More exactly the same totally different stuff

Yes, it's 5:45 a.m. on day two of the Without Sleep Festival.  Is it day two?  I'd have to sit down with paper, pencil and erasure to make sure of that, though I'm not sure in what way I'd use those instruments.  Maybe I need I calendar. I like it better when such things can be measured with clocks instead of calendars.  Or maybe I should just shut up.  It's enough to say it's been too long since I slept.

Actually, I slept.  I looked at the clock at last at 1:4. . .something.  I woke at 3:02 or there abouts.  So that means I had. . .I don't know.  Some sleep but no where near enough.  And now I'm trying to decide if I should go to work tomorrow.

Let's see. . . I'm a bit paranoid.  I'm pretty sure no one likes me.  I mean who could like someone so weak and puny and sleepless?  Someone so self-centered that she writes not one, but two blogs about her own insomnia as if it's the most important thing in the world.  That may not be paranoia come to think of it.  Sounds reasonable, actually. I don't even like me.  Who would!

I can't do simple math.  (3:02 - 1:4 something = ?)  I never was great at math, though.  I've not one little chance in hell of counting backwards from 100 by sevens and I practice it often.

I did see that person in the kitchen who wasn't there.  But he didn't last long and I knew it was just a wee hallucination.  And yes, I know people don't usually hallucinate after just a couple of days without sleep, but I have always needed sleep more than the average bear.  I couldn't even stay awake during slumber parties when I was a teenager.

I can, however name the last four presidents and tell you what I had for dinner last night. Or was that the night before?

I'd say I'm emotionally labile.  I either want to throw things while screaming obscenities or cry.

I can't remember right now what else I'm supposed to be able to do in order to pass a mini mental status exam.


So, taking this evidence into consideration, should I go to work tomorrow?  I mean today? Did I mention that I'm a mental health therapist?  Did I mention that I've missed a heck of a lot of work because I'm a puny weenie who gets sick at the drop of a hat?  Would you rather have A) a therapist who is really good, but out sick too much, or 2) goes to work and is not quite with it in your sessions?  (Have you ever worried about the word therapist - the rapist?) Would  you rather have an employee who was 1) really good at what she does but calls in sick too often or B) an employee who is reliably mediocre?

I'm going to call Dougie, my doctor in the morning.  Well, I mean it's morning now, but I'll wait until his office opens.  And I'm going to explain to the nice young woman at the desk this whole thing and she will slowly write it all down.  Then she will put me on hold while she finds a nurse.  A nurse will eventually pick up the phone and she'll begin with a sigh of exasperation.  I will be sure that she only sighs that way when on the phone with me because either 1) I'm paranoid or B) I'm a puny weenie who thinks the world revolves around her little problems. Then she'll say something about have I tried blah, blah, blah and if it was within my power to try it, I have and will tell her so. She'll arrange for me to come in to see Dougie, who is actually a good primary care doctor.

Dougie will ask appropriate questions.  I'll wonder why I didn't just grow a pair of ovaries and go to work like a big girl. He'll tell me that people don't usually die of insomnia.  I may remind him that people might die from telling insomniacs that.  He'll think, "Well, she has a sense of humor, she must not be too bad off."

Dougie will either A) cure me right away, giving me a magic touch, pill, shot or shake a magic gourd over my head - I've absolutely no preference what form the cure takes or 2) tell me to let this take its course in which I'll have to seriously consider taking matters into my own hands.  The problem with that is that I've been handling my own problem for the past couple of days and it's still a problem.

And here comes that phrase again Torn between the things that I should do.  Thank you Kenny Rogers for the theme of my life. 

Ok, friends, it's 6:26 a.m.  I eagerly await your suggestions.  Sorry I wasn't more entertaining.  I feel badly about it already.