CONWAY — As if my threadbare old T-shirts and mismatched pajama bottoms weren’t sexy enough, I’ve added a breathing mask to my sleeping ensemble.
My second sleep study — after the one I had for “fun,” just so I could write about it — showed that I had sleep apnea. Meaning I have trouble breathing several times during the night.
My husband’s comment: “Breathing is overrated.”
Yet I’d like to continue.
So, I drove back to Searcy after a crazy day, which included a blinding rainstorm, and arrived again at the Sleep Centers of Arkansas house.
I had requested that Marsha “take care of me,” as they put it. Not in the Mafia-cement-shoes-type way. She had hooked me up the first time I spent the night, and a bond forms when you have someone picking like a monkey through your hair taping electrodes to your head.
Plus, she kept telling me how “small” I was. Compared with some of those massive men who come in, I guess so.
She tucked me into bed. Came to unhook me if I had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. It’s sort of like having your mommy there.
This time, I got to take the continuous positive airway pressure — CPAP — mask for a test run. I had to pick one: either the kind that covers your whole mouth and nose, which made me feel a little claustrophobic, or the nice-sounding “nasal pillows.”
I tried them all and decided on the nasal pillows, which sort of look like snorkel gear without the eye mask.
She used a size small on my nose, much to my family’s disbelief. Upon hearing that, my sweet brother-in-law commented to my husband, “Then what have we been looking at all these years?” Thanks a lot, Tom.
I picked up the machine last week and got trained on it. The respiratory therapist told me it was easy. So is turning on the TV for most people, but I usually have to call in my 17-year-old to help me.
It did seem easy. It doesn’t have many buttons. When I tried on the mask, the young guy at the medical-supply company laughed. My husband asked, “Why did he laugh?” I said, “Because I looked funny!”
I went home and hooked it all up. I showed my 17-year-old how I looked in my getup, expecting his usual bluntness.
He said, “You look great, Mom. What are we gonna eat?”
My husband’s reaction as I got ready to use the CPAP the first night was so encouraging: “Well, you only have to wear that another 30, 40 years.” Apparently I gave him a look, and the combination of that and the mask on my face cracked him up.
I slept pretty well, although once when I woke up I saw my husband as far away from me as he could get, balancing on the edge of our king-size bed.
He assured me the next morning it wasn’t because I now have “a trunk.”
He’d better be nice to me — elephants never forget.
I did feel mentally sharper the next morning, and I read that using a CPAP for three months increases gray matter in patients’ brains.
I may not be sexy, but I could end up a lot smarter, with that little added perk of breathing.
Sounds worth it to me.