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Sleep Study.
May. 10th, 2012 07:28 amSo I had to do a sleep study last night. It was pretty much a disaster. I slept soundly from 10pm until 3am. And then at 3am - BING. Awake. Can't sleep. I lay there for an hour unable to sleep. Then I get something in my eye, and I rub at it, and I think I scratched my eyeball or something, because it STILL feels irritated. So fucking annoying. So I couldn't drift back to sleep. But I'd had a pill to get to sleep the night before, and I was dopey and tired, but I still couldn't sleep. I'm yawning now, tired, and I probably couldn't sleep cause of my eye.
I sat and yakked with the head sleep scientist doctor lady for a while cause I couldn't sleep. Guess what we talked about? You'll never guess. No really, you won't. Fifes. Tin whistles. Flutes. I have an Irish tin whistle that I bought that I couldn't really get any good sounds out of cause I was trained up as a recorder player at school. She drew me up a tin whistle note guide (or photocopied it from something she had lying around in the lab, I'm not sure). It was the oddest two hours I've ever had at a hospital. And that includes the time the nurse walked in after my laproscopy and pulled back my sheet, spread my legs, looked at my catheter and walked out again without even a "How's your Father?"
One embarrassing moment - I had wriggled free of my breath-measuring nasal tube thing in the middle of the night, so one of the sleep scientists came in to fix it. Gorgeous young thing that didn't look totally unlike Liv Tyler. She comes in with the torch, and guess what I do?
I scream. Horror movie scream. My full-on, PTSD fuelled anxiety scream. Poor woman was totally shocked. Scared the shit out of her. I felt so bad about it, I *still* feel bad.
The sleep scientist woman that helped me get kitted out, she was lovely, and we talked about cats the whole time. We'd talked about our old cats, our young cats, all that sort of thing. That lead to me having a horrible dream about being in a hospital, and there's some kind of heavy thing going down (External or internal, there was stress), and Melma (my old cat) was around, and she was sick. And this was weird cause I thought she was dead. Anyway, I put her in someone else's care while I go to the hospital in this dream. Then I find out that the hospital put her down and cremated her while I was being treated. This lead to me screaming at them in my sleep, "I didn't even get to say GOODBYE! You've RUINED THIS. FOREVER!" It was really horrible, I woke up totally bummed out and heart-achey and shit. And the worst thing, is that combined with the hangover from the sedative, I mulled over it and agonised over it, and went through the memories of getting her put down, and feeling totally bad about it (even though it was a mercy and I've totally been OVER it, from what I could tell). It's such a random, strange thing to pop up when I'm at the hospital.
Anyway, I have to go back there at 9am cause I have a Pain Management thingo. I would have stayed there for breakfast but nothing was open, and I didn't really feel like spending money on a gluten-packed breakfast when home was ten minutes away, with cats and comfies and somewhere to dump my stuff.
My eye is still fucking irritated.
I sat and yakked with the head sleep scientist doctor lady for a while cause I couldn't sleep. Guess what we talked about? You'll never guess. No really, you won't. Fifes. Tin whistles. Flutes. I have an Irish tin whistle that I bought that I couldn't really get any good sounds out of cause I was trained up as a recorder player at school. She drew me up a tin whistle note guide (or photocopied it from something she had lying around in the lab, I'm not sure). It was the oddest two hours I've ever had at a hospital. And that includes the time the nurse walked in after my laproscopy and pulled back my sheet, spread my legs, looked at my catheter and walked out again without even a "How's your Father?"
One embarrassing moment - I had wriggled free of my breath-measuring nasal tube thing in the middle of the night, so one of the sleep scientists came in to fix it. Gorgeous young thing that didn't look totally unlike Liv Tyler. She comes in with the torch, and guess what I do?
I scream. Horror movie scream. My full-on, PTSD fuelled anxiety scream. Poor woman was totally shocked. Scared the shit out of her. I felt so bad about it, I *still* feel bad.
The sleep scientist woman that helped me get kitted out, she was lovely, and we talked about cats the whole time. We'd talked about our old cats, our young cats, all that sort of thing. That lead to me having a horrible dream about being in a hospital, and there's some kind of heavy thing going down (External or internal, there was stress), and Melma (my old cat) was around, and she was sick. And this was weird cause I thought she was dead. Anyway, I put her in someone else's care while I go to the hospital in this dream. Then I find out that the hospital put her down and cremated her while I was being treated. This lead to me screaming at them in my sleep, "I didn't even get to say GOODBYE! You've RUINED THIS. FOREVER!" It was really horrible, I woke up totally bummed out and heart-achey and shit. And the worst thing, is that combined with the hangover from the sedative, I mulled over it and agonised over it, and went through the memories of getting her put down, and feeling totally bad about it (even though it was a mercy and I've totally been OVER it, from what I could tell). It's such a random, strange thing to pop up when I'm at the hospital.
Anyway, I have to go back there at 9am cause I have a Pain Management thingo. I would have stayed there for breakfast but nothing was open, and I didn't really feel like spending money on a gluten-packed breakfast when home was ten minutes away, with cats and comfies and somewhere to dump my stuff.
My eye is still fucking irritated.
