Yspelocran And Its Discontents
Posted by Erik Rupard on July 21st, 2008
Unbelievable as it is to me, it is true: as of this writing, I have only three Sundays left in Iraq. Exactly five weeks from this moment, I will be at Ft. Benning, GA, reunited with my sweetheart Lorri, completing the CRC redeployment process. Yet, as I watch the days tick down on my little desktop counter thingie, that date seems a long long way off, and I can’t quite feel it. That may be a good thing at this point; I’m guessing that once I am close enough that I can almost taste the clean, dust and/or diesel-free air, the seconds will start to drag a bit. Right now, I am still (mostly) enjoying the ride.
This week’s Saturday-to-Sunday routine was fairly typical. On Saturday night, my neighbors and I had our usual get-together, in this case to watch Band of Brothers just outside of our cans on CPT Baker’s ridiculously oversized big-screen laptop. After two episodes, a few of us hopped into Barney and headed to the DFAC for “midnight rats,” the half-dinner-half-breakfast meal served for those workers who can’t get to the regular meals because of work. I had a nice omelet, a couple of waffles, and grabbed some cereal for Sunday morning. Back home around 11:30, at which point I caught the remainder of the (crummy) Red Sox game versus the Angels on AFN. I usually stay up late on Saturday nights, because I don’t have to be anywhere on Sunday until 1 PM (first church meeting of the day). So, on Sunday morning, I attempted to catch up on my sleep.
I choose my words carefully here, because the reality is that, though I attempt to sleep late every single Sunday, I rarely succeed. This failure is, in itself, remarkable, as it is truly difficult to conceive of a more sleep-friendly scenario than mine on Saturday nights in Al Asad. To wit:
- I have no work to get to in the morning, since I’m generally off on Sundays.
- My family is out and about doing their own Saturday stuff thousands of miles away, and they generally do not call me after 11 PM (often, due to my spotty internet access, physically cannot do so). I’m like a doctor without a pager.
- I stay up late on Saturday nights, surfing the net, watching Saturday-afternoon baseball, blogging, etcetera, which means that I should be very tired by the time I hit the hay.
- I eat breakfast at midnight, stuffing myself to the gills with high-protein foods. (Mmm, L-tryptophan.)
- I have a small personal living area with entirely user-modifiable temperatures, and a nice, cozy bed, inside a hermetically-sealed plastic container. It is like I am in a sensory deprivation tank. Eerily like that, in fact.
- I am “The Major,” so none of my co-workers dare to knock on my door, barring emergencies. (This is not because I am mean; it’s just how my very professional soldiers have always treated me.)
- There is not much else to do except sleep.
In spite of all of this, my attempts to crash past about 0730 have generally been unsuccessful. I have diligently attempted to ascertain the reasons for this, so that I can eliminate them. One possible explanation was that I am awakened and stripped of melatonin by the very bright light that comes shining into my window starting at around 0430 (Iraq does not follow daylight savings time). I have eliminated this as a possibility by hanging my thick green army blanket over the window on Saturday night. Didn’t help.
Another possibility is the noise. I do, in fact, live not only near, but actually inside the confines of the airport. Planes, helicopters, and strange creatures which are combinations of the two (true story, that) constantly fly over my tin can, rattling the walls in attempt to find the harmonic frequency and bust me open like Joshua at Jericho. This kept me up a bit initially, but now I hardly notice it; the machinery sounds are simply a part of the aural landscape, and they block out the Halo sounds next door. At this point, I’m pretty well convinced that when I finally get home, in order to get any rest I’ll probably have to go and buy one of those “soundscapes” alarm clocks, but one with a “Combat” setting (perhaps right in between “Ocean” and “Rainforest”). So, I don’t think it’s the noise.
So what gives?
Unfortunately, I and many (all?) of my family members are blighted with the “Rupard Curse.” This is a multi-functional curse, including (but not limited to) the following items:
- Male members get receding hairlines at an astonishingly early age. Want proof? Check out my yearbook picture. My high school yearbook picture.
- Multiple chins, again at an early age, and even when the rest of the body is at ideal weight.
- The “John Travolta” syndrome, in which approximately five-sixths of all weight gained at any given time goes directly to the noggin. Rupard men all have big heads, but when we get a bit overweight, they become medium-sized planetoids. I swear, some of my med school pix look like I had just moments before discovered my latent peanut allergy. (By the way, this is also known as the “Barry Bonds Phenomenon.”)
