The things I get done while sleepwalking

I've reached a new (and perhaps frightening) level of productivity.

Last night I went a'sleepwalking. It's something I did quite a bit as a kid and still do as an adult on occasion. I've been known to carry on long conversations with people, brush my teeth, walk off into the woods, gets dressed for work, and even eat a bowl of cereal, all while sleepwalking.

About ten years ago, I was sleepwalking when the veterinarian called us in the middle of the night to inform us that my dog, Kaleigh, who they were holding for observation, was not constipated as he had thought. A disc in her back had ruptured, requiring emergency surgery. I approved the $9,000 procedure that had a 50/50 chance of survival and a 50/50 chance that she would never walk again on her own. 

I was asleep during the entire phone call and have no recollection of it. I made important medical decisions and spent large sums on money while I was asleep. I did not find out that my dog had been in surgery until the vet called me the next morning to tell me that Kaleigh had survived the first of two parts of the surgery.  

It was quite a confusing phone call, as you might imagine. 

Last night I went a'sleepwalking. I only know this because on my way back to bed I tripped on some clutter near the stairs, hit my head, and awoke. I was surprised to find myself in the living room, but I was even more surprised this morning to find that I had worked on my next book while sleepwalking. The document was open on my laptop, and words that I have no recollection of writing were staring back at me.

About 500 words in all.

They don't actually fit the chapter that I am working on but are the perfect lead for a chapter two or three away. 

I'm not sure how long it took me to write those words, and I'm not sure if sleepwalking counts as quality rest, but it was remarkable to discover that I had accomplished so much while theoretically resting. 

I'm going to try to do it again tonight, which is to say I'm going to tell myself to do it again and see what happens.  

This could be my new thing.

I spent $15,000 while I was sleepwalking.

Last night, I climbed out of bed, brushed my teeth and got dressed for work, I carried the dog downstairs and was preparing my children's breakfast when I woke up, looked at the clock, and saw that it was 12:30 AM.

I had been asleep for a little over an hour. 

I was sleepwalking. 

I don't sleepwalk often, but it happens from time to time. When I was a boy, I was a prolific sleepwalker. I would carry on lengthy conversations with my parents and siblings while I was asleep.

I would climb out of my tent on camping trips with the Boy Scouts and wander into the woods, only to wake up somewhere in the dark, uncertain of where I was. I would have to sit down at the base of the tree and wait for sunrise before I could find my way back to camp.

When I was 19 years-old and living on my own, I would often wake up behind the wheel of my car in the middle of the night, fully dressed for work but without the keys to start the car.

I've awoken doing all sorts of things, including folding laundry, watching television, and even writing. 

But my most memorable sleepwalking incident happened about ten years ago. I brought my dog, Kaleigh, to the vet for what appeared to be some internal pain. The vet diagnosed her problem as gas and possible constipation and decided to keep her overnight for observation.

Around 2:00 AM, the vet called and informed me that one of the discs in Kaleigh's spine had ruptured. I needed to make a decision.

The veterinary surgeon could attempt emergency spinal surgery, but the chances of Kaleigh surviving were less than 50 percent. Even if she survived the surgery, it was very likely that her hind legs would never work again. She would be relegated to a doggie wheelchair for the rest of her life, and I would need to manually remove all waste from her body via a catheter three times a day.

The surgery would cost about $15,000, which was all of the money I had saved from my online poker playing to pay for our upcoming honeymoon to Bermuda. 

I said yes. Do the surgery.

I have no recollection of that call or the conversation I had with Elysha regarding the decision. I was sleepwalking the entire time.

The next morning, while preparing for the school day in my classroom, the vet called and informed me that Kaleigh had survived the surgery. I told the vet that he had called the wrong owner. My dog had gas.

"No," he said. "Kaleigh ruptured a disc. We spoke last night."

"No," I repeated. "You have the wrong pet. My dog stayed overnight for gas and constipation."

