NIghtmare on my street

Three nights of not being able to sleep because I couldn't find a pain-free position took its toll: by the time I arrived at the hospital yesterday morning for a bone biopsy I had been reduced to a snivelling baby. A kindly nurse said it was OK to take some Tylenol 3 before the procedure, which was itself simple and painless, but having to lie down on my stomach for it made me wonder why they gave me intravenous sedation after I'd got on the table instead of before; in seconds I went from weeping and screaming to vowing quietly to myself that I'd hand over the keys to my house to anyone who could supply me with a steady stream of liquid Valium. For half an hour life was indeed blissful.

Meanwhile, lying on a cranked-up hospital bed for a while inspired me to create a similar incline on my bed using a foam wedge form turned upside-down, and I was able to sleep later in the day for two whole, wonderful hours, and again for four straight hours during the night. It's now 5:30 a.m. and I'm paying with increased stiffness and pacing the kitchen in between writing a few sentences here and there, but the gift of sleep has been precious. It's bad enough to suffer insomnia but to be desperately sleepy and not be able to lie down is a torture hard to describe. And a new one for me.

Between securing a few hours of shut-eye and the Tyelenol 3s, I am determined to conduct the memoir-writing workshop for any seniors who show up on November 2, and I will be bright-eyed and in good humour! I promise.

Pollyanna moments:

• My fridge is full of Indian food from my favourite local restaurant, courtesy of three buddies who brought it plus their hilarity to my house on Wednesday night.
• Songs for cancer healing in the night: "Hard Sun" by Eddie Vedder; "Zombie" by the Cranberries; "Tin Pan Valley" by Robert Plant.