- Proctalgia fugax. I’m not even gonna tell you what this is, or link to it; you’ll just have to look it up yourself. (If you don’t have it, you won’t understand it.)
- A retentiveness which (let’s face it, compadres), occasionally crosses that fine line into the nether reaches of OCD.
- And finally, the raison d’etre of this particular digression: Rupardian Insomnia. This is not quite like regular insomnia, in which the poor sucker has to wade through two post-Letterman infomercials before finally dropping off to abbreviated-but-productive sleep. The Rupardian variant renders the protagonist willing and often able to fall asleep, but unable to remain out for more than about 45 minutes at a time. He/she is constantly waking up, looking at the alarm clock (”Crap! Only 2:45″), and laying there in the dark for 5 to 500 minutes or so, before eventually drifting back to sleep for another 45 minutes. I like to think of this as “Reverse Narcolepsy” and I have been suffering for years, as have all of the rest of us. It wasn’t until I was married and able to enviously watch my wife as she slept, on-and-on, with no alarm-clock-checks and no full-body-pillow-reshufflings, that I figured out my sleep behavior was not that of a normal hunam being.
So, I conclude that my inability to sleep beyond 7:30 is multifactorial, with my sleep genetics being the primary culprit. Ah well, at least I’m good looking…
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Rupard Mailbag
About two weeks ago, I sent a true desperado of an e-mail to mom and dad, asking for a few items which were completely, entirely NOT essential, but which would make my time here a wee bit nicer. They responded, as they always do, by sending not one, but two packages just a few short days later. Unfortunately, when the United States Army and the United States Postal Service meet, as they do here in Iraq, the vaunted efficiency of both organizations dwindles just a bit.
So, although my parents sent the two packages quite literally at the same time, I received one last Saturday the 12th (included baby wipes, almond butter, Propel flavor packets, and the all-important Jelly Bellies), and spent the rest of the week expecting but not receiving package #2. After Monday and Tuesday passed, my hopes dropped a bit, and by Friday, I had given #2 up for lost. On Saturday, however, SGT Hert gave me hope when he told me that his wife’s boxes regularly got delivered a week or more apart from one another, and yesterday (Sunday), SPC Penkert knocked on my door and delivered said package #2 (more almond butter, much-needed black socks, more flavor packets, more baby wipes). Thanks very much, LymeRupards!
This bodes well for my post-office-happiness this week, as I am expecting a couple of packages from my sweet wife, who has an uncanny knack for sending me exactly what I need.
July 21st, 2008 at 3:04 pm
Drat. I was hoping to see that you’d gotten the package I sent exactly a month and a day ago. It had some biscotti in it, but most importantly a couple bottles of Dwelle so you could try and tackle that dust. It serves me right to have a package disappear after I ragged on the USPS in a recent “comment” here.
Sorry to know about that, uh, Proctalgia fugax. You have my sympathies.
Diana
July 21st, 2008 at 3:47 pm
Diana,
I am an idiot.
I did indeed get your package, and have been using the Dwelle for weeks, and I could have sworn that I sent you a thank-you e-mail, or regular letter, and mentioned you in my Rupard mailbag, but a search of my blog (and my Outbox) reveals to me that I did none of the above. Please accept my apologies.
The biscotti quite literally lasted one afternoon before my colleagues polished it off (with my help), and the Dwelle Eyedrops have been a godsend. Our 1st Lieutenant, whom I recently started on Restasis, got the second bottle of Dwelle, and is a new fan of the stuff.
So, belatedly, thanks again for your kindness. The blame for this particular oversight is on me, not the USPS.
Erik
July 21st, 2008 at 6:06 pm
Erik,
You are no idiot, my friend. The best news I could receive on this was that you got the eye drops and shared them with a dry-eyed friend.
As for the biscotti, I might be the idiot. While I maintain that they ship well to warm climates, it had occurred to me that you are not likely drinking coffee or anything that resembles it in that heat. They might not wash down as well with artificially sweetened unfit-for-human-consumption leukemia water.
Diana
July 21st, 2008 at 7:48 pm
Erik,
when you mentioned the genetics of poor sleep, I immediately thought of “that pain in the butt thing that we all get”. At least that is what Beckles and I call it, and it is easier to say than your proctalgia fugax. ‘
“butt”, I assume that is to what you are referring. I wonder if Barry gets it? something to muse on. Happy birthday to Ellen, by the way, Hope all went nicely for her on her big day. No connection to the aforementioned condition, by the way!
