Home - Week 6 - A flicker of light

When I was 9 years old our family moved into our first house. The biggest and most novel feature of this new house was a fireplace on the main floor and a slow burning stove in the basement. This was a "country" house and my dad's thinking was that the majority of the heating would be done with the stove.

The novelty of the fireplace and stove remained for quite some time. Who gets tired of making and feeding fires with huge pieces wood? As we got settled into the house we also needed to establish a discipline of feeding the stove so that the house stayed warm throughout the day and night. Whether I was the beneficiary of a traditional sexist father (boys do men things and girls do women things) or ultimately the sucker of a more savvy sibling (my sister); I don't want to speculate, but I became the designate for ensuring that the fire in the wood stove remained active throughout the night.

Although the stove could handle some pretty serious pieces of wood, a maximum load with the minimum efficient air intake would last roughly 6 hours. I was 9 and to bed early so my dad would typically get the stove set before heading for bed. That meant that between 4am and 6am the house was out of heat. It was a struggle for me to get up into the freezing house, make my way downstairs and get things heating again. Over time I would simply sleep downstairs and feed the fire constantly through the night. For the first few hours I would leave the doors open and use just the grill so that I could look at the fire. There was something about the flickering light, the smell and the sound.

I wasn't always the perfect fire keeper, but between ages 9 and 16 I spent many nights falling asleep in front of the fire. It didn't hurt that the couch we moved down to the basement was incredibly comfortable. The purpose of sleeping downstairs was simply to avoid getting up early and/or making several trips downstairs to feed the fire. Yet I think over time the fire became a comforting catalyst to slumber.

This will be my fourth entry in this blog where my sleep patterns are central to the theme (Home - Day 4 - Restless Sleep; Home - Day 6 - The Afternoon Nap; Home - Day 13 - The All Nighter). I'm starting to think the hardest part of my recovery has been dealing with a schizophrenic sleep cycle. For the last 3 weeks I have slept miserably. My spirit, energy and mood are all affected by a broken sleep. I decided to return to my childhood to see if I could conjure up an old friend. I grab a big blanket from the bed and head down to the main floor. I flick the switch for the fireplace (gas) and I hunker down on my couch and watch the flames. No sound and no smell, but still a flicker of light that seems to have a hypnotic affect on me.

I wish I could report that this new tactic triggers an unconscious reaction and immediately sleep overcomes me, but it doesn't. Some nights I think the flickering light of the fire actually does help; other nights I think whatever troubles I'm having are beyond childhood comforts, homestead nostalgia and plain old wishful thinking. The sandman runs from me as if I were the embodiment of a mushroom cloud.

At some point a "normal" sleep pattern should return. I hope I won't need to resort to medication. In the mean time I'm plowing through my reading list (4 books last week) and exploring some new concepts around the midnight snack.

My session at the OHI rehab. clinic was a bit of a bust. I think I probably set my expectations a little too high. The 3 hour session ended up being a series of short meetings with various people to schedule various information sessions and visits. I was hoping to actually ask some questions. Apparently my next appointment in a week will be with a real physiotherapist where we set goals and establish limits for physical activity. For the moment I feel pretty good physically. We've had to cancel some walks because I have been brutally tired from a lack of sleep, but when we do get out and walk I feel pretty good.

1 more week and I get to drive!