I have tinnitus. Some folks have it bad, but it’s mild in my case. A faint, high-pitched ringing in the ears, is all; mostly I don’t even notice it, except when it’s completely quiet. I sleep with a fan on, so it’s never completely quiet. No big deal.

I’ve slept with a fan on since I was in high school. Right now it’s the HEPA filter; during the winter it’s the humidifier. When it gets really hot it’ll be the air conditioner. Doesn’t matter, as long as it’s broad-spectrum. Sometimes when fans get old they’ll start to heterodyne, and you can hear a kind of thrumming pattern in the noise as it comes in and out of phase. That keeps me awake; time to get a new fan.

Now, it’s well documented that white noise can produce auditory hallucinations. So can sleep deprivation. Put them both together and that spells trouble. When Nate was born, of course we had a baby monitor. Those first few months, the sleep deprivation was hell on earth. He’d wake up hungry or wet every two or three hours. After a couple of weeks, I was so desperate for sleep, so afraid that he was going to wake up, that I would listen to the fan and hear him screaming all the time, even when he was sound asleep. I eventually trained myself to control the hallucinations, kind of like lucid dreaming. If I could make the scream hold the same pitch and volume for ten seconds without taking a breath, there was a good chance it wasn’t really Nate and I could go back to sleep.

Recently, I had my buddy Tom replace my bathroom ceiling and exhaust fan, which is a story in itself. He demonstrated the new fan for me. “WHISPER QUIET, MY ASS,” he yelled. “I’D HATE TO SEE THE NEXT LOUDEST MODEL.”

Last Sunday, you may recall, was Mother’s Day. As I’m sure you can imagine, it was a rough weekend. Nate’s classmates made Mother’s Day cards for all their moms, but Nate made one for me instead. I couldn’t really look at it without crying. He sensed that I was fragile, and true to form for three and a half, he moved in for the kill. I thought it was bad when he tried to throw his Apple Cinnamon oatmeal on the floor, but it only got worse from there. I was ready to fashion a size 4T straitjacket out of gaffer’s tape just to get ten seconds of peace. I would set him up with a video and go upstairs to pee; the moment I shut the bathroom door, he’d start calling me. “Daaaaaaddy… daaaaaaddy…” He just couldn’t leave me alone.

I finally got him to go down for a nap on Sunday afternoon, and I decided I would take a long, hot shower to try to work some of the knots out of my neck and shoulders. I cranked up the WHISPER QUIET exhaust fan and turned on the water, half expecting Nate to wake up and demand my attention. When he stayed asleep, I gave a little prayer of thanks to Morpheus. I stayed in the shower for half an hour and used all the hot water. It was lovely.

When I got out of the shower, I looked in the mirror, and thought, damn it, Sarah. You should be here. Never mind Mother’s Day; it is so your turn to watch him.

And clear as life, through the sound of the fan, I heard the front door open, and Sarah’s voice call, “Marco!”

I burst into tears. Polo, honey. Here I am.

She sounded so happy.