Last night I had a sleep study. For those of you who’ve never had this experience, it’s interesting to say the least.
You might know that I’ve had some health problems lately. I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia earlier this year, but there’s a chance that whatever is wrong with me is something else. So, they took some blood and, after discussing my snoring problem, set me up for a way to test how much oxygen I’m getting when I sleep. When the results of the sleep oxygen test thingy came back, they didn’t even bother talking to me before setting up an appointment for a sleep study. I assumed that was a bad sign and got confirmation from the guy who was there, last night, to watch me sleep.
Yep. A guy literally watched me sleep all night. He wasn’t in the room or anything. There was a camera for him to use that I assume had night vision capabilities because it was pitch black once all was said and done.
But, I’m getting ahead of myself.
I got there a little after seven thirty and they got me all registered as an “out-patient” and gave me directions to the sleep study lab. I got there, knocked on the door, and was greeted by a man with a black eye, long white hair pulled back in a ponytail, and a cool, calm manner. He was nice and listened as I prattled on about my books. We discussed HP Lovecraft, the story of Gilgamesh, and the usefulness of Save the Cat.
Now, I went into this not knowing what to expect. I have two friends who told me their experiences and they were as opposite as possible. One kept getting woken up through the night and the other said the bed was the most comfortable she’d ever slept on. I’m not quite sure what the point of a sleep study is if you’re going to get woken up over and over, but after last night, I think I know why.
The bed was comfortable. It was a sleep number bed, and I remember getting one for my Dad for Christmas one year. I played with the settings and claimed it was mine and he’d have to find another bed for himself. That, of course, didn’t happen, but the bed last night was incredibly comfortable. I found the perfect number and it was like sleeping on a cloud.
The bed may be the only redeeming quality of this entire experience. Now I know what bed I want when Hubs and I finish fixing up the house and pick out a new one. But the wires. OMG the wires! I had wires attached to my face, my head, my chest, and even my neck! Do you realize how horrible that neck one was? I have a thing, a phobia that I can’t find a name for, about the neck. You can’t touch my neck. I can’t watch things where bad stuff happens to a neck. I literally place the collar of my shirts over my chin to keep my neck safe from the air! And yet, here’s this guy, the nicest fellow ever, who is trying to put a wire on my neck and I just about flipped out.
I calmed down and all the wires got placed and he helped me manoeuvre myself to the bed without ripping out any of the wires. Of course, we ended up ripping out a couple of the wires. For the next half an hour, he went back and forth between me and his computer with the readings in the other room as he tried to figure out what wires weren’t working and why. Once everything was done and the computer was reading my brainwaves, heartbeat, and oxygen levels, I was set to go to sleep.
There was only one problem…
How is a person supposed to sleep with ALL OF THAT?!
After a nice round of Simon Says (blink five times, flex your feet, look to your left with just your eyes) to make sure the readings came through they way they should, he shut off the lights and left me to it.
Did you know that doctors can prescribe the number of hours you sleep? Well, they can. Especially during a sleep study. I was prescribed six hours of sleep. That meant, if I went to bed at 10pm I’d get up at 4am. When we were done, there was still an hour before my “official bedtime” so I read for about 40 minutes (IDOLS by Margaret Stohl).
I remember, once I’d sort of fallen asleep, kicking my legs and trying to find a comfortable position and then realizing that I had a lot of wires connected and just stopping mid-movement. I remember waking up thinking there was something on my face and reaching to get it off before realizing it was supposed to be there. I remember thinking the straps on my feet (Yeah, they put wires there too) had come loose and being thankful I could finally bend my legs into a comfortable position.
The next thing I know, the calm dude with the black eye was waking me up.
I’m going to tell you, the worst thing about the entire experience is the after. I had so much goo all over my head from where he stuck the wires that he brought me shampoo/body wash and a couple of towels. All I did was clean the stuff off my face before walking out the door and saying goodbye to him. I’m not a big fan of showering anywhere but at home, especially if there’s a huge hole in the ceiling where a tile was pushed aside. It’s bad enough peeing while staring into a dark void above your head, the idea of getting completely naked under it just didn’t sit right with me. That’s how horror movies start.
In the end, I was able to get some good sleep, even with the wires. I’ll thank the bed for that one. Now I’m at home watching my daughter kill zombies on the xbox while Little Man and Hubs snore softly in their beds. It’s still early as I write this and I have goo to get out of my hair and breakfast to figure out for the family.
I look forward to my nap later today 😉