Oxymoron

I just do not get it. I struggle to stay awake during the day, yet can't get any sleep at night unless I drug myself up, which I do do from time to time. Last night I had a hot, squeaky, hard bed that I tossed and turned in with the little dog who was pretending to be a pig, grunting and groaning and rooting for truffles in the covers. I couldn't get the temperature right. Covers on, too hot. Peeled back, too cold. I couldn't find the right combination for comfort. There were no soft spots for me to melt into like I usually do. And the more I tossed and turned the more I thought about how I needed to go get the WD40 and oil my damn squeaky bed. Of course I had to move the bed around and try to make a tune out of the hideous squeaking, which made Sugarbowl poke her head in to see what the little dog and I were doing to make the bed squeak like that. My pillows had turned into hard wedges when I could have sworn they were comfortable soft billowy clouds the night before. I think I finally drifted off between 11 and 12, but I'm not sure. I won't let myself look at the clock after a certain point because I start adding up the possible hours of sleep I would get if I slept until ______. I woke up at 4 this morning. More like my eyes popped open and there was no sleep left in me. How I slept on that hard, hot, squeaky bed with hard cement squares for pillows was a mystery to me, because obviously nothing had changed in the night. The little dog and I fought in the bed until it was game over when he decided he needed to clean his wee wee.

I push myself all day long to wear myself out. Yesterday I was so tired after my exercise class that I really, really wanted to take a nap. I was hoping to get a decent night's sleep so I made myself get up and get moving. I cleaned the house and ran a few errands, all for naught. No matter how dead tired I am, it is impossible for me to get more than 6 hours of sleep. Every once in a great while I can eke out 7, and then I feel like I should get the gold medal in the sleep competition. All the different doctors I see want me to get at least 8 hours of sleep because they say a person with MS NEEDS their sleep. My pain doctor, who I am loving because his suggestions have really helped me, even talked about sleeping meds. I pooh pooh-ed that idea because MSers are known for having the evil beast called "fatigue." I do double up on my baclofen and sometimes take flexeril to help me sleep, but I don't want to get accustomed to those higher doses/extra medicines and have them not work anymore. This morning I have been thinking that maybe he does know what he is talking about, especially as he was so right on about my other problems. I hate to take a sleeping pill but am fantasizing about a full night's sleep...

Yesterday, when I went to get a few things from the store, there was an older gentleman getting the same kind of creamer as me. Said gentleman was wearing pajamas. There was no gray area about it. They were flannel pajamas of the variety that grandma and grandpa wear on cold winter nights. He even had slippers on. We were both grabbing the exact same kind of creamer and I noticed that for all his pajama-and-slippers-wearing-to-the-store ways, he was clean and smelled like after shave. Albeit an old man after shave, but a fresh smell none the less. We both laughed at us going for the same jug of creamer and agreed that it was the best kind. He seemed to be with it, so I figured that he must have the same lack of sleep problem I do and he wears his pajamas out and about to entice sleep to come visit him. If it works, I am going to start wearing my pajamas everywhere. Goodness knows it couldn't hurt.