Continued Breathing

...is something all of us like to do. Having received (and lost) the results of the sleep test, there seems to be both obstructive and central apneas going on in the wee hours between dusk and dawn. Obstructive doesn't bother me as much as the idea of central apnea, which is when your brain does not put out the signal to breathe so the lungs go on hold until the brain is starving for oxygen and the reptilian medulla shrieks for god's sake breathe. I always thought it was a party trick that I could stop breathing and not feel the need to inhale, that holding breath was a form of deep meditation that led to diving for pearls in the Sea of Japan. Apparently, not when you're sleeping.

Really, I have to find the papers, looked and looked already..can get another copy later during the upcoming visit to the specialist, but this is what I have lived with for almost thirty years; not knowing where the hell I am or anything else for that matter. Except my son. And now my students. The mother instinct supersedes any lack of oxygen, just ask any woman with children. But now, where the H are those print-outs? All in all, I can't wait to get my CPAP machine chugging away, inflating me with air and humidity, you just watch the difference.

My appointment to see the sleep doctor is next Thursday, the 25th; then there has to be another appointment for a respiratory therapist who explains the machine to me. Good heavens, could this take any longer after diagnosis? I will awaken at age fifty-eight, not recognizing who that is in the mirror anymore and let's get going for time is short. My job is hanging by threads due to certification requirements not met. If I lose this, what on earth? This business is classified as a disability, I can only hope it buys me time.

How odd that I usually sign off this blog with a sleeptime wish, and here it has become my lifeline to the living. Check in with your doctors, people; for years I thought this was an offset of thyroid mess or depression. I can't tell you how many doctors, different antidepressants, vitamins, or frustrations have been lived through, not to my benefit. I ended up at a nutjob pill-pushing psychiatrist who had me on Ambien, clonozapam, Prozac and Effexor all at once. Many doctors have tried different combinations of meds that included Trazodone, Lexapro, more, less, morning, night, and get out of the house more. And now this diagnosis that gave me such vitality the day after; I felt years younger, saner, smarter and like the me I remember again. Hope, o hope, that this is a solution towards a life with fewer panic attacks, thank you.

Thursday cannot come soon enough, there are five nights left to sleep before the doctor, and then how many more before the treatment is implemented? My shelf has been cleared, the electrical outlet awaits, the anticipation has me waiting my turn. Sleep well.