Deranged

As a sleep technician I normally work an 11 hour shift at night monitoring and treating patients. Most of us only work two nights per week, as we can’t have our sleep techs developing a sleep disorder. We then work a day shift either running clinics or doing afternoon siesta studies.

Last week I’d completed my usual two nights in a row and was, for some reason, very sleep deprived. When this happens it tends to lower any barriers I may have and usually means I land up giggling at the silliest things. The stress of staying awake for long periods at night when your body wants to shut down does take its toll. Being friendly and compassionate to patients in the morning whilst discussing their overnight study and treatments after having had no sleep can be difficult, but as a medical professional this is the only mode you can be in. Most patients are desperate for an answer, so you push your tiredness to one side and get on with the job. Laughing is a stress release for me.


Having slept on and off the day after the second night I finally dragged myself out of bed for a few hours to have dinner. Hubby loves cooking so on the nights I am not compos mentis he takes over the kitchen. Although to be fair – that’s most of the time as I’m not a winner when it comes to cooking. My talents lie in other places...

After dinner he disappeared into the kitchen. A short while later I heard cupboard doors slamming, lots of grumbling, mumbling and cursing. My curious brain had me peeking around the kitchen door to find him shouting at a Tupperware bowl. Was this a life and death situation? No, it was a devious plot by the Tupperware in the cupboards. He couldn’t find the lid. I could feel a giggle starting in my toes.

Like everything in the UK, the kitchen is small, so we have to be very neat with everything otherwise nothing would fit. I volunteered to find the lid whilst he retired to the lounge to stab at the TV remote with frustration. I couldn’t find it and the more I searched the more I giggled until the tears were pouring down my face. Eventually I put the left overs in another bowl that did have a lid.

Hubby came into the kitchen to see how I was doing to find me hunched over the table, laughter tears streaming. In a huff he picked up the offending bowl and threw it with a flourish into the bin stating that if we had no lid there was no use for it. I tried to stop laughing and handed him the lidded Tupperware to place in the fridge in the utility room.

My brain then went into overdrive as I imagined the look on his face when he found that the fridge was taking part in the conspiracy and had hidden away. By the time he’d returned to the kitchen I was gasping with laughter. The perplexed look on his face slowly morphed into a slight smile. His mouth twitching he announced it was time for me to go to bed, turned me around and frog marched me to the foot of the stairs.

As the stairs are narrow he couldn’t walk up them next to me. Instead he came up behind me and pushed me up the stairs, his hands on my bum. My legs were so weak I had difficulty climbing and collapsed in a heap at the top. I farted as I collapsed. A small ladylike fart but a fart nevertheless. I heard him say, "Wha-!", followed by a snort, then a bark of laughter before he plonked himself next to me. So there we were like two silly five year olds, giggling uncontrollably at the top of the stairs. Our son came to see what was going on and just shook his head.

After settling me in the bed, hubby, with a smile on his face, shut the door behind him. In a final burst of adrenaline, my deranged thoughts then imagined him in a few months time finding the offending lid and having a hissy fit because he couldn’t find the bowl to go with it, forgetting that he’d thrown out.

Finally, my brain did the only thing it could – it shut down and I slept for fourteen hours.

Oh, we do have fun.