For the better part of seven years, I’ve been fiercely committed to prioritizing sleep. I’m sure I’ve written about it before—probably more than once. But since my cancer diagnosis, emergency brain surgery, and ongoing treatment, this commitment has only grown stronger.

Maybe that’s why, just a few weeks after surgery, I completely lost my taste for coffee and caffeine. It’s strange, but it feels right.

These days, my routine is simple and steady: I’m in bed by 7 or 7:30 p.m., and I stay there until Zara nudges me awake somewhere between 5 and 6:30 a.m. for our morning walk.

We head out for a brisk mile or two through the neighborhood. Then it’s back home to get Briggs up and ready for school. Breakfast is usually egg sandwiches and hashbrowns (always with plenty of orange juice), followed by settling into the day’s work.

I’ll admit, I can’t recall going to bed this early since I was a kid. But I’m not mad about it. The deep sleep has been restorative in ways I didn’t expect. It leaves me feeling ready for the morning walks, for the day ahead, for the life I’m building now..

It feels natural to let my head hit the pillow when the moon is up and the world is dark.

Don’t get me wrong—I don’t love every piece of this now normal. There’s plenty I’d trade. But this part—this deep, healing sleep—is part of the good stuff. I’ll gladly take it…I’m grateful for it.

Sleep tight.

That’s me and Q (one of three on my canine nurse team) – he’s a top snuggler.