I Was An A@#hole!
- February 07, 2017
- Theresa Bertuzzi
My husband fell out of bed this weekend and I was a total asshole! Oh the guilt. Here is how the conversation went. Massive banging noise wakes me violently out of a deep sleep. I sit bolt upright in bed, eyes huge, thinking “oh my god, is our house being broken into?” I yell “what was that???” Danny responds, from the floor, “I fell out of bed!” I say “Oh”, lie back down quickly and fall directly back to sleep. That’s right; I didn’t ask if he was ok. I didn’t help him back up. I didn’t even laugh and point. Nothing; just fell directly back to sleep before he even lifted himself up off of the floor. Horrible!!! This is the man who has been doing so much to help me for the past few months and I’m too tired to even tease him about falling out of the bed. When I woke up the next morning I felt horrible as I remembered that he fell out of bed and then realized that I had fallen right back to sleep as soon as my fear of a break in was put to rest. I am a horrible person. In my defence, I have been incredibly tired lately. I think it is because I have been doing so much more and because my meds are being tapered down now so they are no longer keeping me awake. I had my IVIG treatments today and I slept through almost the entire day. I always plan on blogging from the hospital but the nurses give me my Benadryl and Tylenol, hook me up to the IV, cover me in a warm blanket and I am out like a baby. Today my sleep was constantly interrupted as I could vaguely hear the really loud lady who sat beside me who talked non-stop about her new puppies. I normally would love to hear about puppies but I was so tired and she went on and on. The weird part was that every time I cracked my eyes open to look and see who she was talking to there was no one there so I just assumed that she was either completely crazy and talking to herself or was talking to me. So every time I worked up the energy to crack my eyes open for a few seconds I would nod my head and mumble “I love puppies.” I figured I had better play along in case she really was crazy and attacked me in my sleep. Plus, who am I to judge crazy when I am pretty certain that I have got a little bit of that myself these days. At one point I could hear her talking about how she can bring the dogs to the hospital with her soon because she has PTSD and registered them as support dogs. She then whispered to me that she did not in fact have PTSD but that the registry for the service dog was on the honor system so she just wrote that down so she could bring her dogs to the hospital with her and into restaurants. This sounds like a pretty normal conversation except that she was having it with my sleeping face and I was vaguely listening to her in a fog. In my hallucinating state her stories started to send my own thoughts into crazy town too. First I started debating on the odds of this woman being dangerous causing my sleeping mind to start compiling a list of all threatening items lying nearby that she could hurt me with… needles, scissors, stapler, tape… yup even tape seemed dangerous to me all of a sudden. Then my mind drifted to my own dog. Maybe she was on to something and I should say I have PTSD so that I could get Bentley registered and he could come to the hospital with me. It would certainly make me feel better to hug my dog while having all of these treatments and tests. Problem is that Bentley is not that well behaved and would most likely spend the day running from patient to patient stealing their hospital sandwiches and cheese and crackers. I pictured him sitting in a chair beside my hospital bed with his soother that he loves to hold in his mouth, growling at anyone who dared to come near me and I started laughing. This of course caused the loud talker to think she said something funny so she started laughing too and speaking all the more loudly. So not a really restful day for me today.
When I brought up Danny’s big fall with him, he mentioned that, not only did I demonstrate a lack of concern for his safety, but I also was the reason he fell out of bed in the first place. Apparently I was all of the way over on his side of the bed so he was so close to the edge of the bed that when he rolled over to turn off his alarm clock he rolled into thin air and flew right out of the bed. Now, I must agree that I did demonstrate a level of insensitivity that I am not altogether proud of but I do deserve some credit for being on the alert for burglars. I mean I was up and ready to go and if someone would have been breaking into the house I would have attacked and saved his butt from the intruders. Also, the reason I was so far over in the bed was because the dog was on my side of the bed and everyone knows that you don’t mess with the dog when he is asleep. My husband knows about the dog as the two of us dance the “Do Not Disturb the Dog Tango” every night. It starts when we first get into bed and the dog jumps up. The two of us immediately start moving our legs around trying to jokey for the most space in the bed, encouraging the dog to move to the other person’s side of the bed. I can’t stand when the dog lies by my feet as my feet get claustrophobic and Danny can’t stand when the dog sleeps at the top of the bed because he will continuously lick Danny’s face and because Bentley snores like and old man. I think his snoring is cute, especially since he does it while holding a soother in his mouth. So when the dog comes to bed I begin kicking my feet around and swishing them like I am making a snow angel in the sheets and Danny starts flapping his arms to keep the dog at the end of the bed. Eventually he always ends up settling in the same spot, behind Danny’s knees. Once he is settled neither one of us like to move and disturb him. Not certain why this is but we can be in the most awkward and uncomfortable position and neither one of us will just kick the dog out of bed so we can get a good night’s sleep. We are essentially held hostage by the cuteness of our dog. On that particular night, Bentley had decided to sleep behind my knees causing me to shuffle over to Danny’s side of the bed to alleviate the growing claustrophobia in my legs. So essentially, it was not my fault that he had fallen out of bed, it was Bentley’s fault. Ahhhhh! I feel much better now as clearly the whole episode was not my fault but the dog’s. I can now sleep with a clear conscious, which I am off to do right now because man am I tired but I do promise to throw Danny an “Are you ok?” the next time he falls out of bed again as this is just common courtesy. I love you babe!