This is how I go to sleep now, guys.
That’s right, this 29 year old woman needs a night light.
It all started with my open heart surgery last May. Pre-op, I was terrified; in the 4 months prior to surgery I had happened upon another 2 drug allergies (just add 'em to the list), so I was in the frame of mind to be prepared for anything. I made sure my Will was done, that Jake had a diary done for the year ahead with birthdays, appointments, reminders, that the bank accounts were full enough to cover funeral costs and keep my small family afloat until they re-adjusted their living. Obviously, I was under the impression I could very well die. So, the evening prior to and morning of my surgery I had to use every ounce of willpower to stay in that hospital. If you’ve read any of my blogs from back then you’ll know that if Steve the anesthetic guy hadn’t been man-handling whichever limb of mine was closest to him at the time and talking to me constantly, my ass might not have been wheeled into the theater that day. Obviously the last thing I recall is voices fading out and darkness coming in.
I remember waking up in ICU a few times that first night. After gesturing for my breathing tube to be removed, I started having a reaction to the pain relief which involved violently vomiting bile. I couldn’t move much with my freshly cracked chest, so I was forced to ride it out each time by hugging a thick towel, and bring up what I could, where I could. Sometimes I had the presence of mind to buzz a nurse before it started coming up but a few times they didn’t make it to me before the thick hot liver-made goodness landed on my pillow, bed, chin and neck It was a pretty bleak experience. The most memorable thing for me was the fear. In and out of consciousness, not able to sit up on my own or lay on my side, vomiting, sometimes with no assistance... What if I choked? All of this happened in very dim, far-off lighting, so it was all just shapes in shades of black and white. A memory I hated for the longest time.
Finally out of ICU I stayed on the ward for 4 nights. As everyone knows, in hospital there is no such thing as the dark. There is always a light on somewhere. And between being woken up for obs, fellow patients being dicks with their TV’s up loud or simply getting up to the bathroom - there no such thing as silence.
Once home from hospital I was confined to the recliner for sleep. Jake, good human that he is, slept on the couch next to me and every night my anxiety grew, until night 4 at home when I lost my shit entirely. I fell into a pit of deep depression and ended up on the toilet (still having trouble balancing my pain meds vs bowel movements), sobbing my heart out to my best friend, who I’m sure had entirely no idea what the hell to do. Then my Mum came over and basically just held me on the couch until I stopped crying. It was the pits. This whole time the lamp next to me was always on overnight, just in case I needed anything (It was hard for me to reach out & turn it on & off from my chair at this point). But as the next week came and the pain lessened, there were fewer night-time wake ups and no real need for the lamp. So, one night, Jake turned it off. I was instantly overcome with panic and demanded he turn it back on. I didn't really understand why, I thought it was probably just because of the bad mental & emotional days. But as time went on, I realised there was possibly a lot more to it.
My fear of dying and all of the preparations I had made for the possible eventuality had consumed me in the 5 months from diagnosis to my surgery. Now that I had made it to the other side, I think subconsciously I was still in that mind frame. So, I clung to all of the things that felt comfortable and safe and let me know I was still alive - including light. I think the dark reminded me of going under, which I associated with dying and I felt out of control when I was in complete darkness - almost devoured by it. I'm past all of that mind fuckery now but it seems like my body is not - the immediate reactions it has certainly attest to that.
Jake has trouble falling to sleep and staying asleep with the light on... so of course we have tried many times in the 8 months since to overcome this anxiety of mine. We've tried turning the light off after I've fallen asleep but each time I'd wake up soon after, panicking before I was even fully aware of what was going on. We've gone cold turkey - that was fun. For now we've made it outside the bedroom to the hall light - far enough away that Jake's sleep isn't so interrupted but so that I get some sleep myself. The goal at the moment is to find a way to get the light further away bit by bit until my body learns to sleep in the dark again.
But this is more of a shout out to say hey to anyone dealing with weird shit that they probably don't really think to talk about or may be a little embarrassed by. It's cool guys - my 3 and a half year old is cooler than me so, you know. Do what works and love the shit out of yourself and your journey.
