So. Some of you read my post about having my sleep study. Some of you even asked me to update you on the results.
You know what they say, right?
Denial is more than a river in Egypt.
They were right.
I have been denying the obvious for a lot of years now. I mean, I’ve told you, I could NOT get my mind around the idea that I might be suffering from a sleep disorder that I associated with overweight men. Honestly, I was too embarrassed to even entertain the thought that I might be snoring, snorting, gasping, stopping my breathing and endangering my life every time I went to bed.
I am the daughter of a woman who is pretty much totally healthy at 89. Her Mom died at 99 and a precious half, but only because her parts wore out. She was healthy as a horse until she died.
I did NOT want to be sick. In any way.
Then I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia. I tried to ignore that one for a while, too. Until I couldn’t. Then I decided to accept the medication, but not the limitations.
I mean, here’s the truth that I know about me. I am not stoic. I am not strong and brave. I do not shake off pain.
In fact, if I must be honest, I am a wicked big baby. I gripe, I moan, I complain.
I have always assumed that when/if I get a terrible diagnosis, I will be the worst patient ever. I don’t see myself as having the grace that my Dad had as he navigated the last few weeks of his life.
But here I am. Not exactly going into that “dark night”. But sort of forced to accept some facts.
One: I have fibromyalgia. I can’t rake the entire garden in one day and expect to walk the next.
Two: I have wicked wicked bad sleep apnea. Holy crap. I read and reread my sleep study report.
I am in deep trouble.
I seem to stop breathing more than 80 times per hour. My blood pressure and my pulse rate jump around like crazy all night long.
According to my sleep study report, I have “SEVERE sleep disordered breathing.” Yikes.
It also says that I snore (are you ready for this????) 42% of the night.
And that (ahem) 35% of the night my snoring is “extremely loud.”
My husband is a freakin’ saint. He still sleeps with me. And he says, “Once I fall asleep, I don’t hear a thing.”
I suspect that he’s lying, because he knows that I feel completely faked out about this whole thing.
I am now awaiting the home delivery of my CPap machine. I hate the whole idea of sleeping with a mask on my face.
But I do like the idea of living for a while longer. And I really love the idea of letting my poor husband get some decent sleep for a change.
Better living through modern medicine. I am more than willing to embrace this new part of my life.
Maybe I’ll be shocked at how good I feel after sleeping with a plastic mask over my face…..