A funny things happened on my way to the sleep clinic last night... actually, it wasn't funny, and it didn't happen to me--but to my son, Marshall. He fell off a scooter, and needed three stitches in his eyebrow. Today, his brow looks heavy and neanderthalian. Poor guy.
I made it to the sleep clinic for my night of monitoring, and after changing into my sleep clothes, I was wired for sound. Imagine what it must have felt like to be Gulliver--strapped down by a village of Lilliputians--and you'll know something of what it was like to have to sleep with: Two wires stuck to my legs, two stuck to my chest, six on my skull (through the hair), two on my forehead, two behind my ears, two on my cheeks, two on my chin, one on under my nose with little plastic tongs going up into my nostrils, and a finger thingy clamped down on my index finger.
All these wires went to two belts around my stomach and chest which linked to a control box that lay in bed by my pillow. The clinician had to do a breathing and monitor check so he and his friend could spy on me from the other room, and as I lay on my stomach reading, he scurried in three separate times to adjust the wires I kept pulling out.
When I did fall asleep, I woke up some time later and felt trapped again. Finally, I slept for a long time before the clinician popped in at 5:45 to say “Good morning.” I realized suddenly where I was and it didn't freak me out, instead, I had somehow managed to make peace with the wires as felt them wrapped around my legs and back. I was told “You were just having a dream” and immediately I remembered in living color all the stuff I had just dreamt. I’m good at remembering my dreams but this was like being on steroids. He woke me up at the exact moment where I could remember everything.
I was in a strange town with a buddy who I haven't seen in well over 10 years. We went to this church fellowship dinner and he somehow got himself nominated to be their new pastor. When I mentioned to some that my wife and I had five children, this 40-year-old woman topped me by saying she had 16 children. Her husband had left her a widow (do you wonder why?), but uncannily, she was engaged to some young guy.
The church people at this dinner were formally voting to accept my friend as their pastor when I spoke up and said, “What are you doing? You don’t even know this guy. I know him, and I wouldn’t want him to be my pastor. Heck, I wouldn’t want myself to be my pastor.” I tried to encourage the head guy not to be so desperate, but he said they’d been looking for a pastor for 20 years. That shut me up, but I did manage to stop the coronation. My friend was really mad at me but things finally cooled down enough for us all to play indoor softball. I remember pitching to the dudes from High School Musical, but they kept striking out. Then I pitched to my buddy, and made a diving catch of his line drive... That's when the guy from the sleep center woke me up.
When I left this morning, they were making notes on my recording. They are not qualified to make an assessment, but he said that if he were to venture a guess, he’ll be seeing me again. I learned last night that if you’re diagnosed with sleep apnea, you have to come back and get hooked up to everything again and wear a breathing mask. Ugh. I dread having to sleep with a mask. I'm told that the mask works wonders; and that heredity is a big part of this, but also weight. If I can get back down to my college weight, maybe I won't have to sleep like the boy in the bubble.
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