I’ve been a “teensy” tired lately. Well, honestly, I’ve been exhausted for months. I wake up tired no matter what time I go to sleep. No matter if I nap. No matter what. Sleep apnea, you surmise. No way, I say!
“Do you snore?” asked the pulmonologist/sleep specialist.
“No,” I responded indignantly.
“Does she snore?” responded Handsome Hubby incredulously. “Does an old-time freight train in need of a tune-up hauling a 20-ton load of coal uphill through a blizzard huff and puff? Hell, yes, she snores. It’s unbelievable the sounds the woman emits.”
Sleep Apnea, Oh, No!
“Sounds like sleep apnea to me,” said the doctor. “Let’s do a sleep study to confirm.”
“Let’s schedule a divorce and find a new doctor,” I snort, (silently, of course.)
Now let me be clear: Just as women do not fart, (they have vapors), women do not snore. At the very worst, they breathe heavily. So, obviously, I do not snore. And as an aside, HH is the one who snores like a freight train on steroids.
I attempted to make this clarification for the doctor and HH, but faster than you can say, sleep-study-scheduled, the test was on set.
Sleep Apnea Study
A few weeks later, I was wired for sound. How you can call it a “sleep” study, bets me. I had so many wires and goop/glue attached to me there was no way I was going to get any shut-eye.
But apparently, somehow I did get some sleep, because two weeks later when I returned to the doctor’s office for the results — alone, sans Handsome Hubby and his unsolicited, disloyal “yes, she snores like a freight train” opinion — I was greeted by the news no woman of genteel and delicate sensibilities ever wants to hear:
“Wow. You really do have sleep apnea. In fact, you have severe sleep apnea,” said the lady sleep doc.
“Excuse me,” I said in disbelieve and disdain. “You’re obviously looking at the wrong chart.”
“I don’t think so, Karen.”
“You’re clearly mistaking me for another Karen.”
“Karen. Karen Galatz.”
“Well, you’re reading the chart wrong.”
“Why does this upset you so much?” It’s a problem with a solution,” the doctor said with a smile.
“Yeah, right. A very unsexy, bulky, noisy mask,” I grumbled. That’s your idea of a solution?”
“Well, it’s a solution to being exhausted and feeling miserable.”
And with that breezy, cheerful response, faster-than-you can say unsexy sleep mask, I was handed a piece of paper with the contact information for the equipment provider of my sleep apnea breathing apparatus.
Supply Chain Woes
Now I wait.
It’s been three weeks since I saw the pulmonologist. It seems even sleep apnea breathing masks are not immune to supply chain woes. And so, I wait for a phone call. An email. A text message. A delivery.
I guess it is not an exaggeration to say I’m “holding my breath” waiting — apparently an alarming number of times each night!
Oh well, as they say, getting old isn’t for cowards! Or for the cute!
😴 😴 💤 😴 😴
And if you want more information about sleep apnea, which is, in some cases, a potentially serious problem, here’s the link to the Mayo Clinic.
https://muddling.me/wp-content/uploads/2022/02/Sleep-mask.jpg314575Karen Galatzhttps://muddling.me/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/new-logo3.jpgKaren Galatz2022-02-16 08:01:312022-02-15 12:12:49Sleep Apnea? Not Me. No Way.