Sleep

'Sleep is a reconciling, A rest that peace begets Doth not the sun rise smiling, When fair at e'en he sets?' I always liked that poem, attributed to John Donne. Markus had a fair morning, and I was so happy he could speak to me, though in a whisper. The night hadn't been good, and he'd been struggling for breath. But we talked a bit in the morning before he settled down to sleep and I went to the doctor's for his tablets and then did some 'retail therapy'. I came home, ate, fixed up the new chair I bought. And Markus slept. I did some gardening, chatted on here and on facebook, and on the telephone. And Markus slept. I went in, put on the light because it was getting dark - he didn't stir. The doorbell rang, and Markus's sister, a most welcome visitor, came in. Markus didn't notice. I went in, and told him - he stirred, opened an eye - and went back to sleep. But something must have got through to him, because he began to wake up after a while, and later, when he'd got his breath, we were able to sit and laugh a bit, and he whispered a few funny things, and was more like his old self. He looks better, his breathing is not as bad as it was ( but it's still pretty bad) - and he even had a mini, mini glass of milk. A liqueur glass full. That's all he's had since Monday. I don't know how I can ever get him to take anything more - he doesn't want the intravenous feeds, he doesn't want to drink milk or anything with a taste in it ...and he refuses it all vigorously. Perhaps some more sleep would help?