I know I’m supposed to do things this weekend. I’ll do them tomorrow. I will set aside the time. Right now I am exhausted–speaking of which:
I had the initial visit for my sleep study today. It went very well. I don’t remember exactly what the nurse’s name was–we’ll call her Jean, because it was either that or Jane, and Jean is friendlier. She was in her fifties, pixie-cut auburn hair, shortish, and encouraging. Oh, and she doesn’t mind the blending of allopathic and naturopathic styles of medicine. I can get behind the holistic approach.
In one week’s time, I will check myself into the sleep lab under 919 Westfall, Building A. I will be bringing my laptop, my phone, and whatever equipment will keep them both running and connected to the Internet. I am lucky to have grown up the daughter of a network engineer, I suppose, as I know what questions to ask. They will hook me up to the EEG machine and record my brain waves; they will take a good two weeks to analyse, at which point I will return to the sleep lab for a discussion of the results.
Irony of ironies, I am tired right now.
Jean said that fibromyalgia symptoms had been induced in patients via sleep deprivation, and that my crappy sleep might be the cause, not the effect, of my CFS-esque issues. I truly hope it’s that, and that it’s fixable. I miss sleeping well. I know I must have done it once upon a time. Or did I? I also know I kept my parents awake from day one–okay, my parents and half the maternity ward. I was born spooky, too, the day my dad’s adoptive mom died, very fast for a first birth. My dad called his adoptive dad to tell him I was here, and that’s how he found out about Mavis.
Thank God they didn’t name me Mavis.
So maybe I don’t know what a good night’s sleep feels like. I remember dreams as far back as I remember anything, and most people are meant to forget them, though I don’t remember as many dreams as I have now. They weren’t as long and involved, either. I saw skeletons, mainly, and I dreamed in monochrome, except for the one about the human body peeling back, layer by layer, against a blue background. No, mostly I remember dead things. And a bus. And Tom Petty’s “Runnin’ Down a Dream”, but that’s because I fell asleep listening to Full Moon Fever.
There is just no going on like this, not much longer. I mean, sure, there is, but not well. Not as well as people who sleep deeply and soundly. Hopefully the sleep psychologist (!) will teach me how to sleep more normally. I know I’ve been through a lot in my life, and that’s bound to affect me. Things do get worked out in my dreams sometimes; I actually dreamed about my own abandonment issues. Unfortunately, some dreams just drag out parts of me that deserve to stay buried. I want to sink those parts with rocks in their pockets, down to the bottom of the Mariana Trench.
So. More dreams tonight. Alarm set for ten. Haircut at 1:30. I may post about my new superboobs. Breasts of steel! Er, yeah, getting a bit giddy. Best go lie down.