You will be getting lots of packages beginning next week. the YW are getting the whole ward involved. It is fun. Everyone is excited to be involved in this activity.
I can’t believe that you will be home that soon. We are over the moon about it and can’t wait to see you.
Diana, thanks for sending my brother and his band of brothers and sisters, stuff. It is so kind of you and you will be blessed for your goodness. I love my brother, and anyone who cares enough to go get a box, fill it with homemade stuff, and send it, is number one in my book. thank you from the bottom of every Rupard in our goofy groups’ heart.
Erik, it was great chatting with you on Saturday, and I can’t wait to chat with you in person, after I give you a big smacker on that giant bald head of yours.
Love love love, Mit
July 21st, 2008 at 9:58 pm
I have made a conclusion about myself thanks to this article (Which by the way was extremely humorous)
In mind I am a rupard
In body I am a vodi
In spirit….I’m a mutt of the two. =]
July 21st, 2008 at 10:02 pm
oh yeah and narcolepsy is yspelocran backwards. took me about five seconds. in mind i’m a rupard.
July 21st, 2008 at 10:11 pm
Melissa,
You are welcome! It’s been a pleasure keeping up with the blog and seeing the strong relationships among the Rupard family. And it has been an honor to send goodies your brother’s way. He lent me a bit of support a few years ago, as well.
I’m so glad you’ll all be getting him back soon safe and sound.
Diana
July 22nd, 2008 at 2:29 am
I LOVE leaving strange diseases, syndromes, and problems on the answering machine at the Junior High. Proctalgia Fugax just made my top 10! I also like to say “Religious Holiday” since they give me that as an option.
Erik, this blog is really so very, very helpful.
Yeah, one day my friend and I came up with tons of gross illnesses or problems to leave on the voice mail. I am not sure the attendance lady has a good sense of humor. She didn’t find pubic lice, cholera, purulent wounds, or any of the other stuff I can think of as humorous as I do. You KNOW people calla and tell them all about Junior’s recent bout with diarrhea or the sound of his cough. So, I have found a cheap way to entertain myself.
So, this blog is really coming in handy! I am using that! And Maddy’s yspelocran, too!
Lisa
July 22nd, 2008 at 7:45 am
Erik,
I was awake last night (thanks Rupardian insomnia) and wondered if this blog gives just a little TMI about the weaknesses of the Rupard clan. I hope our enemies don’t get a hold of it! Love you, brother. Beckles
July 22nd, 2008 at 8:36 am
I try not to eavesdrop on Erik’s phone consults anymore, as it has an adverse effect on someone like myself (who is easily persuaded into a heightened sense of despair about my health, even the minor transient ailments.)
I’ve learned nothing good comes of alluding to my recent,”post-steurnal pain” during a routine appointment (although…. it might just be the right thing to say to an attendance secretary).
Correction: In spirit Maddy is actually a Shrute.
July 22nd, 2008 at 1:55 pm
Hi, Erik and Maddy,
Maddy - looks like you lucked out. Me, too. I can usually sleep 10 hours with no problem…then take a nap. I, too, caught the narcolepsy in about 30 seconds. Maybe you have a bit of Johnston in you that you just didn’t recognize.
Erik - TMI. Let’s keep things on a NTK basis. Love you, Mom and Gram R.
Mom R.
July 22nd, 2008 at 3:40 pm
Post-steurnal pain! Great addition. What about adding Shrute-like spirit….will that work on the attendance lady?
July 22nd, 2008 at 8:48 pm
Lisa–Actually Erik corrected me during our chat today so I am publicly shamed. It’s Sub-steurnal chest pain. (see what not-enough knowledge/information breeds?) It’s also been awhile since I last experienced it.
Our attendance ladies here in GA are a bit Schrute-ish side themselves; it’s so hard to mess w. them generally!!
July 22nd, 2008 at 9:18 pm
Well, I, for one, think there is something to be said for uniqueness, however described or by whatever name called. Yeah!
July 23rd, 2008 at 5:18 pm
Lorri,
The complaint is substernal as in “behind the sternum” type of chest pain. I think that one would work on any attendance lady. The last thing they want at school is an adolescent having a heart attack!