Text Offender (digigasm) wrote,
Text Offender

I had my second sleep study on Monday and it went much better than the first. I actually fell asleep by 1:00am despite having even more machinery attached to my face. I had the same technician hooking wires up to my head. I couldn't have been paired with a worse medical professional. Both times he has wanted to watch Fox "news" while working on me. Whatever. Both times he has mentioned my long hair in a contemptable tone. I understand it may make his job a bit more difficult but I don't think his dislike of it is entirely job-related. He's a car geek. I'm a computer and music geek. I'm married with children. He's a thirty-year-old teenager. When he said it would be difficult to attach the electrodes to my chin because of my goatee I offered to trim the hair away. He said, "No, that's okay", as if I would be putting him through too much trouble to find a pair of scissors.

After enduring his presence for an hour and getting the CPAP machine strapped to my face I lay there for an hour and fall asleep. I woke up once to go to the bathroom (this is quite an ordeal as I have to ring the technician to unhook me from all the machines) but I barely remember it. After sleeping for six hours I was awoken(?), disconnected, and told I could go home. I took a shower to wash off the glue and pencil lines from my hair and face.

I went to Mitzel's for breakfast because I've never been there (I should've gone to IHOP). While eating breakfast I dialled into the morning meeting of the project from hell. While choking down bad coffee and only slightly better food I endured the usual accusations of sloth.

After breakfast it was time for my dentist appointment. I wore the Elton John sunglasses. I exchanged the requisite banter with my hygenist through gritty toothpaste and steel spikes. I was told, again, that I'm not taking enough care of my teeth. Brushing every day and flossing every other is not cutting it. I was urged to floss every day and start rinsing with flouride (commie conspiracy!)

As I was walking back to my car I cursed them (all of them) muttering as I walked.

Then it was time to go to the office to try to get some work done.

I worked a lot. I slept very little. Days passed.

Thursday I went to the Monkey Pub for the first time in a long time. I got fucked up on Pabst and Wild Turkey. I was one of the only ones to beat That Hot Girl with the Tattoos at pool. I laughed at my friend, Isaiah, who was being particularly boisterous. I put money in the jukebox and played some Love and Rockets, Skinny Puppy, Pixies, Helmet, Simian, and Pig's cover of Head Like a Hole(which, if you haven't heard it, is a fucking spectacular cover).

Now I find myself working through yet another weekend for the project from hell. Not only do I have to deliver the data but I must also gift-wrap it and put on a bow.

And still I wait for treatment for my sleep apnea. I'm unable to express the depth of my frustration with having to wait so long. I'm sick of waking up feeling like shit. I'm sick of sleeping on the couch. I'm sick of forgetting what happened yesterday. I'm sick of feeling like a fat, old, tired, fragile, unstable weakling. I want my life back for fuck's sake.

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