I’ve gone through periods of being a truly epic sleeper, but lately I’ve been having trouble getting a good night’s sleep.  Insomnia is a funny thing.  I have trouble getting myself to want to go to bed in the first place.  Then I wake every few hours once I do go to sleep.  All in all I’m only getting four to five hours a night most nights.  It’s gotten to be rather frustrating not to mention exhausting.  And it’s not good for my various chronic illnesses to get so little sleep.

Part of it is stress, my OCD and anxiety, fear of nightmares, and  some of my medications which are know to cause insomnia as a side effect (I’m looking at you Prednisone).  But part of it is also that I think I’m afraid of missing out on stuff I could or feel I should be doing.  As a result I have a hard time even wanting to try to initiate sleep.  I don’t know what to do about it.  None of the usual insomnia tricks work when you are avoiding sleep in the first place.

I’m frustrated with myself I guess.  I know I’m only sabotaging myself, but I can’t figure out how to stop.  Sigh.

Thinking of all this reminds me of a poem I once wrote one night several years ago when I just couldn’t sleep.  I’ll leave you with it and try to get some shut eye myself.

Night Game
By Lauren Soffer

When my thoughts go onto paper
And they can finally leave my head
With my worries just a vapor
I can finally go to bed

Tucked snugly amongst the covers
My eyes welcome in the dark
Yet consciousness still hovers
And Sleep canʼt make her mark

So Sleep and Thought begin
As the night slips into day
A game that Sleep will win
For she must have her way

With a loverʼs sweet caresses
Sleep slowly works her charm
Untying all Thoughtʼs messes
So he can do himself no harm

With Sleep holding on so tightly
To Thought closely at her side
The peace that I crave nightly
Is finally serving as my guide

Single Awareness Day (also known as Valentine’s Day) is upon us!  Relationships (or the lack there of) are on the mind.  Relationships are hard.  Romantic relationships are harder.  Even for healthy people.  Having a chronic illness makes it that much more complicated.  It’s hard not to feel undesirable… broken.  I know the “right guy” will love me anyway.  I know the “right guy” won’t care that I’m 150 pounds overweight from being on Prednisone.  I know the “right guy” won’t mind carting my wheelchair or walker around on dates.  I know the “right guy” will love me for the walking pharmacy, allergy ridden, health disaster that I am.  And I have faith that the “right guy” is out there somewhere.  But until then I’ve written this song in honor of today…

Other Girls
by Lauren Soffer

Maybe now I’m just jaded
Maybe my hope has just faded
So I just swallow my pride
Always a bridesmaid never a bride
Never get roses never get pearls
Love songs are for other girls

No one to hold my hand
No matching footprints in the sand
No dinners in candlelight
No little love notes to write
Never get roses never get pearls
Love songs are for other girls

No chocolate candy hearts
No Romeo to play the part
No one to give me a good night kiss
No one to love and cherish hold and miss
Never get roses never get pearls
Love songs are for other girls

But don’t you get me wrong
Trade anything to sing a different song

Maybe now I’m just jaded
Maybe my hope has just faded
So I just swallow my pride
Always a bridesmaid never a bride
Never get roses never get pearls
Love songs are for other girls

Never get roses never get pearls
Love songs are for other girls

There are many things that define me a Novel Patient, mainly my collection of unusual illnesses, symptoms and side effects.  But one of them has nothing to do with being sick.  If you recall last November, I started writing a novel.  It’s working title is The Alone Elevator.  It’s a coming of age story set in a dystopian future about the pains and trials of going up and the importance of the freedom to think for yourself.  Here’s a brief summary:

Chosen to attend the prestigious Riddlebane Academy, Kylie Lockmore soon learns secrets that turn her world upside-down.  From the drug her grandmother invented to control the populace to the missing sister she never knew she had, Kylie is forced to question the truth and decide where she stands.

