Gloria Ferris

Tim is writing this post for me, but this is the tale of me and my ever-jumping bed.

Those who have visited me in the last week or two have probably been greeted with the words, "I swear, if I didn’t know better, this bed moved all night long!"

At first, I thought it was me and the medications they gave me each day. But then I happened to tell one of the nurses, "If I didn’t know better, I’d think my bed was moving," and she answered, "It is!"

It turns out that my bed is a highly sophisticated model that keeps severely disabled people from getting pressure sores. These beds are great things, but certainly not what I need. When I come to bed at night, I need to be able to sink down into a comfy bed, cover myself with blankets, and snuggle down in between to get a good night’s rest because sleep is when you heal.

Right now, the only one in the room getting any sleep is that bed. Well, this isn’t over yet. It may have won the battle, but it’s certainly not won the war. Hooray, Dr. Cui has given the order to banish that bed and to find me a new "old" bed. The nurses have already taken up the fight and are combing the halls for a different bed. So tonight, the ever-jumping bed will sleep somewhere very comfortably in the halls of this hospital, but not anywhere close to me.