Eventually, the vet convinced me that he was talking about the right dog, so I hung up the phone, raced up to Elysha's classroom at the end of the hall, and asked her what the hell was going on. She explained the phone call, the decision, the cost, and the chances of recovery.

As I listened to her describe the night's events, I realized that I had been sleeping walking through the entire phone call.

I spent $15,000 while I was asleep. 

Happily, things turned out well. My poker earnings paid for the surgery, and we dipped into our meager savings to go on our honeymoon.

Kaleigh recovered. Though the doctor doubted that her hind legs would ever work again, we brought her home after a week, and when I put her down on the floor, she immediately rose onto all four legs for the first time since the surgery and hobbled across the room to the spot where she liked to sleep.

Elysha and I wept.

It was a long road to recovery which included placing our mattress on the floor and enclosing it in a cage for three months to prevent Kaleigh from hopping up and down off the bed. She was never as agile as she once was, she can't negotiate stairs on her own, and there are days when her back causes her discomfort, but she'll be 15 years old in April and doing just fine for a very old lady.

Thankfully, I made a damn good decision while I was asleep. 

I am capable of making serious financial and medical decisions while I am sleepwalking. That, my friends, is productivity.

From the National Sleep Foundation’s website on sleepwalking:

It is a misconception, though, that it is important to not wake up a sleepwalker. In fact, it could be quite dangerous if you don’t wake them up. Sleepwalkers do things from sitting up in bed and look around to walking out of their home and driving their car for long distances.

For many years I was a sleepwalker, and I have still been known to do it from time to time.

As a boy, I would most often sleepwalk when I was not in my own bed, which made for some harrowing adventures when camping with the Boy Scouts. On two occasions, I managed to sleepwalk right out of camp. The first time I was at summer camp, so although I awoke deep in the woods, I was able to see lights from a dining hall in the distance and eventually found my way back to camp.

On another occasion, we were backpacking in the White Mountains when I walked out of camp in the middle of the night. When I awoke, I found myself in the pitch black of a New Hampshire forest, so I did what I had been taught to do. I sat down at the base of a tree and waited for sunrise, at which point I began calling for help. I was far enough away from camp that my calls went unheard, but when my friends realized that I was gone, a search was organized and I was quickly found.

Still unnerving to say the least.

About seven years ago I answered a phone call in the middle of the night without actually waking. Our dog had been dropped off at the veterinarian's office for an overnight stay for what the vet had diagnosed as severe constipation. It turned out to be a ruptured disk in her back. The vet called around 3:00 AM to ask permission to begin emergency surgery. He explained that it would be exceptionally expensive (more than the cost of our upcoming honeymoon to Bermuda) and Kaleigh only had a 50% chance of survival and only a 25% chance of ever using her hind legs again. I relayed all this information to my wife, discussed it with her, made a decision, and instructed the vet to commence the surgery. Then I went back to bed, completely unaware of what had happened.

I left the house the following morning for work before my wife woke up. About 15 minutes before students would begin filing into my classroom, I received a call from the veterinarian informing me that Kaleigh had survived the surgery but the use of her hind legs were still in question.

I told the vet that he must be calling the wrong pet owner. “My dog,” I explained, “was constipated. That’s all.”

A five minute back-and-forth exchange began, with me becoming more and more upset and angry by the second. I insisted that there has been no middle-of-the-night phone call and worried that he had operated on the wrong dog. Fortunately, my wife arrived at school just as things were starting to get heated and confirmed that what the vet was saying was true. 

A week later my dog came home, and after a long recovery period, I’m happy to say that she is walking today just fine.

Sleepwalking is one thing.

Making life-and-death decisions that cost thousands of dollars while you’re still asleep is another.

When my wife awakens me in the middle of the night now for any reason, so often asks me more than once if I am actually awake, and with good reason. 

The National Sleep Foundation is correct:

“It is a misconception that it is important to not wake up a sleepwalker. In fact, it could be quite dangerous if you don’t wake them up.”