As I’ve been writing this novel I’ve been thinking lately about how I define myself.  So much of my life revolves around and is affected by my illness that it can sometimes feel that that is all I am.  But that is not how I want to be defined.  I am more than a sum of doctors appointments and hospital stays, symptoms and side effects, walkers and wheelchairs.  There are so many other things that define me.  And it occurs to me how important it is that I remember that.  I am a creative thinking feeling being.  I am a graphic and web designer, a scrapbooker, a novelist.  I am a daughter, a sister, a friend, a child of God.  I am so much more than just a “Novel Patient”.

But how do others see me?  Do they see just a “sick girl” with a walker?  Or do they see the real me?  I think that the more I define myself as I want to be defined the more people will see the me I want them to see.  If I focus on being a patient that is what will define me.  But if I focus on being a Novel PERSON…  well that is what I will be and radiate to the world.

Here is an excerpt from the first draft of my novel:

The Alone Elevator Chapter 1 Excerpt

It’s a terrible thing to live in fear.  I make a point of not letting my fear overcome me.

When I was a very young girl a fear of guns ruled my life.  I was afraid of being shot wherever I went.  I never wanted to leave the house for fear of being gunned down.  I was especially afraid of going to McDonald’s because I had overheard on the news that a little girl was shot and killed at one.  But even as a 5 year old, I knew that my fear was irrational, and kept it a secret.  I eventually conquered my fear years later when I was forced to participate in riflery at sleep-away camp.  Afterward, I vowed I’d never let a fear rule my life again.

But fear still creeps up now and again.  And it has certainly crept up today.

Today my doctor told me that he is concerned that if we don’t stop and reverse whatever is wrong with my liver, I will end up in liver failure.  My declining liver function may be a result of either Autoimmune Pancreatitis or Autoimmune Hepatitis or both or something else entirely.

I am, frankly, terrified.  But I refuse to let my fear rule me.  As a child I was so embarrassed of my fear that I suffered in secret silence.  But today I reached out and told all my friends the news and let them be there for me.  They more than rose to the occasion, and I am so grateful for them.  And now I am blogging it out.  Sometimes it makes it feel so much better to get it all written down.

I may still be afraid, but it doesn’t control me.  I can use coping mechanisms like these to control it instead.

Image by Jody Art via Flickr

Though I am a Novel Patient, patience isn’t my strong suit.  But patience is what is required of me right now.

My kidney infection has triggered a flare of my Autoimmune Pancreatitis.  I’ve completely lost my appetite and am having severe upper abdominal pain that bores through to my back.  Luckily I am at the hospital with all my specialists including my Pancreatic specialist.  In terms of treatment, my doctors are really afraid to give me more Prednisone (a steroid) while I am still fighting this infection.  Plus they don’t want to undo my progress in tapering the Prednisone.  So the treatment is to keep me completely off anything by mouth – no food or even water – for several days until this hopefully calms itself down again.

So they are keeping me here through the weekend, and I get to practice being patient.

I am plain tired of it all though.  I am tired of being in the hospital so often that it becomes so commonplace to my family that they hardly bat an eye.  I am tired of having IVs and PICC lines hanging out of my arm and being covered with bruises from botched attempts at them.  I am tired of being woken up in the middle of the night to get my vitals checked.  I’m tired of all the medications and the side effects.  (A new fun one from the IV antibiotic is blurred vision.)  I’m tired of being bored and lonely and alone in the hospital.  I am tired of being so tired.

I wrote a poem just now:

In The Hospital

In the hospital
Knowing only pain
And loneliness
Poked and prodded
Woken in the night
Woken in to a nightmare
But this is no nightmare
This is my life
So I search
For a beacon of hope
For a way to get through
And make this trial a tool
To grow and evolve
Past the loneliness
And past the pain
Poking and prodding
My soul into change
Though I dream
And I hope
For health
I cannot wait
So one day at a time
In the hospital

On the upside, I get to take a shower tomorrow.  A REAL shower!!!  I can’t explain how much I’m looking forward to that!

Also my church has been amazing!  They’ve been calling and texting and most importantly visiting me.  It’s been awesome to have such a source of support for the first time in my life!  Their visits have broken up the monotony and made it so much easier to be patient.

And patient I must be – a novelly patient patient.