Thursday, July 16, 2015

The sleep test

Tangled up in about 40 wires, seven electrodes stuck on my scalp with glue, a thin cigarette case sized metal thing dangling on my breast, two around the chest straps keeping things tight...a contraption on this thing between my nostrils to measure my breathing, wires going down my back and front to my legs.
Sure, Irene, now sleep.

I didn't.
The tech said I slept for long enough to get some measurements, but I deny this vigorously as I heard every inhalation and exhalation I made. I couldn't turn. I couldn't sleep on my belly without pulling wires from my flesh that had to be replaced.
After 2 am, I was through trying. I sat up uneasily and watched TV.
Just like at home, only with the wires.

I felt like a fish caught in a net. Or one of those porpoises caught with the tuna. Or a fly stuck in a spider's handiwork.

It was not fun.

Why did I allow this to happen? According to the cancer doctor and somebody else, my hemoglobin had risen, sign of something awry. First thought, naturally (?) was lack of sleep since I don't get enough restful sleep. So, I had to have this test.

It is easier for me to go into the other room or make up the sofa bed and sleep. I do sleep well in either place as long as I am not aggravated.

When I was picked up by my husband (who had not slept since 2 am anyway) at 6:00, he drove me home, made me some breakfast, told me to go up and get a shower. He later joined me in bed for a snooze. I slept. Like the dead.
Yes, I can sleep, thank you very much.
And I will sleep very well when I am dead.

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