Given the current state of affairs, when I visit Craig at home we generally spend a significant amount of our time together sleeping, which actually turns out to work in my favor. As a teacher (apparently “The Teacher”), I spend a lot of time exhausted and sleep is generally in short supply. Plus, sleepy time in the Lawler house continues to be quite the improv show.
Perhaps it’s coming home for the first time in a few days or perhaps the return of the Haladol to the mix of anti-nausea drugs, but Craig was dreaming up a storm yesterday evening. Part of what I love about this is the relatively coherent statements that he makes about his dreams:
Emily: what? (thinking he’s awake)
Craig: maybe the IV wasn’t a good idea
Emily: Ok. Well, good thing it’s out.
And later as I’m half asleep I feel him move a bit next to me. I open my eyes to see his left arm raised straight up in the air above him. Startled, I ask him if he’s ok, to which he replies, “I have to get through the stairwell.” “Are you going somewhere?” I ask. “In this dream,” he says. Ok. Later, he informs us that he was being chased through a decrepit (yes, his word, even in his drugged state) stairwell that was collapsing in places. He had to squeeze through the collapsed bits and was having a hard time making himself small enough to do so.
As Jill is administering IV drugs later he starts to get that “I’m not feeling so hot” look. Pushing the drugs sometimes makes him sick and we all wait on tenterhooks each time to see if the things that are supposed to help will cause more problems.
Jill: (Seeing the look on his face) You still doing ok?
Craig: You’re just giving me a lot of medicine. It’s going to fucking knock me out.
Craig: (turns to Emily) I guess I’ll just be your sleeping beauty for a while.
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