Blossom tilted her head sideways. "Are you okay?" she asked carefully.
"Nothing a short nap won't fix." Assuming I could fall asleep.
"Manuel told me that you suffer from insomnia?"
Great, my son was telling all my business during pillow talk.
"I'm sure it's an easy fix," I said, downplaying the problem. "I made an appointment with a specialist to find out what's going on." Hopefully, they'd give me a prescription to help.
"Maybe you don't need a doctor." Blossom turned toward her mother, an unspoken question in her eyes.
Tallulah shifted from one foot to the other, decidedly uneasy. "I'm sure Jamison is not interested in hearing about any of my ideas."
"You have a solution for insomnia?" I asked, interested despite myself.
"My mother has helpeda lotof people with her herbal and nontraditional remedies," Blossom said.
"I wouldn't say a lot," Tallulah hedged.
"Thousands. Tens of thousands, I'm sure," her daughter insisted.
Tallulah shot her aBe quietglare, but Blossom wasn't paying attention. I didn't have much confidence in non-traditional solutions. Yes, I took vitamins and believed eating good food wasimportant for good health, but I also believed there were a lot of quacks running around taking people's money and pretending their holistic potions were better than traditional medicine.
"Mom, you probably have something that could help him, right?"
"Jamison said he's going to see a specialist. I'm sure he?—"
"I'm interested, actually."
I couldn't believe those words had left my mouth. Neither could Tallulah, apparently, if her raised eyebrows were any indication. Maybe I was more desperate than I wanted to admit. My primary care physician had referred me to a sleep specialist, but my appointment was six weeks away. I had no intention of canceling my appointment, but it couldn't hurt to try something in the meantime. As long as whatever she had in mind wasn't too out of the ordinary, like drinking soup made of bat's wings or sheep's balls.
"I'm not a doctor, but I might be able to help. How long have you been suffering from lack of sleep?" Tallulah asked with what seemed like genuine concern.
"Almost six months," I answered.
"A long time."
Next thing I knew, I was having a consultation in the parking lot. Tallulah asked me a series of questions, and I answered as if I were sitting in a doctor's office. Actually, I don't think a doctor has ever shown as much interest in digging into the source of my problem the way she was. Usually, they made me feel like a number instead of a person, shuttling me in and out as quickly as possible.
I don't know if I really believed Tallulah could help, but I appreciated her interest, and her questions forced me to analyze my situation in a way I hadn't before.
"I have a couple of suggestions," she said at the end of the consultation. "First, don't use your electronic devices right before you plan to go to sleep. Phone, iPad, none of them."
My disappointment in her recommendation must have shown on my face because she pursed her lips.
"Do you want to get better sleep?" she asked.
"I do," I said.
"Try what I'm saying for a couple of weeks and see if there's an improvement. As I was saying, don't use your electronic devices right before going to sleep. The blue light they emit reduces the body's natural production of melatonin, which helps us feel sleepy."
"How long before bed should I stop using my electronics?" I asked, bracing for the worst.
"Start with an hour."
"An hour!" I exclaimed.
"Mom never let me use my phone in bed as a kid, and I do the same now and sleep like a baby every night," Blossom said.
