black, so they’d go with any color shirt because she understood I had no one to help me match them.

My family doesn’t think like that. They buy me matched sets of clothing that all feel the same, with no way to tell what goes with what. They buy me colored socks, rather than black or white.Why? Because they don’t know me like these others do.

So, yes, WordPress and Social Media friends are real, and I am so glad I’ve learned to receive the good from such things.

“Muse! Shhhh! It’s time to hush. Time to let these fine folks get back to their lives.”

I leave you now.

Until next time, may harmony find you, and Blessid may you be.

0 Comments

  1. heahtmonster Reply
    April 14, 2019

    Hi:

    Beautifully written.

    Your comments about your distant relationship with your family really struck home. As you know, my situation with my family is, to put in kindly, shaky, and being around younger people in the praise band has educated me to how family ties are easily breakable.

    And for all kinds of reasons which seem so trivial. Moving away from the east coast to marry a Missouri girl. Coming out as gay. Supporting another politician than your parents. Choices that people don’t agree with.

    Incredibly sad, and often for no good reason.

    Best, Peter

    1. Hi Peter. I hope you see this. Thanks for your complement to my writing. I was a bit worried about how it was coming out. Not just about how I was saying what I had to say but due to my use of a bluetooth keyboard, touch typing on the screen of my phone, and dictating. LOL. Talk about multi-task writing. 🙂
      I hope things get easier for you, and I hope you know that just because the two of us don’t always see things the same way that you know I care lots about you.

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