As a Slave to Somnolence
a small taste of narcolepsy-with-cataplexy
We walk, not in unison. Not because we don’t want to, but because your legs pull you forward and mine drag me down. I watch as you bounce with enthusiasm, walking with purpose, emanating energy like you’re the goddamn sun. I will my legs forward, let out a small squeak in pleading for you to wait up. I breathe deeply and push forward in a poorly executed hustle.
We sit, cozy in our tiny chair. The cat at our feet, her eyes on the television with an eager intensity that neither of us seems able to match. We watch in amusement as she leans forward, letting out excited little mews when something completely irrelevant to cats happens on-screen. A woman makes a statement, nodding her head in finality. A man smooths his hair back. Mister Pooch (my dog in Dragon Age Origins) lets out a “woof!” and rolls over on his back.
I giggle, because the cat is absurdly cute and confusing. My limbs turn to jelly. Whatever I am holding falls into my lap as I lose all control, from shoulders down to fingertips, from hips down to tiptoes. I giggle and accept my fate, at the mercy of my body and its whimsy. I am limp and amused and waiting until I have enough strength to pick up the controller and continue playing, pick up my book and continue reading, pick up my food and continue eating, pick up my body and continue living…
We sleep. For three hours each night, in the same bed, we sleep. Three hours when our sleep patterns overlap. Three hours when our brain waves sing and swim and slumber so close to one another. Three hours in which I can be close to you, so close to you, while fully entrenched in my supposed repose. Three hours in which I can pretend that our bodies might somehow synchronize.
I am frustrated as I fall asleep many hours before you do. I am frustrated as you wake up and you pace around the room and you whistle a cheery tune that clearly says “I-I’m awa-ake and yo-ou’re no-ot!” I am frustrated as I snooze, only hours after getting out of bed. I am frustrated as I doze off every. fricking. time. we attempt to watch something for more than five minutes. I am frustrated because I know that it frustrates you too, and I am sorry.
I am weakened, like when laughing, as you make sure I am comfortable. As you take over the carrying of things. As you prepare my lunch and take a bite of it to remind me of you when I open it the next day. As you feed the cat. As you take care of me in ways I never expected. I am weakened as I look up into your eyes. My forehead wrinkles from the amount of effort I have to exert just to open my eyes enough to look at you. I channel the last dregs of energy down my arm, into my hand, so I can pet your soft, stubbly cheek. So I can look in your eyes and touch your face and plead with all my heart that you understand how much all of this means to me.
Pleading that you have patience as my fingers slide down your neck, as my eyelids fall, as I am lost to this curse once again. As I succumb, a slave to somnolence.
Originally posted at the narcolept.
