Diagnosed

September Writing Challenge - Prompt #4:

Diagnosis 

The other day I wrote about some of the changes I’ve experienced this year. One change I hinted at but didn’t talk about specifically is that I was diagnosed with sleep apnea. 

The path that led to that diagnosis was a bit bizarre. I went to the psychiatrist for ADHD, and she strongly urged me to do a sleep study. She said a lot of ADHD-like symptoms turn up with sleep apnea, and since I snore (embarrassing and true), it was one of the first things she wanted to check. I was resistant - I had no reason to think that I stopped sleeping at night. I asked Scotty if he’d ever noticed anything, and he said no. Yes, I’m tired during the day, but not even close to what it was like when I had babies and toddlers, so as far as I thought, things were going pretty good sleep-wise. At first I said no to the sleep study, but then I thought, well, it wouldn’t hurt to rule out sleep apnea. 

This process started in May, and I did an at-home sleep study in June (I didn’t even know such a thing was possible). 

The dummy modeling how to attach all my sleep study gear

Five “events” per hour is the criteria for sleep apnea. Turns out, I stop breathing an average of 23 times an hour.

I had no stinkin’ clue. 

(If you’re curious, 23 puts me in the “moderate” category. Thirty is “severe”). 

Based on my sleep study results, my diagnosis is quite firm. I definitely have sleep apnea, and now that I know more about what sleep apnea really is, I’m like, “Ooooh. Yeah, I have that for sure.” I feel my throat close off when I lay down, but I didn’t know that was sleep apnea. It turns out, a lot of medical problems/symptoms I’ve been dealing with for the last ten years can possibly be linked to sleep apnea. So maybe, just maybe… if I can get my sleep apnea under control, I’ll get a lot of other problems managed. 

So the ultimate result of seeing a psychiatrist was not at all what I expected. Now, after nearly four months, I have a CPAP machine. I picked it up last Wednesday. It’s so ugly and uncomfortable, but if it makes me feel better eventually, I guess it will be worth the hassle. Getting used to it is going to be quite the chore. I feel like there’s an octopus suctioned to my head, and I look like I’ve been abducted and subjected to alien experimentation. And I just do this for… the rest of my life? Okay then. 

I’m happy to report, though (as I finish this post from bed at 6:11 Tuesday morning) that last night, my CPAP gave me a score of 100/100, meaning I absolutely rocked my therapy. 

So if you see me today, and I seem to have a little more pep in my step than normal, it’s probably because I breathed seven hours straight last night. I’ll try not to brag about it.