My past two Fridays nights have been spent in a sleep disorder clinic, being diagnosed for . . . you guessed it . . . a sleep disorder. After a couple of months of tossing and turning, being unable to fall asleep and being unable to stay asleep, I had had enough. I gave in and made a doctors appointment. I explained that I have never been a morning person anyway, but lately I have been unable to fall asleep, and wake several times during the night. I also explained our insurance nightmare and told him I was sure that had a lot to do with it. He referred me to a sleep disorder specialist and asked if I also wanted a referral to go see a counselor. (The last time I went to see a counselor it was because I was depressed because my cat died. I felt so silly, but I was 26 at the time and my cat was 13 when she died. So when you do the math, I had that cat half my life. Of course I was upset.) I declined the counselor explaining that I was sure once all this insurance crap gets straightened out, things would go back to normal. But I agreed to the sleep study. And I have to say the results were strangly satisfying. Since this is all new to me and I'm sure I'm getting some of this wrong, you can go here to learn anything you may want to know about sleep apnea or sleep studies. First of all I couldn't imagine being able to fall asleep in a strange place all hooked up to electrodes, but through the miracle of Ambien, I had no problems at all. In fact, I slept better there than I had been at home. Rozerem is useless by the way. The clinic is privately owned by the doctor, and it's like a hotel. Big lazy-boy chair in the corner in front of a big flat-screen TV on the wall. A table and chair in the other corner. A nice comfortable bed with lots of magazines on the nightstand. The only unsetteling part was the camera and microphone installed so the sleep tech could see and hear me all night. But after giving birth to four children I've pretty much lost any inhibitions when it comes to medical stuff. Pretty much. So after my first night, I had a follow-up appointment with the doctor a couple of days later. This was the satisfying part. He explained that there were three levels of sleep disturbances (at least this is how I remember it) 1. apnea - that's when you stop breathing all together for a given amount of time, 2. hypopneas - breathing is disturbed but doesn't stop, and 3. arrithmeas - the least severe of the three. During the night I only had one apnea, but I had 124 hypopneas and 146 arrithmeas. In one night. See? No wonder I'm such a crank. So they do some calculation and anything over a 5 is considered a sleep disorder. This calculation is explained here also. My number was 36. My three treatment options were a mouth piece thingy, a CPAP, or surgery. I opted for the CPAP. So back for a second night to get what pressure my CPAP should be set for. And I'm telling you that Ambien might as well be Rupies, because apparently the sleep tech had to put a chin strap on me in the middle of the night, and I have absolutely no memory of it. So my CPAP has been ordered, and I am anxiously awaiting it's arrival so I can start getting a decent night's sleep. In the meantime, I have my wonderful Ambien to comfort me.
On the other cranky-front, we met with the lawyer AAA hired for our Examination Under Oath yesterday. I think it went well, but you never know with these lawyer types. I only remembered specifically two of our friends coming over to help Vince load the extra heavy stuff into the trailer, but Vince remembered one of their wifes coming too (also a friend). So that is the only contradiction we could find in what we told him. And since I went to my mom's house with the kids, and Vince stayed behind to finish packing up the trailer, she might have been there when I wasn't. So it's no big deal, it's just stuck in my brain for something to worry about. Because I need something to worry about, don't you know.
My silver lining? I've lost 12 pounds. Weight Watchers never worked this well.