A medical test
The last few days, we’ve had an arctic chill – and, suddenly, it’s mid-winter. Snow covers fields; frozen slush obstinately sticks to parking lots; ice daggers dangle over doorways; temperatures touch the lowest (positive) Fahrenheit integers. It’s indistinguishable from January. It looks lovely from indoors.
Tonight, I’m sleeping at my grandparents’ house. A vacation from Samuel’s squalling!
No, not just that. I have tubes in my nostrils and belts and wires and boxes strapped around my chest. They’re to measure my breathing and help the doctors decide if I have a sleep disorder.
If results are positive, they’ll account for:
Actually, I’d thought of it before, and Karin had thought of it (as a joke?), but the hospital stay definitely was the catalyst.
Tonight, I’m sleeping at my grandparents’ house. A vacation from Samuel’s squalling!
No, not just that. I have tubes in my nostrils and belts and wires and boxes strapped around my chest. They’re to measure my breathing and help the doctors decide if I have a sleep disorder.
If results are positive, they’ll account for:
- my constant sleepiness during the day;
- my inability to read an article or watch an hour of TV without dozing off;
- my weight gain the last seven years;
- my athletic and intellectual decline;
- my general lack of success.
Actually, I’d thought of it before, and Karin had thought of it (as a joke?), but the hospital stay definitely was the catalyst.