The Zone

This morning, I was forced to think about zones.

Now, there are certainly many good zones. In fact, most of you have probably heard a coach tell you or another to 'Get Into The Zone!'. When someone is 'In The Zone' they can use this to intensely concentrate on the task at hand.

In California, we have all had to 'Slow for the Cone Zone'. This is good, as it ensures the safety of all the Cal Trans workers that are leaning on their shovels. Plus, cars whizzing by too quickly have a tendency to wake them up, so we have all decided together to slow. My apologies to all the hard-working Cal Trans workers out there. I didn't mean to cast a bad light on both of you.

This morning, Rachael forced me to consider yet another zone.

The Rachael Zone.

Now, my morning routine is somewhat systematic. I wake, take a shower, do my hair, shave, use my Q-Tips, put on my deodorant, and then use the bathroom. I have developed this system, as I have timed other variations, and this one seems to be the most efficient. Anyway, this morning I was using my Q-Tips right as Rachael came in the bathroom and went about doing her important business. With quick calculations, I figured it would only be approximately 28.6 seconds until I was done with my Q-Tips and deodorant and would need to use the bathroom myself. I figured I'd be OK. Rachael would be finishing right as I was ready. My routine would be sacrosanct.

Then I glanced over at Rachael.

She was on the throne and in a zone.

Now zones are not necessarily an unusual thing for Rachael. She tends to find herself in one at least once a week, or day, or sometimes once an hour. Sometimes more often than that.

I can count on at least 2-3 zones each time we drive for a half an hour or so. Typically at dinner, I have to wake her up from her zone at least once.

And sometimes, we'll be having a conversation and the next thing I know Rachael is gone. I've timed it and she usually leaves us when she sits still for 22 seconds or more. This is a rough estimate and it can be heavily influenced by the amount of sleep she had the night before.

So, anyway, here I am putting on my deodorant. I look over at Rachael to see if she's finishing up. I see the classic tell-all signs of the Rachael Zone. I go through my checklist just to be sure.

Vacant eyes?
Check.

Slack Jaw?
Check.

Transfixed Gaze?
Check.

Utter oblivion.
Check and Double Check.

Right about now I know it's going to be necessary to do a serious intervention or plan on using another bathroom.

I opted for the intervention.

"Hon?"

Now, if you've never seen Rachael return from a zone, it really is a sight to behold. It seems that her consciousness returns from somewhere deep inside her. Her whole body shakes. Well, it's not so much a shake as it is a jerk, like someone does when they've been startled. A bewildered look comes across her face. She looks around with a look that says 'Where in the world am I and How did I get here?' The dawn of recognition then begins.


"Should I use the other bathroom?"

"No, I'm all done. I've been done."

"Ok. Just wanted to be sure."


One day, under similar circumstances, I decided to see just how long Rachael would remain in her Throne Zone. I calmly left the bathroom, used the other one, got dressed, and left for work.

Imagine my surprise when I returned home that night.

The kids were running and screaming all through the house.
There were cereal and lunch remains left on the table and all around the table on the floor.
The couch cushions were strewn about the living room.




So far, everything seemed pretty normal.

But then I went to use the bathroom....

Rachael was still there. She looked exactly the same as when I left her, except that her legs were even whiter than before. They were a ghost white. A porcelain white. An alabaster white. A white that said, "We have not received any blood for 10 1/2 hours. We are not only asleep. We are comatose."

Apparently, the toilet seat had cut off the circulation to her legs.

"Honey, are you OK?"

Rachael's body shook, her head turned, she seemed to wake up, and then she said, "Oh, are you leaving for work now?"


Being the kind and compassionate husband I am, I used the opportunity to pat Rachael on the knee once ever 30 seconds or so. That seemed to somehow enhance the tingles that were cascading up and down the nerves of Rachael's legs as the blood was trying to figure out which of the unused vessels to once again begin using. I was really curious to see how long it takes to completely restore proper circulation, so I continued this educational activity for about 15 minutes. After that, it seemed that all was well.

The funniest thing of all was the reaction I received each time I patted her again. She did not get angry as I had expected she might.

Her body shook.

Her head turned.

She looked around.

"Where am I?"




****Integrity Alert- This entire story is completely true up to the part where I left Rachael all day. That is just a good old-fashioned lie, designed to make you laugh. I hope it worked.

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