Night Stalkers

Susan has her days and nights mixed up. Any parent can relate to the endless nights of just being awake followed with long sleepy days. I have spent the past few days knocking on Susan’s door and tempting her with fun activities we could be doing, if she were only awake. Inevitably it is that groan that floats through the closed door followed by some barely audible words that sound something like, “I’m sleepy Karen. Uhhhh….don’t want to do anything…..don’t feel well.” Eventually I get her up in time to re-warm her cold oatmeal and prepare for her some fresh jelly toast and hot coffee.

She complains of her aches and pains, but really they are the same aches and pains she always complains about: her arm, her lower back, her left leg- already diagnosed as arthritis triggered by an old injury. Just in case, I test her to ensure nothing else is going on, like having her move her left foot and hand, checking her blood pressure and temperature. Day after day things look fairly normal, except for the sleepiness. But what else should I expect? Every person in this household who was up for any reason these past few nights have reported seeing Susan’s bedroom light on or finding her wondering around the house.

The nighttime test of wills is nothing new to be sure. Susan can be found securing the house repeatedly after any person goes to bed, shuts a door, enters the kitchen or after any sort of noise or movement that she is sure must have left something undone or unsecured. A hidden camera would find a night time parade of family members checking for Susan, intermixed repeatedly with Susan herself shaking door handles and flipping light switches.

Just last night I stood in the dark hall waiting for things to go silent. I have learned that that is precisely when Susan does her duty. Right on que, as if she were following a script, her door opened and she crept down the hall toward the kitchen -or door- or thermostat. I waited with my hand over the light switch as Susan glided closer and closer, thinking she was undetected this tenth time to secure things. I stood breathless, waiting for her to be in just the right location before I flipped the switch up- lights on!- “Susan, get back to bed. The house is secure already!” I bellow loudly and purposefully. "But….." she tried. “Get to bed!” I did not allow her to indulge me in conversation.

At some point I finally fell asleep hoping Susan too had given up. But this morning after Jeff had walked the house and come back into the bedroom, he informed me that Susan had won last night. “What do you men?” I dreaded the answer. Apparently she had been up after I had sent her back that supposedly last time. She had turned on the lights in the house and moved things around in the kitchen. She wants to be in control like she always was and never fails to remind us of that.

Two nights ago I did my nightly walk through in the dark when I noticed Susan standing in the black living room peeping through the cracks in my shades onto the back patio. “Karen," she whispered in a voice resembling Nancy Drew. "There is a truck just sitting out there waiting to steal my pots.” “What are you talking about?” I asked almost curiously, as I headed toward the door where she stood hunched and peeping through the cracks. I almost bought into the whole espionage thing, making Susan and I the spies about to save the household- from the pot stealers!!

There we were side-by-side peeping, no- SPYING out into the back yard. The solar lights that surround my patio laughed back at us. “It is us, not headlights, Crazies.” I almost heard them say. Jerked back to reality, I pulled myself away from the crack in the door as I announced, “Those are solar lights around the patio that are glaring at you, and not headlights from a truck, Susan. Get to bed.” Of course she wouldn’t take my word for it. Her head found its place back in its peeping spot with her eye centered up at the crack where she apparently recognized them now as solar lights. “Well, I have to make sure.” She reassured me. More excuses. “Get to bed before you find something else to worry about.” I said in a demanding voice, hopeful. Poor Susan, so much to worry about.