Chapter 80 - Tango for Two
I hear my name. My dream fades; I'm already forgetting it. "Are you OK Dear?". "I need to get up." I remove my CPAP mask, lift her legs to the edge of her bed, tilt her into a sitting position with her left arm around my neck, help her stand my arms around her waist after positioning her shoes to slip onto her feet. We both go our own ways; she to hers, me to mine. I return in time to find her grasping the fireman's pole. Holding her hand, I lead her back to bed while the beam of her LED torch tremors from side to side in front of us. As usual, I help lift her right leg for her to kneel on her bed before toppling her forward & sideways. Mostly she lands in a comfortable position. I flash the torch on her alarm clock - 4:25am. Soon her soft snores can be heard over the rush of air from my CPAP. I lay wake unable to return to the glow of my broken dream; I wonder what it was about, my thoughts lead on to other trivia, I mentally itemise things to be done.
She calls again. "No my legs are sticking out." I stop my CPAP machine, take off the mask, roll over into the gap between our beds. "Your legs are OK - they are not off the edge of the bed." "They feel they are." I attempt to push them over. "How's that?" "No good." I go through the routine of sitting her upright. She is very stiff. I kneel on the floor, head on her breasts. "What time is it?" I shine the torch on her clock. An hour has passed since last time. "Almost time for your pill" I say. "What can we do?" "We could always cuddle" I suggest and she replies "It takes two to tango." So we repeat the routine of standing her to push her back into bed. In doing so, she has her back to her bed, so we waltze shuffle around to position her. Not much of a tango I think to myself.
The half hour to the 6 o'clock alarm is a long one while she snores a little once more. The alarm sounds without waking her. I call out. The alarm stops, by itself, too tired to ring any more. I help her to sit, hand her the old pill bottle in which she keeps her early morning dose of Modepar Rapid in water (she prepares the next day's meds before bed each night). As usual she needs a few squirts of water from her other Microsoft XP bottle (did I tell you the other Microsoft bottle developed a crack in its side for which no patch was available? I will probably never get a Vista bottle). We stand & tumble her back into bed. I collect my glasses and CB radio. "I'm keeping you awake" she murmers. "No you're not Dear" as I leave for the dungeon to type & listen to some classics on the BBC.
Time for a shower now & some breakfast. Perhaps I'll return to post a few notes about the last two weekends.
She calls again. "No my legs are sticking out." I stop my CPAP machine, take off the mask, roll over into the gap between our beds. "Your legs are OK - they are not off the edge of the bed." "They feel they are." I attempt to push them over. "How's that?" "No good." I go through the routine of sitting her upright. She is very stiff. I kneel on the floor, head on her breasts. "What time is it?" I shine the torch on her clock. An hour has passed since last time. "Almost time for your pill" I say. "What can we do?" "We could always cuddle" I suggest and she replies "It takes two to tango." So we repeat the routine of standing her to push her back into bed. In doing so, she has her back to her bed, so we waltze shuffle around to position her. Not much of a tango I think to myself.
The half hour to the 6 o'clock alarm is a long one while she snores a little once more. The alarm sounds without waking her. I call out. The alarm stops, by itself, too tired to ring any more. I help her to sit, hand her the old pill bottle in which she keeps her early morning dose of Modepar Rapid in water (she prepares the next day's meds before bed each night). As usual she needs a few squirts of water from her other Microsoft XP bottle (did I tell you the other Microsoft bottle developed a crack in its side for which no patch was available? I will probably never get a Vista bottle). We stand & tumble her back into bed. I collect my glasses and CB radio. "I'm keeping you awake" she murmers. "No you're not Dear" as I leave for the dungeon to type & listen to some classics on the BBC.
Time for a shower now & some breakfast. Perhaps I'll return to post a few notes about the last two weekends.
posted by Kilpike | 6:18 am
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home