Sam woke me at 1AM (about 3.5 hours hours earlier than normal) with his usual, "I have to pee." Funny how at night, in bed, his speech is so clear (relatively speaking), and easily audible. Then he was up again at 2:50. I said, "Really?" No, I did because less than 2 hours after peeing one shouldn't have to pee again. But you know I don't want a wet boy and a wet bed, that's not fair to any of us, so pee we went. And back to bed.
3:15: "I have to pee." No you don't. There's no way. You just went 25 minutes ago. "Well then, can we get up and start the day?" Baby, it's nighttime. It's dark outside. We need to rest. Something else is going on. "Why can't I sleep?" He said it just like that. Clear, succinct, audible. I'm telling you, at night, in bed, I don't have to ask him to say something 3 or 4 times. I don't have to guess. His speech is there.
So we went through the checklist-
- You just peed. You need to go again?
- Too warm? Too cold?
- PJs uncomfortable?
- Pain anywhere (waiting with bated breath)?
- No.
- No.
- No.
- No (sigh of relief).
There's nothing I can fix to make it right. There's nothing I can fix to make it right.
Finally, it dawns on me-Benedryl. If it's the steroids keeping him up or the tumor, Benedryl might be the answer. So I gave him Benedryl. Still he tossed and turned. He stretched out diagonally across the full-sized bed we share.
And then I passed out.
He awoke me at 6:45. "Can we get up now?" Did you sleep baby? "No." I sure hope he's wrong, and he slept. There's no way to know, but he sure was tired today, more-so than usual.
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| Sam sleeping in Inverness. June 2012. |
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| Sam sleeping in Grover Beach. August 2013. |
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