YESTERDAY I NEEDED A PLACE TO LAY MY HEAD and could not find one. I’d slept poorly the night before in the hotel and wondered how I would make it through the next day on no sleep. I eventually slept, but it could not have been more than 5 hours.
So yesterday, late morning, my eyelids were heavy. I could barely make out the words I jotted in my notepad. At some point, I stopped writing and sat in a stupor. Then I set the pen down, crossed my arms on the table and put my head down like a school child during rest time, but I couldn’t sustain the position.
I leaned back, slouching enough so my head touched the wall just below the wall hanging. I closed my eyes, but opened them again a few seconds later to see if my legs were blocking the passage to the bathroom. They were. I sat up straight to pull my legs in, then, head hitting the wall hanging, I slouched again. I alternated between straightening up and slouching several times, until at last I stood and looked out the window at the skyline.
The parking garage where the valet had taken our car sits a-block-and-a-half away. I was tempted to go walk every level, find the car, recline the seat and sleep, but I didn’t have the energy. And if I didn’t find the car, I’d have to walk all the way back.
The back of my hand had a black smudge from where I brushed it across my cheek. Mascara. Goodness gracious, I’m so tired, I’m crying. This is overtired.
The Coping with Cancer magazine in the waiting area and the booklet for caregivers in the brochure rack and the extensive list of articles and resources for caregivers on the Medical Center’s website all said the same thing, strongly. Caregivers: If you are tired, rest. Yes. I am loaded down with admonishments.
I don’t need the academic answer to tiredness.
I need the practical answer.
Where can I lay my head?
I have no idea how I drove the 4 hours home. Tim Horton’s coffee and Timbits.