I’ve heard that in POW camps, sleep deprivation is a common form of torture.
I can say that if that’s true, I think I understand how it works.
Lack of sleep is one thing; but continually interrupted sleep is grueling and painful. That’s what Lou and I were up against on our first night in Dave and Judy’s basement. Literally every 15 minutes, Lou was rushing to the bathroom to try to urinate, but it was as if there was nothing following his urgency except for blood. Lots and lots of blood.
The situation was terrifying, frustrating, and completely awful. Even though we had the adult diapers, you just can’t go back to being OK with letting the diapers do all of the work; I think the programming to use the toilet is a permanent default setting by adulthood. So Lou was up and down all night. And therefore, so was I.
I was aware of every movement Lou made, and I felt his fear and pain every time he would get out of bed to stumble to the bathroom. There was nothing I could do, nothing I could say, and absolutely no way to comfort him.
That first night, I used the very last of my orange scented cleaning wipes to tidy things up for Lou — but they didn’t work as well now that all the cleaning fluid was drained out of the package. We did our best to stay calm, but by dawn, it was clear that we needed to check into the hospital. We had to get help and get some real tests from a real doctor — not a wannabe beekeeper in Birkenstocks.
Luckily, Dave and Judy were early risers, and so I joined them upstairs to explain the urgency of the situation. Dave and Judy gave me the right information about the University of Minnesota Medical Center, and I found the address for our GPS.
All I remember about that morning was feeling so tired that it was difficult to think. But after Lou showered up, we got in the SUV, and we managed to find the hospital. I dropped off Lou at the entrance of the ER while I parked the car. By the time I got to the ER reception desk, Lou was already situated in one of the medical bays.
I think this might have been the first time I had relaxed in 48 hours. Knowing that someone besides me was taking care of Lou offered me some much-needed relief. I was numb with worry, but knowing we were finally in a place where Lou could get help warmed my heart a tad. I think I only waited for about 15 minutes before a nurse came to the waiting area to take me to Lou.
When I saw Lou, he was dressed in a hospital gown and tucked into a bed with a group of nurses adjusting things for his comfort. Lou was his usual sweet self, thanking each nurse for her efforts, and lightly flirting with them in his charming little way. I remember feeling myself
