I bothered my doctor until she sent me off for a sleep study. I mean, I’ve spent much of my life feeling tireder than I should.
Tireder, is that even a thing?
First one involved strapping small electronics to oneself and the clippy thing on the finger and sleeping in one’s own bed.
Moderate sleep apnea is found.
Now they send me off to the Official Sleep Overnight Study where they stick wires all over you and try various CPAPs which look and feel a bit like mutant landlubber scuba gear.
Only more claustrophobic.
And I found scuba gear somewhat claustrophobic, but I managed to manage it so I could go look at the little fishies.
I crash with the Nasal Pillow (a device not at all like a comforting pillow) a bathroom light that turns out to be too glaring, and the surf noise waaaaay too loud.
And a PTSD flashback to last summer when I was hospitalized with the most fabulous case of Crohn’s seen by the eyes of man and spent two weeks in bed watching Animal Planet.
The nice lady adjusts the bathroom light, turns down the surf to a reasonable level, and leaves me to snooze off while watching something about the Great Barrier Reef (one of my holy grails) and sea turtles, several thousand of which descend on a tiny island in the reef to lay eggs. A small red version of our local green herons waits for the hatchlings… because the herons need to feed their babies too.
Gulp, glorp, gobble.
Yep, that’s nice.
I really can’t sleep.
I toss, I turn, I turn the TV off…on…
…only it won’t come on. And I can no longer deal with the nose pillow.
I summon the Night Shift who swap out the CPAP for another and fix the TV I have apparently fried by punching random buttons on the remote while it was pointed the wrong way.
I turn the TV off….on….off…on…
There’s an ad for something about sasquatching…
I toss, turn, tangle the covers into macrame, try a few more models.
Finally I tell the nice lady I really can’t deal with this CPAP thing, and is there anything else they can learn by having me wired and videotaped?
Nope, they just needed to sort out which machine would work…
only the machines don’t. I note that the machines are designed to be as ergonomic as possible, and are quite silent (except for the air whooshing around my face when I change my expression). I just can’t stand them. I also can’t stand any sort of tight clothing, choking strappy things, or covers that are tucked in.
Also my food CANNOT EVER TOUCH! GIVE ME ANOTHER PLATE, NOW!!!!
Many years ago I found myself working one Halloween night at a fast food joint with a handsome young man. One who had a fabulous Dracula accent…
…because he was, in fact, from Transylvania.
Transylvania to Pennsylvania. Yeah yeah, all us Americans know about Romania is Dracula.
The sleep study night shift (all two of them) also had fabulous, similar accents.
The lovely young lady is Bosnian (which apparently is now a wonderful tourist destination, featuring amazing landscapes, historical heritage inherited from six civilizations..oh, and we had the winter Olympics there once, remember? Not sure where the guy was from…
Seriously, I have worked with a number of immigrants, from various corners of the world. They came here for the Dream, opportunity. They are hard working, often taking the jobs those of us who’ve been here longer don’t want, fast food… the night shift.
So I didn’t find a solution to my sleep issues.
I did learn a bit more about some kind, compassionate, hard working folks in my backyard.