Rip PamWinkle

First published March 13, 2009

A few years ago I discovered a pattern of behavior albeit an embarrassing one. I was in the school parking lot waiting for my daughter's classes to dismiss for the day. I turned off the engine, rolled the window down and listened to music. I had 15 minutes just to savor the moment.

Suddenly my eyes flew open and I jumped at the loud noise. I looked around and saw my daughter getting into the car. "Did you get out early?" I asked.

She looked at me quizzically and said, "No. Just the normal time."

That can't be right. I just got here. I looked at the car clock and sure enough it was time for school to let out. I had fallen sound asleep for 15 minutes. 

Most wouldn't be alarmed by this. I mean everyone has moments where they doze off at odd times of the day. I didn't think much about this until I was sitting on the couch later that same day and fell asleep again.

For the next several days I could barely drag myself anywhere. Before any of you get any ideas, there weren't and won't be any more future Morton blessings so that wasn't the problem. 

I began to think about all the things I had to do in my day to day routine. Some were major projects demanding a lot of time and attention. I had a few business decisions to make. I was worried about a family member. Yes, it was all adding up to a very simple word "stress."

Stress was weighing on me in ways I didn't even realize consciously. However, my physical body knew it and was taking action. I think the conversation went something like this:

"Earth to Pam. Earth to Pam. We've got a problem here. You're making your stomach lining look like swiss cheese."

"Uh...Pam. I know you may not feel it, but some of your internal organs are beginning to riot."

"McFly? Your heart is taking a bit of a workout. Do you mind toning down the adrenaline-pumping activity schedule?"

Receiving no response from the Conscious Pam, a mutiny ensued. If I can't manage the stress consciously, they will do it for me. Thus, I self-diagnosed myself with the condition known as "Stress Narcolepsy."

It's true. Whenever I am feeling overwhelmed or stressed, an unbelievable sense of tiredness overtakes me. I'm not a tightly-wound person. On the contrary, I'm pretty laid back and take much in stride. Yet when my brain has decided I've had enough to cope with, it sends the trigger for me to go into a deep sleep.

At first I was distressed by this. Now I realize it's a total gift from God. I don't stay up late worrying about things. I don't fret. I don't even get ulcers. I just close my eyes and sleep and sleep and sleep.

I understand that I can't live my life like this all the time. I could never get anything done, but on days that I think it's necessary I will simply take my body's advice and lie down.

Since coming to Cairo, I've been in a fairly good state of mind. This was a major move, a job change, new relationships, new culture, new language... I have had good support from Jesus, my family and friends.

Then one day John announced that he and the girls were going to check out a new open air market. He told me that I should stay home and enjoy the quiet, read a book or do something creative. I was thrilled with the possibilities of 4 glorious hours alone (no offense family).

They waved their goodbyes and I began to plot. I poured a Diet Coke, pulled out an episode of "Frasier," got a blanket and took a deep breath. Yessiree, I'll watch this, then I'll read a mystery, make a card and....

That's right. I fell asleep. Next thing I know I hear the doorbell. Half-awake, half-comatose I staggered to the front door. John and the girls had returned. I thought they had forgotten something. It was not to be. They had been gone over four hours and I had slept through it all.

Goodbye new mystery novel. Goodbye creativity. Goodbye no-guilt afternoon. I was so mad at myself. John smiled and said, "Stress narcolepsy?" I nodded my head and tried to regain full consciousness.

I guess I had reached my limits. Finding all the places and items we needed to live, starting the study of a difficult language, building new relationships took its toll. I'm even sleepy now just thinking about it. I know that I'll even out here soon enough and I'll be able to be fully function again.

Until then, John is on alert to keep me propped up, nudge me when necessary and prevent me from drooling. He's simply thrilled. Good man that John Henry. Good man.