It was only for one night.  I took Carol to the lab which happens to be directly under her Nail Salon.  That was at eight p.m. last night and I picked her up at six this morning.  I think she may have slept better than I did. She was in this lab, which is more like a better quality hotel room, to have her breathing evaluated while sleeping.  I was not invited except to bring her there and back.  We have just finished breakfasting in an all-night eatery, Flashback Diner, and are getting her unpacked and ready for the day although it did begin early for both of us.

Carol was hooked up to many sensors and ultimately to a mask and was left alone except for putting on the mask and reports that she slept pretty well but would have liked not to have been awakened so early in the morning. The night spent there is supposed to check the efficiency of her breathing apparatus during sleep.  The whole process was efficient and seemed to be professionally equipped for more than the two persons observed last night.  The other person was a man and he left the toilet seat up.

But, reporting that Carol had a procedure that is a follow up on other tests and prelude to a  CT chest scan to find if she has a reason for a breathing insufficiency - is not the main import of this essay.  This essay is about the emptiness of our nest when one of the two occupants is missing.

Carol was cooperating with the technician who set up her test and trying to be good and not foul up any of the results.  I tried to ignore the fact that she was not on the other side of our bed.  The empty nest syndrome hit home many years after the kids had all grown up, moved away and had kids of their own.  It is an awakening; this trying to sleep at night when you have a lot on your mind.

I cleaned up the dishwasher, put away all the cleaned silverware and dishes and made the bed this morning.  But, I didn't go right to sleep last night because something was not quite right - something was missing.  I had those old empty nest blues. I spontaneously awoke at a few minutes past five this morning.

We each have our own space.  This mainly revolves around the television.  We enjoy different shows and she looks at hers in the bedroom mainly from the relax-the-back chair opposite the picture screen.  I like to read without the noise of the television so I lean back in my own chair in "the office" where I have access to the computer.  But, with the nest empty, the whole house has a different feel and the quality of life changes from one of completeness to - something important is missing.