Thursday, July 28, 2016

Sleep is the New Sex

I had a sleep study last night. I felt as though I didn't sleep all night long. I woke up and looked at the clock every hour for the first three hours and then lost track how many times I woke up after that. The lights were glaring at me. The lines were tangling around me. Everything was coming unclipped or undone. Something was pressing into my armpit. The wrap holding the heart monitor onto my finger itched. The oxygen thingy was sticking its little prongs into my nose. I hate when stuff is stuck into my nose. My dreams were all about living the rest of my life with these lines connected to my nose and chest and hands.

And of course I have a busy day today and can't go back to bed the way I want to. My life lately has been a series of doing the absolute minimum and going back to bed whenever I can. How exciting is that?

And yet, when I look at my bed, I crave more time there. I was in the kitchen with Mike the other day and he was cheerfully making his protein shake for breakfast. Fuck. I don't do anything cheerfully any more, let alone make my breakfast. Usually, I'm nonverbal in the morning, but I try anyway. The words just don't come.

"So tired," I said. I had splashed the milk and spilled rice protein over the counter around me.

"You're so tired," Mike sang back to me. He stopped and looked at me more closely. "You're going to have to go back to bed for a while after you take Nick to the weight room.

"Bed," I said like an addict asking for a hit.

"Sleep is the new sex, hon."

"Sleep," I sang back to him.

"Yeah, that's it. Sleep is the new sex."

"Sleep," I said again as if saying it could make it real with one word.

So, after I get the results from this study, I'm probably going to get a CPAP machine, more stuff to attach to my face while I try to sleep. Will I dream I'm tied up? At this point, I'll try anything. The doctor already said she'll do the test over if it comes up with a negative for sleep apnea. She's absolutely sure I'm going on a CPAP machine. It probably didn't help that I cried in her office. I've cried for the past three doctors I've seen and she was the first one who assured me we could get me back on track and feeling better.

That would be good. That would be very good.

Dear reader, what are you going to do if I get a nozzle for my nose and end up becoming a cheerful and productive member of society? Who are you going to go to for your weekly crabfest?

Oh, right. You're going to do what you've been doing the past few weeks when I've been too tired or sick or both to write a single word here. You're going to get on with your life as if I never existed.

Thank you for listening, jules