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No rest for the wickedly tired

Well, I didn't sleep last night, how about you? So, my hospital bed is an air mattress that adjusts to my every move, which is quite nice while awake and busy typing or watching a movie. But if you sleep like a princess being antagonized by a tiny legume, the constant inflation under one body part with opposing deflation under another, accompanied by persistent electronic hum and vibration is infuriating!  And no, sorry, it can't be turned off.  And the lights. The damn lights! Ever since moving to a wooded island 12 years ago, any ray of light, no matter how small, is totally intrusive to my sleep. So, the orange power light of the Telesitter 6-2200* across from the end of my bed feels like a streetlight.  Remembering the brilliant pro-tip I learned from a savvy business traveler who never leaves home without a roll of electrical tape to black-out the glow of her hotel-room electronic displays, I asked the nursing assistant last night if she could put a
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This morning...

I’m jumping around here because I want to catch up. There’s a lot but nothing too exciting---yet. Also - I'm really tired... I got to the hospital right on timethis morning – 7:30 AM check-in. I got my QR-coded bracelet and was in my sad little room by 8:00. My nurse, Daniel came in, took some vitals and we chatted. Daniel continues to come in throughout the morning, repeating everything he told me last time he came in. I think he’s nervous. No wait, that’s me. By the way, did I mention that I’m going to be PLUGGED INTO A WALL for a FEW DAYS? I can’t get out of bed alone. With this in mind, I decide that standing as long as I can before they hook me up is a good plan. Also – peeing. Lots of peeing – hopefully until I’m totally empty.   I pace back and forth my tiny room, breathing deeply. Around 9:00, the resident comes in. He goes through the medicines he thinks I’m on that I’ve never taken. (Poor kid.) then he recaps things he’s read from my chart
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Then and now

May 5, 1996   I woke from a restless sleep at around 4:30AM.    My dad and I walked from my basement apartment into the sleepy Portland morningand got into my red Honda CRX. Dad turned the key and I eard the familiar iclick-click-click-click! that happens when the battery is dead. I'd left the lights on again for the bazillionth time. Was this an unconscious doing? After all, getting to a 5:30am check-in for brain surgery wasn’t something I’d been looking forward to. I’d had so many fantasies about how this operation miraculously wouldn’t have to happen. They’d looked at someone else’s MRI! They suddenly had a new, improved procedure or pill that lets you avoid surgery: Ask your doctor about Hemangiorest today! Or the ever-popular Newhart ending —it was all just a bad dream. But this was real, I was going in for surgery and my car was dead wouldn’t start. We went back to my apartment and called a cab. That day, the surgury team successfully  resected 
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