54 New Sleeping Pills
A colleague of mine who works with another humanitarian agency called to let me know that she was going to be in Lima on business, and offered to drop by.
I welcomed the visit, even if I wasn’t exactly in top shape at playing the congenial host. If anything, I was pretty much at my worst, as by this time I had gone for two straight weeks with only a couple of hours of sleep a night, and my nerves were shot from the recurring pain.
On the anticipated day Catherine arrived and we ended up talking for five straight hours.
Somewhere during the course of our conversation, I explained to Catherine that neither the local painkillers nor sleeping pills I’d tried had worked, so she offered me some that she always carried with her in her travels.
That night I went to sleep with great expectation, at about 11:00 p.m.
I just knew that these sleeping pills from the States were going to be just what I needed to experience a full night’s sleep.
When a sharp pain awoke me, I noticed that it was still dark. Was it almost dawn? --Or had the pills worked so well that I’d not only slept straight through the night but the entire next day, and it was now dusk?
Looking at my watch, I was momentarily befuddled, “11:30?”
Suddenly it dawned on me, “No, I hadn’t slept through the night, let alone the next day. I’d only slept for half an hour!”
My last hopes were dashed, my frame of reference shot and I was so mentally and physically exhausted and fed up with life that I cried and cried.
This was my darkest hour.
Through my depression and tears, I glanced over at a photo of my wife and kids leaning against my bedside lamp.
I welcomed the visit, even if I wasn’t exactly in top shape at playing the congenial host. If anything, I was pretty much at my worst, as by this time I had gone for two straight weeks with only a couple of hours of sleep a night, and my nerves were shot from the recurring pain.
On the anticipated day Catherine arrived and we ended up talking for five straight hours.
Somewhere during the course of our conversation, I explained to Catherine that neither the local painkillers nor sleeping pills I’d tried had worked, so she offered me some that she always carried with her in her travels.
That night I went to sleep with great expectation, at about 11:00 p.m.
I just knew that these sleeping pills from the States were going to be just what I needed to experience a full night’s sleep.
When a sharp pain awoke me, I noticed that it was still dark. Was it almost dawn? --Or had the pills worked so well that I’d not only slept straight through the night but the entire next day, and it was now dusk?
Looking at my watch, I was momentarily befuddled, “11:30?”
Suddenly it dawned on me, “No, I hadn’t slept through the night, let alone the next day. I’d only slept for half an hour!”
My last hopes were dashed, my frame of reference shot and I was so mentally and physically exhausted and fed up with life that I cried and cried.
This was my darkest hour.
Through my depression and tears, I glanced over at a photo of my wife and kids leaning against my bedside lamp.
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