Sleep - Part II

In my last post, Sleep-Part I, I wrote about how I'd recently gotten my own bed, and how we had a plan in place to switch things up at our house.

When we first moved into our home in January 2014, we decided it was best for my Mom to have the master bedroom, and to have Jeff's room be centrally located in the house because of his needs. So the first bedroom, located just off the living room, became his - well ours. But it always felt like his - never ours. Yes, I slept there every night too, on my inflatable, non-permanent bed. But when we talked about the room, it was always "Jeff's room" or "Daddy's room" not "Mom and Dad's room."

It's not a very big room, with not a very big closet, so we had a lot of Jeff's medical supplies stored around the room. It wasn't very neat, but it was functional.

And it totally worked for us in the beginning.

But having to lug my mattress in and out of that room every day was taxing.

So I ordered a twin bed. And I was prepared to set it up in the office and sleep apart from Jeff.

Then my Mom sat down with me and Jeff and said, "I'm ready to switch rooms with you guys." We looked at her rather puzzled. She had mentioned when we moved in that when Jeff and I were ready to move into the master, she would be happy to take one of the smaller rooms. We honestly hadn't given it much thought. And when we did, we were hesitant to make the move because the master is located at the back of the house, and Jeff was worried that he might have anxiety about being alone back there - in case he needed something and we couldn't hear him if we were in a different part of the house.

But the more we thought about it, and pondered the pros and cons, the more it sounded like a really good idea.

Of course I had guilt that my mom would have to downsize her room so drastically. But she reassured me that she was ready, and that we needed the master bedroom more than she did. And her being ready made us ready.

And so, we put our plan into action.

It took days to prepare everything for the final move. We had to move things from closets out into the staging area of the garage. Switch clothes and shoes from one closet to the next. Decide how to set up the new rooms, etc.

Once we got all the preliminary stuff moved, it was time to move the beds. My Dad came over and helped with all the heavy lifting. First we moved my twin bed into the master, then moved Mom's bed out and into the living room temporarily. Then we moved a very large, very long dresser into the office. Lastly, it was time to move Jeff's bed into the master. This one was tricky. Jeff has a hospital bed with a motor on it that raises the head and feet. I know that when the supply company set it up, it came in three or four separate pieces. Of course I didn't hover over them to watch how they put it together; therefore, I had no idea how to take it apart.

The bed frame is brown metal with a green mattress that sits on a maze of springs. I swear it looks like a hospital bed from the 1940s. It might be for all I know. It's also extra long, so we were going to have to figure out how to take it apart in order to bend it enough to get it around the sharp corner and into the master bedroom.

We were gambling here because the whole move was hinging on us getting this bed into the master. I guess we should have started the whole thing with this particular bed move, but what the heck ... we were living on the edge.

When we took off the mattress, my Dad and I looked at the bed-o-springs with furrowed brows. We were sweaty and tired, and quite frankly, not sure how we were going to do this. Jeff drove up in his chair, and in looking over the tangle of metal, quickly figured out where the springs came apart so that we could bend the frame. He also advised that the headboard and footboard should come off to help make the move easier.

Once we got it apart, my parents and I slowly but surely moved that clunk of metal and springs down the hall, and successfully got it into the master. Setting it back up proved nearly almost as tricky as taking it apart. But we did it. I'm so thankful I have parents who are both able and willing to do this kind of stuff for my family. Because it certainly took a team to get this done.

It took several days for me and my Mom to set up our new rooms. And it's now been a couple weeks since we've made the transition.

My Mom had to downsize considerably to move into her new room, and she's done a great job. She's created a cozy, colorful spot that suits her just perfectly. And she loves her new room. Once again, she's gone above and beyond.

Her act has opened a new chapter for us. One that begins with our new room.

Here's some pictures.

It's over twice as big as our old room. Plenty of room for both of our beds, and for Jeff to maneuver his chair.

We absolutely love it.

We love how big it is. We love that all Jeff's medical supplies can be hidden away in the large closet instead of sitting out, staring at us, constantly reminding us of their intrusion into our lives. We love having the bathroom so close. It makes things so convenient.

But what we love most is our time we get to spend in there with Evie.

In our old life, the three of us spent a lot of time in the master bedroom. Each evening we would unwind in there by eating snacks, relaxing, and watching TV. Jeff and I would joke how we finally had a three bedroom home, and yet every night we would all huddle together in the master (including our two cats). Our old master bedroom was the heart of our old house.

Neither one of us realized how much we missed that.

Until we got it back.

Once we were settled, Evie immediately started filling our room with her presence. Her sweet voice drifted in and out, and we would find her in there relaxing on my bed watching a video on her tablet or doing a craft.

Just this morning she climbed into bed with me bringing two dollies with her, and she played quietly while I transitioned from sleeping to waking. We heard Jeff stir, and we both lifted our heads to look at him in the mirror. When he saw our two heads pop up, he said it was the cutest thing he's ever seen.

Something has changed in the last couple weeks. And I think it has a lot to do with this bedroom move.

Jeff and I have our sanctuary back. It's quite different than it used to be, but the feeling is the same.

Jeff summed it up best the other night when we were talking about our new room, realizing how much we missed having a space of our own, and the difference it's made in our new life. He said to me, "I don't feel like we're trying to make it work anymore. It's just working now."

Our room is filled with love.

So are our hearts.

