That's the best way to describe my emotional state yesterday. I recently had my annual physical. Part of that examination included my taking home a portable sleep monitoring machine on loan from the doctor's office to do a sleep apnea study at home. The other option of going to a sleep lab seemed less appealing than being in my own bedroom, by far. The Physician's Assistant in the office showed me how to set up the equipment and explained how to perform the test, and a guide to follow at home was included with the equipment. I did the test on a Friday night. I felt as though I barely even closed my eyes that night, let alone slept...yet I must indeed have slept. I turned the equipment off when I got up the next morning, repacked it in the travel case, and Jay took it and the disk containing my readings back to the doctor's office. He sent the disk off to be read and evaluated by a technician. Then, on Monday of this week, I got a call from the doctor's office asking me to please come in before my next scheduled appointment because the doctor wanted to discuss the results of the study.

It did not take a rocket scientist to figure out what was about to happen. As I saw it, there were two possibilities: Either I did the test incorrectly the first time and there was no data on the disk and I would need to do the test again . . . or the doctor was about to tell me that yes, the test was positive for sleep apnea and we would need to discuss options for treatment. I know this doctor very well after having worked with him for eight years, so I knew he would not ask to see me sooner than my scheduled visit untless there was a good reason. In other words, he would not call me in just to say the test was negative.

So, I went in yesterday morning, and sure enough I have sleep apnea. The doctor told me that it is "severe". His description was, "you are basically strangling in your sleep, over and over again." No wonder I'm exhausted when I awaken; it's impossible to get any rest when I'm waking several times per hour to catch my breath. He gave me a prescription for a CPAP machine and the phone number of a group of Respiratory Therapists he works with, and told me to call and set up an appointment. I called, and the RT who answered the phone asked for the doctor's prescription and my insurance information, which I provided. Next step is to meet with the RT (likely next week) to receive training on the use and care of the equipment. I will likely be getting the machine around the same time as the appointment with the RT.

It seems ironic. I suggested Jay be tested for sleep apnea because he snored terribly, and is overweight. Those are classic factors that contribute to sleep apnea. He returned the favor by suggesting I get tested myself for the condition, and my doctor agreed it would be a good idea, if ony to rule it out.

Jay is also diagnosed with sleep apnea, and already has a CPAP. He generously offered the use of his CPAP to me, and I declined the offer, with thanks. He needs it himself. The miracle here (and I am famous for looking for silver linings behind dark clouds) is that the condition has been diagnosed, and can now be treated -- and I haven't had a stroke or heart attack because of the condition. I'll take my blessings where I can find them.