"What do you do at night? Do you still have to
manage your saliva?"
That’s a question I’ve been asked before, and the short
answer is: yes.
Just because I lay down and close my eyes doesn’t mean the
saliva issues I deal with during the day suddenly disappear. They don’t. The
need to spit doesn’t clock out when I do.
Ever since my time in the hospital and getting a G-tube, my
sleep habits have changed. I used to sleep on my stomach, but now that’s no
longer an option. For some reason, I always end up falling asleep on my right
side, even if I don’t start there. That’s just what my body prefers now.
The good news is that I don’t have trouble falling asleep—never
really have. But that doesn’t mean I sleep through the night uninterrupted.
Waking and Spitting: The New Normal
I often wake up during the night and use my cup to
spit out excess saliva. Sometimes I wonder if that’s the reason I woke up—or if
something else stirred me. There’s no way to know for sure. Either way, the
need is there, and I take care of it.
There have been a few rare nights when I slept a
solid four to six hours straight—and when that happens, I’m thrilled. It
feels amazing. But most nights, I’m up at least once or twice. Thankfully, I
don’t usually have a hard time getting back to sleep.
Early Rising, Always
No matter what kind of night I’ve had, I almost always wake
up early. If I’m always awake by or before 6:30 a.m., that’s pretty standard for me. If I
somehow sleep past 7, it’s considered impressive. But if I make it to 8 a.m.,
now that’s rare—and I mean rare.
On the rare occasion I make it to 8:00 a.m., my mom has
actually come to check on me, just to make sure I’m still breathing. That’s
how uncommon it is. It’s not meant to be dramatic—it’s just a funny truth about
how in-tune my family is with my routine.
The Patch Factor
One thing that does affect my saliva level is what day
I’m on with my scopolamine patch. (mentioned more in-depth in previous posts) Whether it’s day 1, 2, or 3 makes a difference in how
much saliva I produce. I’ve learned to recognize those patterns and plan around
them—because when you live with something daily, you become a quiet expert in
how your body behaves.
What My Nighttime Routine Really Looks Like
One question people might wonder is: Do you choke while
sleeping? And the answer is—thankfully—no. I don’t need to be
propped up on pillows or sleep in a recliner. I can lie flat just like anyone
else.
That said, I do have to be careful with when I eat my
last meal. Because of some acid reflux issues, I try to wait at
least an hour or two before lying down. If I don’t, there's a chance the
liquid food could come back up—especially if I cough while spitting. It’s not
something I like to dwell on, but it’s part of the reality. Sometimes when I
clear my throat or cough a little to get the saliva out, that effort can
pull liquid back up, and that’s definitely no fun.
My nighttime setup isn’t complicated. I don’t have special
bedding or fancy tools. When I was in the hospital and had zero control over my
saliva or nasal drainage, they used to place a washcloth on my shoulder
to catch the excess liquid. But I’ve come a long way from that.
Today, the only thing I keep nearby at night is a white
Styrofoam cup with a paper towel tucked inside—the same setup I use during
the day. It sits on my nightstand within reach, and that’s all I need to manage
my saliva until the morning.
Whether I’m Home or Away
If I’m traveling—whether it’s vacation or just staying at
someone else’s house—nothing really changes. I don’t need a lot of
special prep. I just make sure I have a fresh cup ready before bed, and
that’s it. That one cup usually lasts me through the whole night, all the way
until breakfast the next day.
With a little planning, I can rest just about anywhere.
Do I Still Dream?
Yes, I do still dream. I’ve never been someone who dreams a
lot, but I do have them from time to time. The G-tube or saliva management
doesn’t interfere with that. And thankfully, the waking moments I do have
during the night don’t rob me of peace.
“I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep: for thou,
Lord, only makest me dwell in safety.” Psalm 4:8
Saliva and Spiritual Spaces
One area where I’ve become especially aware of my saliva
management is during public worship and prayer time at church. While
I don’t usually feel self-conscious about it in day-to-day life, there’s
something about being in a sacred space, around others, that can make me feel a
little more guarded.
I’ve found that I sometimes hold back during worship,
not because I don’t want to praise freely, but because I’m concerned about how
things might look if I appear messy or if someone notices me spitting. It’s not
about shame—it’s about wanting to maintain reverence while also navigating
something practical and very human.
But I’m working on that.
Because the truth is, God already knows. He knows my
needs, my process, my heart. And if I’m going to worship Him in spirit and in
truth, I have to let go of what people might think and focus instead on
what He sees—and He sees surrender, not embarrassment.
“For man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord
looketh on the heart.” 1 Samuel 16:7
“Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the
glory of God.” 1 Corinthians 10:31
Managing saliva isn’t something I love talking about—but
it’s real, and it’s part of my life. I hope by sharing these details, you can
see that God’s grace reaches even the parts of life that feel uncomfortable or
unspoken.
Healing looks different for everyone. For me, it’s been
slow, practical, and deeply spiritual. And if you’re walking through something
similar, please know: you’re not alone.
“He knoweth our frame; he remembereth that we are dust.”
Psalm 103:14
I’d Love to Hear from You
Have you had to adapt your nighttime routine for a health
reason? Do you sometimes feel like you hold back in worship due to a visible
struggle?
Feel free to share in the comments, message me privately, or
just know I’m praying for you. Your journey matters.
16-year Anniversary: July, 24, 2009
As I share this, I can’t help but remember that sixteen
years have passed since the wreck. Sixteen years of surgeries, stretching
seasons, unexpected turns, and silent prayers. Some nights I lay down and
wonder, Lord, is this really all the farther I’ve come? But then other
nights, I feel a holy hush settle over me—and I realize just how far His grace
has carried me.
I think about all I’ve lost—physical ease, old dreams, plans
I once held tightly. But then I remember all I’ve gained: faith that’s been
fire-tested, compassion born from pain, and a closeness with God I never would
have known without the breaking.
Healing hasn’t been flashy or fast. It’s been quiet, sacred,
and sometimes invisible. But it’s real. And on this anniversary, I don’t just
thank God for the distance I’ve come—I thank Him for every moment He’s never
let go of my hand.
“And I will restore to you the years that the locust hath
eaten...” Joel 2:25a
Father,
For the one reading this who’s carrying quiet pain or
unspoken struggles, I ask for Your peace to wrap around them tonight. Remind
them that they are not alone—that You are near to the brokenhearted and
acquainted with every detail of their journey.
For every loss, let there be unexpected gain. For every
sleepless night, let there be a whisper of Your presence. For every change that
feels hard, let there be grace that feels deeper.
Lord, restore what the years have taken. Renew what has
grown weary. And let Your glory shine through the cracks of our stories.
Thank You for being the God who stays—not just in the
daylight, but in the long, silent nights.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Be encouraged. 🧡
No comments:
Post a Comment