Monster Wrestling

Nightmares plagued Johnny last night. Very strange, indeed. At one point I woke up with absolutely no sheet or blanket covering me. I reached to the end of the bed where they would normally be kicked to, but nothing was there. Johnny was stirring a little so I said, "I don't have any covers." He shouted, "I CAN'T HELP YOU!" And then promptly laid back down and went to sleep.

Well, ok then.

So I looked over on his side of the bed and saw all of the blankets in a heap. Evidently he had been wrestling dangerous monsters and was holding them hostage on his side of the bed. For a minute I contemplated crawling into the bed I had made myself on the floor when Johnny was struggling Wednesday night, but I decided to just grab the top sheet from his monster pile and hope that I didn't let one escape.

We both woke up a little after 7:00 this morning and I asked him what happened last night. "Geez, I was fighting monsters all night." Poor baby, maybe the monsters were the cancers letting him know that they are pissed off that he is trying to eliminate them. I was happy that he was victorious in his dream. Maybe that is the omen we are looking for.

He doesn't remember yelling at me. I have to admit, it made me giggle because he was so incredibly serious when he said it. Kinda like he was fighting monsters and I came along asking for help with the blankets or something.

I got up and made pancakes for breakfast. It was what sounded good to Johnny, so we went for it. He did manage to eat two, then headed back to bed. After a while he got up, took a bath and got dressed in real clothes!

He wanted to try to go out. I wasn't sure what exactly he wanted to do, so I said, "You want to go get some new shoes?" Because I know how happy new shoes (or a purse or luxury bath products) make me feel. "Sure."

He got in the car feeling pretty decent. We headed to Dick's Sporting Goods and got as far as Target and I noticed his color going downhill fast. "Do you still want to go?" "Yep, I'll try it."

We did manage to make it in the store, buy shoes in record time and get back in the car. Success. Seriously, I think we were in the store 11 minutes. On the way home we didn't fair so well. I had to pull over for him, and then was kicking myself for not thinking of giving him his nausea meds before we left the house. That was pretty stupid of me, I know. I also had nothing in the car for after -- you know like a kleenex, paper towel, napkin -- nothing. Shizzle.

OK, I'll chalk that one up to experience. Note to self: Take nausea meds before leaving, keep paper towels in the car, follow your gut -- if he looks bad, he feels bad. Turn around and just go home next time. Duh. I promise I will get better and this care-taking business. This is all new to me, kinda like when you bring your baby home from the hospital and you really have no clue but feel like you should since they trusted you to bring him home and all.

Now that we are back home, I've loaded him up with drugs again and he is sleeping in bed. I know he wanted to try getting out, but I think it was a little too soon.

I hope he gets more rest while napping. Monster wrestling makes you crazy tired.