We Can’t Take Another Night Like This, Captain

Such a stupid quote to be stuck in my head for 17 years. It’s from the pilot episode of Stargate SG-1 — one of those overly serious moments where a special forces airman, clearly trained to handle just about anything, declares “we can’t take another night like this, Captain!” because… it’s a bit chilly in the tent. No snow. No ice. Just nippy.

It was dramatic then, and it’s dramatic now, which is probably why it pops into my head several times a week as George and I stumble into the morning after another long night.

Last night, for instance, we slept from 10pm to 1am. That’s it. But weirdly, this wasn’t one of those nights. It was calm, settled, and while I couldn’t sleep again after, I at least managed to rest. My body got to power down a bit, even if the mind didn’t. It’s only 8am as I’m writing this, check back at 6pm and I may be less philosophical, but right now, I feel… okay.

Some nights are a different story altogether. They come loaded with so much energy and manic activity that I’m done before the day even begins. Imagine doing an eight-hour one-to-one care shift with a young man who has tremendously challenging needs, then clocking straight into another 12 to 15 hours shift as we now have the actual day ahead of us. That’s life here sometimes, just relentless momentum.

So when I get a night like last night, not long, not perfect, but quiet and restorative in its own way, it’s a gift. In a normal week, I’ll get four awful nights, two good ones (and by “good” I mean we make it past 4am; the bar is on the floor), and maybe one like this, short but peaceful.

The funny thing is, the good nights don’t necessarily make the next day easier. If George sleeps well, bedtime the next evening is usually chaos. He’s recharged and ready for round two while I’m just clinging to the ropes. But today, after a rare calm one, I actually feel positive.

This isn’t a promotional post. There’s no clever app to fix it all (believe me, I’d build it if there were). It’s just a small window into our world, one that’s sometimes messy, often exhausting, but also full of strange little victories.

Take care,

Anthony