I Don’t Do Mornings

November 17, 2010

“If people were meant to pop out of bed, we’d all sleep in toasters.” ~Garfield

“Pre” SPS, I would wake up at 5:00 AM, shower, make my bed and lunch, arouse a sleepy and grouchy toddler, dress her and make her bed while the commotion awakened her older brother to get ready for school. Then–a dash to the babysitter, a prayer for no train at the railroad crossing, and clock in at my usual two minutes before the 7:00 deadline–early for work. One of my friends greeted me one morning with, “How can you always be so perky so early in the morning?”

Well…I still wake up at 5-6:00 AM, mentally. My SPS body is indifferent to the adage “the early bird gets the worm.” Frankly, my body does not care if there are leftover worms.

I work on my morning warm-up which is feet on the floor, body remaining vertical en route to my first bathroom trip of the day–without event. Morning meds follow coupled with a quiet time to allow for peak efficacy…turtle pace without spasms.

Morning appointments can throw my routine into an SPS free-for-all tailspin. Locked muscles, back ripples, and increasing angst over making it on time make clock-watching seem like a death row midnight vigil. Mentally lighting my oomph candle, I chant, “Free Debbie!”

I had my infusion yesterday morning. It has to be morning because an infusion is a several hour process. I woke up feeling well, but the dreaded ‘get up and go’ kicked in my symptoms as I allowed myself four hours to prepare for my appointment. I showered the night before. Hair was just brushed and makeup was minimally applied. I managed my clothes, but shoes were an obstacle. I allowed myself a couple of 15-minute breaks to calm excited muscles as I chugged 3-4 bottles of water in preparation for my infusion.

Leaving an hour early, my body trembled slightly as I left pulling my food, drinks, reading materials, purse, and glucometer in a surrogate walker disguised as a computer case with my hiking pole in the other hand. My body jerked slightly as I got my gear and rear into the car.

Listening to an oldie station, my body settled as the hard part was temporarily over until I arrived at the parking garage. Luck was with me yesterday. A handicapped parking space three over from the door and elevators! (Available handicapped parking spots at hospitals are for another post.)

My veins were pumped. The IV was easily started an hour after my appointment, but my infusion went without a hitch. As I was released, my body was in a totally different temperment than when I arrived–it co-operated. It was afternoon. Like Garfield, I don’t do mornings.

Graphics Hunt

Copyright © 2010

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One thought on “I Don’t Do Mornings

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