Eating In My Sleep

I'm on my back on the kitchen floor.  I’m asking my wife if I need to go to the hospital.  She says no.  I ask her again.  She says no, again.  My big toe on my right foot looks really bad.  Like I’d stuck my bare foot under the lawn mower or tried to kick an angry badger. 

I take Ambien.  It’s for insomnia.  The coolest part about Ambien is when you don’t take it; you get to stay up all night.  If I have to work all night, I don’t take Ambien.  It’s better than an energy drink, or having the neighbor’s house burn down.  New slogan, “On those nights you just don’t want to sleep, forget your Ambien.”

I went with my son on a Boy Scout overnighter.  At eleven PM, I realized I’d forgotten my Ambien.  I was about eight miles from home.  I didn’t want to bother driving home and driving back again.  Plus I was worried that the campground gate might be closed, or I’d have to deal with angry campground hosts.  To become a campground host you have to have a degree in hostility with a minor in aggression.  I wanted to be a campground host, but I made the mistake of majoring in hospitality.  After graduation, the Forest Service turned me down.  I ended up working in a hospital.

Spending the night in a tent with a thirteen year-old boy can be a lot of fun.  The fun part is when you fall asleep right after crawling in your sleeping bag and sleep the whole night.  That way you’re only conscious of what you’re doing for about ten minutes.  I was able to enjoy the whole ninety seven hours.  I went to bed at eleven, and crawled out of the tent three years later at five AM.  Really, my son isn’t bad to share a tent with.  There were minimal strange odors.  Kids don’t really mean what they say when they talk in their sleep, right?  Just to be safe, I slept with a hatchet for a few weeks.

I was determined to get off Ambien when I went in for surgery, so I didn't ask for it in the hospital.  I was loaded up on Morphine for my first twenty four hours.  I didn’t sleep.  The next day I was loaded up on liquid Lortab, I didn’t sleep.  I didn’t sleep for four days.  I could get close to sleep.  We could almost hold hands, and then sleep, being the jerk that it is, would run away laughing.  So, back to the Ambien.  I’m not proud of it.  Don’t judge me.

Before surgery, I was told that my metabolism would change and that change would be a contributing factor in curing type II diabetes.  I didn’t realize how the metabolism change would affect me in other ways.

I’m just plugging along, taking my Ambien at bedtime, and sleeping.  One night I take an Ambien.  I don’t fall asleep for a few minutes, so I get up to get a drink.  It’s all a blur from there.  I fell off a stool.  My toe gets shredded so bad that the only hope is amputation.  My wife is trying to stop me from ripping off my toenail and (what I thought was) dead skin.  I vaguely remember hydrogen peroxide and bandages.

The next morning I'm limping around, hurting.  I’m ready to eat some leftover sirloin tips for breakfast.  I open the fridge, and they’re mostly gone.  I’m angry.  “Who ate my food?  Was it one of the kids?”  My son walks in and says, “You ate your food.  I came upstairs last night and you were sitting there eating them.  You told me about how you’d hurt your toe and then you visited with me for about twenty minutes.”

I'm wondering how I fit several sirloin tips inside of me?  Maybe I stuffed them in my cheeks and chewed on them through the night. And, what did I say to my son?

The next night, I take my Ambien, and wander out to the kitchen to eat a few beans from a can of pork and beans.  The next morning, I awake with this vague feeling that my wife was mad at me last night.  I think she even yelled at me.  Later that day, my wife tells me that the night before, I’d eaten the entire can of pork and beans.  When she caught me, she yelled at me and took the bowl away.  Our first fight.

A few months ago, I could put away a plate of sirloin tips and a can of pork and beans and still have room for cheesecake.  Now, my pouch (stomach) will hold about three air molecules.  How I packed away so much food without heaving is still a mystery.

And, I still don't know how I messed up my toe.  Maybe it was a badger.  Maybe he wanted my sirloin.  I don't know.

My wife and I have worked out a system.   I only take an Ambien when I’m in bed.  Right after I take it, she bolts me down with metal straps.  Then she locks all the doors and sets the motion alarm.  I guess it keeps me safe. It is inconvenient. I’m grateful for bedpans.

Seriously, I’ve cut back to a half dose of Ambien.  My wife gets very nervous if I get out of bed for any reason.  After waking up in St George a couple of times, she’s taken away the car keys.