My sleep doctor's office called me yesterday afternoon with the results of my sleep study. I slept for 5.5 hours at the lab last Friday night, stopped breathing 101 times, an average of 17 times per hour when I was not dreaming and an average of 58 times an hour when I was. [Fourthborn heard 101 and instantly thought Dalmations. I thought WRR, the local classical music station.]
There will be a second sleep study, utilizing whatever they call that breathing machine. As my doctor's assistant says, this is something that we can and will fix. I hope the breathing gizmo comes in red.
Feeling profoundly grateful to know that my weariness is not “all in my head”.
Toes are healing nicely. Still not ready to take them dancing, but I can envision a time when that sounds like fun. The left toe is itching like crazy this morning. It feels like the good clean itch of healing tissue, not the painful one that signifies infection.
I spent a couple of hours tweaking the blog on Monday night. I guess that counts as my Family Home Evening activity for the week. And I spent maybe an hour on Ravelry last night, detailing the WIP and linking it to blog posts and getting my sheepie icon copied and pasted from here and Flickr to my cubby at Ravelry.
Last night was Knit Night, and I was too tired to go. Plus, I needed a little time and space to ponder the diagnosis and try to place it in context with the growing assortment of minor health issues over the past several years.
I am amazed at how productive I've been. I wonder how much more productive I would have been if I had had enough sleep and enough oxygen? Cue Jackson Browne singing Running on Empty.
Reaching for a mug a milk and my Supermom cape...
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!