Perchance To Sleep
Oct. 31st, 2012 07:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
howeirdI thought it was twice as far, probably because the new apartment is a lot closer. But not that much closer. Anyhow, I was at the sleep clinic an hour early. Which gave me time to relax in a very comfortable bedroom in a lovely leather chair and read my Kindle. I think it's something from the same author as Water For Elephants, but I can't remember. It is very well written, and has the same excellent character development.
There was also a questionnaire, the whole first page was a notice that I accept that if my insurance doesn't cover the service their attorneys are required to remove one kidney and their choice of fingers on my left hand. Since this is via my HMO and is prepaid, they really should have left that page off. The next two pages were asking what Dread Diseases I have and what medications I am taking for them. And the final page was in 30-point type, with checkboxes for allergies to latex, vinyl, rubber and fetish clothing. I only had to initial that one, the others had to be signed.
The tech was a pretty woman named Rochelle, and we had a lovely chat while she was organizing the Rig Of 1,000 Wires, and slapping gel-coated contacts onto various parts of my anatomy. I was surprised by some of them, such as the pair which went on my legs. One on the calf and one on the quads. A pair for each side. The ones for the right side had red wires, which gave me a chance to tell her how that's a sailing thing - "Red on the right returning". When you come into the harbor, there are red marker buoys and green ones, with the red ones marking the right side of the channel. Okay, starboard. The wires for the left leg were not green, which kind of watered down the analogy.
There was a band to go around my tummy and another for my chest, a contact at th corner of each eye, and a vinyl tube to shove into my nose which had a useless metal prong in front which got in the way when I tried to sip a cup of water and take my meds.
The rig was about 8" long and 5" wide, in a carrying bag with a shoulder strap, and this attached to the monitor with a single coax-width snap-in/snap-out cable. It was hung on the headboard and I was told to lie down on the queen-sized bed and she went through about 10 minutes of monitor-checking exercises with me, like hold my breath for 20 seconds, blink each eye 5 times, move one leg then the other, and a couple of other things I forget.
The bed was very comfortable. I asked what Rochelle thought about my taking the Ambien which the doctor had prescribed, she said to try for an hour without it. She said it would totally knock me out. With all the wires and the oxygen sensor on my index finger it was hard to get comfortable, and also this was 2 hours before my normal bed time, but after an hour I felt like sleep was a distinct possibility, and decided to make a restroom run and try for real. Rochelle was in the room in a flash to help me figure out the disconnect routine, and helped me rec-connect when I was done.
In half an hour I was asleep, and though I woke up maybe 6 times during the night only once was to take a leak, twice to hydrate. Two times I woke up speaking the last lines of th dream I was coming out of, and I remember one of those was "Well, that's cute!". I'm pretty sure the comment was about a clever way to use all 5 battery-backed up outlets on my new UPS. I also know I dreamed about Rochelle. And why not? She is pretty, has a nice figure, very intelligent and laughs at my jokes. Even the one where I pointed out that to me she was New Rochelle.
I was fast asleep when she came in to kick me out. 6:20 am. They told me to expect to be out the door at 6, but I was happy for the extra sleep because it was not a night of restful repose. After she unhooked me, hanging each wire on a custom rack on the wall as she removed them from me, she handed me a washcloth to get the gel off the arms and legs, but there was a slab of gel across the back of my hair which needed a shower. And then there was another questionnaire, mostly asking how many times I thought I woke up and how much less well I slept than I do at home.
Before I left she helped me find the make and model of the mattress - I'll be trading my 1987 Sears special for a Sealy Posturepedic Real Soon Now. I will not be buying it from Sleep Train, their ads have annoyed me for decades. And not Costco, they don't provide a bed frame and sometimes not box springs either, and they charge extra to haul away the old one. I'll be doing some shopping this weekend, probably.
So, home right about 7 am, Domino was waiting at the door. Undressed, showered, took my meds and packed snacks. And off to work early.
There was also a questionnaire, the whole first page was a notice that I accept that if my insurance doesn't cover the service their attorneys are required to remove one kidney and their choice of fingers on my left hand. Since this is via my HMO and is prepaid, they really should have left that page off. The next two pages were asking what Dread Diseases I have and what medications I am taking for them. And the final page was in 30-point type, with checkboxes for allergies to latex, vinyl, rubber and fetish clothing. I only had to initial that one, the others had to be signed.
The tech was a pretty woman named Rochelle, and we had a lovely chat while she was organizing the Rig Of 1,000 Wires, and slapping gel-coated contacts onto various parts of my anatomy. I was surprised by some of them, such as the pair which went on my legs. One on the calf and one on the quads. A pair for each side. The ones for the right side had red wires, which gave me a chance to tell her how that's a sailing thing - "Red on the right returning". When you come into the harbor, there are red marker buoys and green ones, with the red ones marking the right side of the channel. Okay, starboard. The wires for the left leg were not green, which kind of watered down the analogy.
There was a band to go around my tummy and another for my chest, a contact at th corner of each eye, and a vinyl tube to shove into my nose which had a useless metal prong in front which got in the way when I tried to sip a cup of water and take my meds.
The rig was about 8" long and 5" wide, in a carrying bag with a shoulder strap, and this attached to the monitor with a single coax-width snap-in/snap-out cable. It was hung on the headboard and I was told to lie down on the queen-sized bed and she went through about 10 minutes of monitor-checking exercises with me, like hold my breath for 20 seconds, blink each eye 5 times, move one leg then the other, and a couple of other things I forget.
The bed was very comfortable. I asked what Rochelle thought about my taking the Ambien which the doctor had prescribed, she said to try for an hour without it. She said it would totally knock me out. With all the wires and the oxygen sensor on my index finger it was hard to get comfortable, and also this was 2 hours before my normal bed time, but after an hour I felt like sleep was a distinct possibility, and decided to make a restroom run and try for real. Rochelle was in the room in a flash to help me figure out the disconnect routine, and helped me rec-connect when I was done.
In half an hour I was asleep, and though I woke up maybe 6 times during the night only once was to take a leak, twice to hydrate. Two times I woke up speaking the last lines of th dream I was coming out of, and I remember one of those was "Well, that's cute!". I'm pretty sure the comment was about a clever way to use all 5 battery-backed up outlets on my new UPS. I also know I dreamed about Rochelle. And why not? She is pretty, has a nice figure, very intelligent and laughs at my jokes. Even the one where I pointed out that to me she was New Rochelle.
I was fast asleep when she came in to kick me out. 6:20 am. They told me to expect to be out the door at 6, but I was happy for the extra sleep because it was not a night of restful repose. After she unhooked me, hanging each wire on a custom rack on the wall as she removed them from me, she handed me a washcloth to get the gel off the arms and legs, but there was a slab of gel across the back of my hair which needed a shower. And then there was another questionnaire, mostly asking how many times I thought I woke up and how much less well I slept than I do at home.
Before I left she helped me find the make and model of the mattress - I'll be trading my 1987 Sears special for a Sealy Posturepedic Real Soon Now. I will not be buying it from Sleep Train, their ads have annoyed me for decades. And not Costco, they don't provide a bed frame and sometimes not box springs either, and they charge extra to haul away the old one. I'll be doing some shopping this weekend, probably.
So, home right about 7 am, Domino was waiting at the door. Undressed, showered, took my meds and packed snacks. And off to work early.
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