Getting ready to battle the RLS Dragon
7:00 PM Take 2 magnesium glycinate capsules, 2 apple cider capsules, 1 vit. C and 1 iron supplement pill. Large glass of water. No alcohol, caffeine or sugar.
8:00 PM. Stretch legs
9:00 PM. Visiting grandson is staying overnight. I put him to bed after 3 snacks and two drinks of water.
10:00 PM. Rub magnesium cream on legs. Go to bed. Legs start twitching.
Quickly hook up TENS Unit ( not easy in the dark-trying not to wake hubby.)
10:15 PM practice breathing relation exercises; await sleep.
11:00 PM Still awake. Legs starting up again. I can picture tens of thousands of tiny ants crawling up my leg under my skin. Put on leg compression device for 12 minutes. Compress, release, compress, release, compress, release.
11:45 PM. LEGS IN FULL TWITCHING MODE! Run hot bath and walk around while tub is filling. Add Epsom salts. Soak in tub for 20 minutes. Go back to bed and elevate legs on 3 pillows.
12:30 No sleep. I try to read. 1:00 AM. Legs start up. Get up. Smoke some cannabis. Back to bed. Play game on tablet with screen brightness level dimmed. Eyes start to close.
2:10 AM Our guard dog cockapoo mistakes the newspaper deliverer for a possible home invading criminal horde and barks himself hoarse. Might as well let him out since I’m up. He won’t go out. Back to bed. Thank God the grandson didn’t wake up.
2:25 AM. Dog wants to go out. Hubby pretends to be sleeping. I let dog out. Apparently, it’s too cold to expose his nether regions to the snow so he decides perhaps he will hold it (the dog, not my hubby). I scream out the back door, “Pee, goddammit, PEE!”
Neighbor’s backyard light goes on. Dog comes in without relieving himself.
2:30 AM. I microwave a warmie, wrap it around my leg with a belt to forestall any twitching.
3:15 AM. I awake to the dog trying to tear the warmie off my leg. Suddenly, the contents of the warmie has exploded under my covers. I am now using language that a sailor who has been stuck in a submerged submarine for months on end would blush at. Hubby wakes and tactfully suggests I try to get some sleep. He’s so lucky my cast iron frying pan was not close by. It takes forever to get all the little kernels out of the bed.
3:45 AM. I give the dog a Benadryl (he can take it because he doesn’t have RLS). Get back in bed. Trying to avoid thinking about RLS because it’s susceptible to the power of suggestion. It’s like trying not to think of pink elephants. Sure enough, it’s coming on again. Get up and get the frozen peas. I put the cut-off legs of a pair of leggings on my leg, fold the lower part up and put the pea packets in the “pocket” I’ve created. I can’t take an Ambien because I ration them so I won’t get dependent; it’s too soon.
4:30 AM. Grandson wakes, comes in my room to tell me he can’t sleep. He wants to know why I’m crying. I tell him it’s allergies. He wants to know if he can have breakfast. Groggily, I give him my tablet and tell him to have cookies and play any kind of violent internet game he wants as long as he lets me sleep.
As I recount this tale of woe to a friend over the phone in the morning. She suggests I take some melatonin and put a bar of soap under my sheet. I then made a suggestion of my own as to how she could use the bar of soap. We aren’t friends anymore because she says I’m too cranky.