Tonight I am participating in polysomnography.
That's a $20 word for sleep study.
I am scheduled to arrive at the sleep center at 8:15 tonight, booted out by 6:30 tomorrow morning. Too bad there are no bars open at 6:30 am.
I imagine I'll look like Frankenstein. Hooked up to sensors to measure brain waves, oxygen level in my blood, heart rate and breathing as I sleep. Assuming I can sleep with all that shit attached to my body.
As a man with a negative bank balance, tonight will be like a luxury spa experience. Full size bed, tv, private bath, linens, towels and soap. The Bruins are playing. Perfect.
They suggest I bring two-piece sleepwear - t-shirt and shorts, or pajamas. I suppose they need easy access to the sensors.
They are in for a rude awakening. For the past month I have been sleeping in my recliner wearing three sweatshirts and under three blankets. If they don't crank the thermostat to 85 degrees, there's gonna be a ruckus. They'll probably tack on a surcharge.
Another exciting chapter in my life. I am actually hopeful that this will lead to a solution, so I can actually get a good night's sleep. It would be nice to put an end to living as a zombie.
In the spirit of cooperation, last night I got the worst night's sleep so far in the recliner. Whether I get four hours sleep or six, I have at least slept all the way through without consciously waking up. Every night. Except last night. I crawled into the recliner at 12:30 and woke up at 3:00. Are you fucking kidding me? Then I slept intermittently between 3:00 and 7:00.
I go through every day completely numb. Today I classify myself as dead. If I don't fall asleep tonight at the sleep center, there's no hope for me. I'll be riding the recliner to the grave.
Although Emmy Lou and Patsy won't mind. They love having me in the recliner. When they sleep with us in bed, they sleep next to us. When I sleep in the recliner, they curl up in my lap. Both of them.
Luxury accommodations, baby.
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