It’s three o’clock in the morning and I’ve gone to bed three different times and gotten up every time. When I left the hospital tonight I was sure that I’d be finally able to sleep tonight—Char is doing much better and even though she’s in quite a bit of pain still it’s obvious she’s on the upswing. When she doesn’t move she feels almost normal. So I should be able to relax by now. While I wasn’t sure the first couple of days, she’s not going to die. So I should be able to sleep, but I don’t know why I can’t. Guilt? It feels like that. Projection? Possibly. She doesn’t want me spending nights at the hospital but I feel like that’s where I should be. It’s not like I’m getting more sleep being at home.

I’ll be glad when she’s home. I have no idea how long it will be before we can even think of that. Two days ago I would have guessed weeks but yesterday and today make me think it might be a week or so. I suppose now it depends on how well she does when they start making her get out of bed to move. I understand that thinking it might be a week could be wishful thinking on my part.

Having her home isn’t necessarily going to let me sleep, but at least she’d be here.

Hey, don’t expect anything sensical out of me. No one should have to make sense after three a.m. when they haven’t slept more than 10 hours in three days.