Starting with my visit to the emergency room back before Memorial Day Weekend, I've been on steroids and anti-seizure medications morning and evening. I believe it's the steroids, dexamethazone, and not the anti-seizure meds, Keppra, that are keeping me boosted when I'm trying to sleep. I was offered Ativan, to level things out a bit so that I could sleep more easily, but I took Ativan a couple times last year when I was having the panic attacks and I'm really just in the mode of absolutely no more than is completely necessary, so no Ativan. I did buy some Tylenol PM, over the counter of course, but I have, heretofore, chosen not to partake.
A typical night for me has been to hit bed (slightly jittery) around 1am or 2am, read until I can't keep my eyes open (The Yiddish Policeman's Union: A Novel right now, which isn't totally gripping me yet . . .), sleep until about 3:30am, use the bathroom, drink a ½ liter of water or more, sleep until 5am, drink another ½ or more liters of water, up at 6:30am with a bunch more water and then breakfast. Not, after all is said and done, that much rest. The other night, after infusion 3, I actually finished two liters of water in about 5 hours. When I wake up in the night, no matter how short a time I've been sleeping, my throat is typically dry and sore, my nose aches from the thinning of the membranes and the dryness of breathing, and I am desperately thirsty. And I have to pee. In all, not a good bed partner, so Ian and the dogs have been sleeping in the guest room.
Fortunately, we bought two excellent organic latex mattresses when we moved back into our house in December, so he's almost as comfortable as me. Of course, so that Spackle feels like top dog, we've been allowing him to sleep with us (individually) on the guest bed—me when I occasionally take naps there, Ian now that he's been sleeping there every night—while Hoover continues to spend the nights in his crate. This is all very sweet and congenial, except that Spackle is much more of a mover than I am overnight, and Ian has several times found himself on the very edge of the double bed with four dog feet pushing into his side. One morning, Spackle decided that 7am was time for breakfast, so he squirmed his way up to the top of the bed and snuffled in Ian's ear, then laid his head on Ian's chest, where he proceeded to breathe hard, and in a very awake manner, until Ian got up and gave him breakfast. So actually, Ian probably isn't getting much more sleep than he'd be getting sharing with me. But I haven't been worrying about him at all, which is a huge benefit for me when I'm gulping down water or staggering, bloated, to the bathroom in the wee sma's.
Last night was actually a stellar night in some ways—we were in our respective beds at around 11:30pm, and with only three trips to the bathroom and restocking on water, I managed to not wake up for good until 8:30am. I almost didn't know what to do with myself so late in the day. I was particularly hungry at 5am so I may add some graham crackers to the pile of supplies on my bedside table, but I was evidently tired enough to get through it and go back to sleep.
Sleep is good, you know.