Saturday, September 27, 2008

Less, The Sleequel...?

Here I am again...
A week later...
Still sleepless.

Miserably awake in the middle of the night with no hope of sleep is a lonesome, cold place to be. A place without comfort.

Nash is somewhat better. We had another doctor visit on Wednesday. This time he got an antibiotic. It's doing some good but it's taking time.
Tonight -- now -- just short of 3 a.m., he's sleeping. But moaning, groaning with almost every breath. Not wheezing, mind you, just very vocal slumber.
This after an hour-long uncontrollabe crying jag.
The child is in pain and nothing I try to do for him helps.
It's horrific to watch him suffer and be completely helpless.

If the antibiotic hasn't made a significant difference by Monday, he's back to the doctor.
This time, no guesswork.
This time, I want bloodwork for my child.
This time, we need a real diagnosis and real treatment.
Or better yet, he'll be all better and back to his regular two-year-old self and we wont' even need to go.

Saturday, September 20, 2008

Sleepless in Athens

So accustomed are we earthlings to gravity that sometimes we just keep on walking whether we can see the surface under our feet or not.
Is this an example of faith?
A couple of definitions for the word faith, according to the American Heritage Dictionary as cited at dictionary.com, are
Confident belief in the truth, value, or trustworthiness of a person, idea, or thing.
Belief that does not rest on logical proof or material evidence.

Some synonyms listed for faith are confidence, belief, trust, conviction.
I arrive at this quandary after walking to the end of my driveway a few moments ago to fetch the morning paper (which, by the way, was not there yet; the time being just past 4 a.m.).
As I stepped along wearing my soft house slippers, it occured to me that I couldn't see where I was walking. Yet I did not feel hesitant at the potential for stepping on something unseen and I certainly had no inclination that the ground would fall away under my feet at any point.
This leads me to the thought that, even though it's been two weeks today since I've gone for a run, I am still a runner.
It's still in my blood just like the ground is still under my feet even when the moon's reflections aren't bright enough for me to see my shadow's fall.
Yes, the ground is still under my feet.
And I am still a runner.
So, then, my sabbatical from running is really nothing more than the proverbial pile of poop left in my driveway by a neighborhood dog.
I might step into it, unseen in the dark, but once I wipe it off in the grass, the ground will still be firm under my feet and I can just keep right on walking.