Night…again

At certain points in life night is an important time. If you have a night job…if you are cramming fir an exam…if you are in labour…if your child is overdue for a curfew…and, if you are recovering from a stroke. Or at least, this is an important time for me, every night. I look forward to night with a mixture of dread and anticipation. Will I sleep? If I sleep, will I dream? How much of the past will be churned up by morning? Will radio help…or hinder? What kind of music will have what effect? Sounds like the plot of a bad movie, doesn’t it?

The night just finished, Friday night, April 12, was “one of those night.” Of course, we did all the wrong things, for starters. Both of us were feeling good, relaxed. It had been a good day for Beatrix, in terms of work. I had done some walking, visited folks at Tim’s without anxiety; we had a nice simple meal together.

For a change, there was a promising movie just opening at our local theatre – “Side Effects” – a thriller involving a depressed patient, and two psychiatrists tangled in a plot (improbable, on reflection) filed with old familiar names: Effexor, Zoloft, Wellbutrin, Paxil. Some come from my workdays in Psychiatry, some I have tried, with mixed results.

A good enough movie to leave you smiling and thinking of the acting of Jude Law and Catherine Zete-Jones. Channing Tatum was the required hunk; his wife, played by Rooney Mara, seemed a bit over her head. Anyway…

Came home quite pumped from this, and then mistakenly watched the last half of a very good episode of The Fifth Estate on CBC, entitled “Rate Your Hospital.” Great program…big mistake to watch it at 10:30, at least for me. I came to bed “pumped.” Which means engaged, excited, thrilled that it had been done…blood pressure up quite a bit, I’ll bet. At bedtime, these days, that means “consequences…” Hooked myself up to music – lie a fool – without my glasses on. I started with some ‘Relaxing music.” The music was lounge music with a soul -sounding (??) singer moaning on about he listened to his woman, they cried, together, they made love, everything was fine. The style was not relaxing, for me; it felt intrusive. Glasses off, I changed to “nighttime music,” which was orchestral, and smoother. I began to quiet down…but not to sleep.

I was clock-aware of 12:30…then 1:40…then 3:45 – must have slept some. Next waking, after 4:00, I was listening to Arthur Rubinstein playing the piano. Nothing wrong with the music, but it was wrong for me at 4:00 AM. Aggressive, strong, Brahms, I think…so I expected soft and smooth.

I finally got up at 5:30, emptied the dishwasher, and made my breakfast. I stumbled back to bed at about 7:00, and here I am writing about 9:00. Purged, (purged?) I hope to return to bed to doze or sleep until noon.

At least there are no dreams…at least none that I remember yet. But it’s morning, and I am tired out. Fortunately my only commitment is coffee with a friend at 3:00 PM. Soon after that…night again. Sigh…