New day

The start of a new day. A moment of unfulfilled promise and unfolding opportunity. Blinking eyes, a yawn, a stretch – perhaps a delay of “just a few more minutes” – but finally, inevitably, the stagnant comfort of sleep is left behind for another day of activity and purpose.

The close of a long day. A winding down, a recovery, a time to regroup and recover. A chance to lay down tasks and responsibilities and slip into unthinking comfort. A reward for the day’s efforts, and a chance to prepare for the next new beginning.

Two slavering hellhounds bracketing each day.

There is no ease in waking. Sleep brings blissful unawareness of the disease mercilessly ravaging my body. A host of symptoms escort my wakening, all clamoring for attention, and the day cannot begin until their needs are met. So I remain in bed, pretending to sleep, willing my existence out of existence for just a few more minutes – until, at last, my existence can no longer be avoided. Thus begins another day.

And then, at the close, there is no unthinking collapse into slumber’s sweet embrace. Oh, it would be so easy to drop the burden of self-care and be a normal human being for one night. But the consequences prey on my mind, leave me no peace, demand compliance with lengthy and uncomfortable treatments. So once again, I lay in bed, pretending I’m not yet ready for sleep, avoiding the reminders of my body’s weakness, until I can no longer pretend and finally force myself into the prison of my evening routine.

A bitter pill
Against my will
Until the day
When sleep will stay.