I didn’t sleep last night, even though I took medication to help me do just that. I have one of those head colds that doesn’t give a damn about my needs and insists on putting itself first. Last night, for instance, I lay my head down and just as I closed my eyes, my cold asserted itself in the most uncomfortable way imaginable. It made me feel as if I had cardboard at the back of my throat and could not swallow. It felt dry and distant, like no matter how many times I tried to swallow I couldn’t reach far back enough to get the job done. So there I was, hours in my bed, drugged up on nighttime medicine, and my cold was refusing to let me sleep. I tried everything: sleeping on my stomach, sleeping sitting up. Curling up in a ball, lying down flat. I even did deep stomach breathing like I do in yoga. But nothing. I just felt nauseated. Eventually I drifted off to sleep, but it was a fitful rest, waking up every so often to cough or try to clear my throat or rub my stomach to make it feel better.
To make matters worse, during one of the times I was awake, I heard from down below on the street, a trio of men strumming guitars and singing something terrible at the tops of their lungs. In response, I covered my head with a pillow and drifted off into a claustrophobic sleep for another collection of minutes.
When my alarm finally woke me up, I stumbled out of bed and into the shower so dense from the lingering medicine in my system that the first thing I put in my hair, even before water, was conditioner. I knew then I was in for a day. And so far, it’s been one filled with listening–or trying to, since I can’t hear–and sniffing through 31 7th grade oral presentations, with 19 more to go beginning in just a few minutes. One of my students offered me a Halls, which I graciously accepted and thanked him for profusely. I’m eager for the week to be over if only so I can sleep late on Saturday and Sunday.
There’s the bell. Onto 4th period, and hopefully getting well soon.