Sleep - Part I

I have a brand new bed of my very own. A REAL (as in non-inflatable) bed.

And it's made a huge difference in our lives.

Over the last year, my sleeping habits have been inconsistent to say the least.

I thought I'd take a trip down sleepy-time lane to re-visit some of the spots I've (tried) to sleep in the last year.

Too bad I didn't take photos of them all. Probably because I'd like to forget most of them.

First there was the folding cot at the initial hospital Jeff was in. The mattress was no longer than I am tall (and I'm only 5'4). It was decently thick but was on horrid springs that squeaked with each move. Those were the early days, so I didn't sleep much anyway. I would position myself on the cot so that I could see Jeff just by opening my eyes, so most nights I slept with my glasses on. I was scared to death his trach would pop off in the middle of the night (and it did several times). He couldn't pull any breaths on his own at that time, so he would pass out quickly if he didn't have air. I guess I thought if I stared at his trach long enough, I could will it to stay in place - I don't know. What I mainly remember from those days was being horribly sleep deprived.

When I wasn't sleeping on the cot, it was stored in the folded position, and I rolled it into the bathroom. That always surprised the cleaning staff. But I learned early on that if you got a cot, you'd better hold on to it if you wanted to see it again.

The second spot was a short stay at a sub-acute facility with no guests beds. So I borrowed a camping cot from my Dad. In fact, I'd taken some forced naps on that thing in the ICU waiting room several weeks earlier. I quickly found that the metal bar located just beneath the canvas of the cot was an unwelcome intruder into my back/side during the night. So I put a thick sleeping bag on it which helped a bit.

Next it was back to the first facility because of pneumonia. So it was five more weeks on another equally squeaky folding cot.

The next bed was a doozie. And I even got a picture of this one. Now we were in the ICU at Rancho Los Amigos. Here Jeff would spend 3 weeks before being admitted. This bed is what I'd like to call a torture device. It was like an antique dental chair, or something equally unpleasant. It didn't unfold to a fully horizontal position, so there was a deep valley in the middle that I would inevitably be sucked into and get stuck. Trying to get out of the chair was a frustrating (to me) and funny (to Jeff) experience.

Pure torture

After Jeff was admitted to SCI rehab at Rancho, I was lucky enough to get the most comfy of convertible chair beds. It was a deep turquoise, leather-like chair that pulled out to an impressive 6 feet in length, and laid all the way flat. Hallelujah! It was actually really comfortable. Jeff's brother, Gary, also slept on that chair/bed when he visited, and was surprised at how comfortable it was. (He also slept on the folding cot from the first hospital, so he had a valid comparison.)

When Jeff had surgery on his tailbone and was transferred down the hall to the surgical unit, my comfy chair/bed mysteriously disappeared. (Lesson learned - do NOT depend on the nurses or staff to move it for you to your new room.) For a couple weeks, I had to go back to my Dad's camping cot which I tried to bolster with a borrowed padded camping roll. Still, I awoke every morning with stiff knees and a sore back - kind of like you would if you were actually camping - and I'm NOT a camper. It wasn't until Jeff's surgeon saw my sad setup and demanded I get the comfy chair/bed back that it made a re-appearance.  I wish I had a picture of this wonder chair. But I found this online, and it's close:

Ta da!

When Jeff was transferred back to the rehab unit (again, down the hall), you bet I rolled my chair/bed myself down that hall - and kept it in my possession the rest of his stay. I remember when a new patient moved in to the bed next to Jeff, and one of his family members was side-eyeing my chair asking if they could get one. Whenever I would leave Jeff to go home for a while, I would tell him, "Do NOT let anyone take my chair." I joked with the nurses on Jeff's discharge day that I just might try to roll it downstairs and into my car.

Once Jeff got home, my new bed became an inflatable mattress. Each night I would set it up next to Jeff's bed. Our bedroom wasn't big enough to allow my bed to stay in place full time, so each morning I would wrestle it out of the bedroom, slide it down the hall, and store it in the office.

I did this routine for 5 months.

Until I woke up one morning and my body locked up on me. I wrote about it in a blog post titled My Body is Rebelling. 

That's when I switched to using Evie's twin mattress on the floor next to Jeff's bed. That mattress was more comfortable, but now it required both my Mom and me to drag the mattress off Evie's bed every night, then drag it back onto her bed in the morning. Plus, Evie was having to sleep with my mom.

We did this final routine for a month until we got to the point where something HAD to give. 

I wanted to continue sleeping next to Jeff. I could no longer sleep in the same bed with him, but I could still sleep next to him, and I wanted to keep doing that. I just couldn't imagine sleeping in another room so far away from him.

But I also needed my own bed. A real bed. Not one you "bring out" every night for sleeping and "put away" every morning for storing.

And so I took a trip to the mattress store.

I tried out several beds, and tried not to let the fact that I was shopping for a twin bed bring me down. I wanted to shop for a king bed. A bed I would share with my husband. But that's a different story altogether.

In the end, I took my Mom to the mattress store on the next visit, and we both decided to get new beds. Our bodies go through a lot in the care we provide for Jeff, and we decided an investment in new, comfortable beds would be worth it.

And while we waited for our new beds to be delivered, we came up with a plan. We were going to shake things up with a major switcheroo at our house ...

... which I'll write about in the next post: Sleep - Part II

In the mean time, Sweet Dreams!