A couple of months ago I went in for a polysomnography (sleep study) to see if I have sleep apnea. I looked like this:
A week after that, I went in for a polysomnography with CPAP (sleep study with an elephant nose) I looked like this:
I recently visited the Dr. for the official report and, unfortunately the assistant weighed me first. The scale made a noise that sounded uncannily like “One at a time, please” and I watched the medical assistant mark my height and weight on the chart and saw that the intersection landed over the line dividing overweight and obese.
I am now obese. I look like this:
I had a hard time focusing on the doctor telling me I have moderate to severe sleep apnea (I may have been looking for chocolate in my purse). Since I had stopped breathing 125 times the night of the first study, the longest episode lasting 41 seconds, the elephant nose is my new appendage.
As if pushing the upper limit of middle-age with a thickening body that sprouts hair in the most inconvenient places isn’t enough to make a woman feel unattractive, sleeping with the long hose protruding from my nose whilst making Darth Vader noises adds to that empowering feeling of “I Am Woman, hear me roar!”
My husband tries to be supportive as I struggle to roll from obese back to overweight, in an effort to help the sleep apnea. While I gnaw on salad greens he offers encouraging phrases such as, “Does it bother you that I eat my chocolate Hagen Daas in front of you?” After he dislodges the pint from his nasal cavity, he gives me a back massage. I now look like this:
I think he may be getting it. The other night I awoke to find him shoving my nasal pillows back up my nostrils. Apparently, the mask had slipped and the resulting vortex alerted his survival instincts and he didn’t want to wake me, so he took action. At least, that’s what he told me. I think he’s afraid for his Hagen Daas.
