12/12/24

This is a journal. I didn't understand that at the beginning, but that's what this is. In case anyone who has recently stopped by wonders what I'm doing, that's it. I didn't intend for it to be that way, but I didn't intend a lot of things. It doesn't feel appropriate for Facebook but I'm OK being inappropriate. Feel free to take a break.

I'm going to have a sleep study, damn. I don't want to, and I really, REALLY don't think it'll be productive, but I can't refuse. It's something.

And it might be useful, I don't know. I obviously don't have obstructive sleep apnea -- I make no sounds at night, no gasping, no snoring. Central sleep apnea is when the brain is mismanaging the sleep process; happens more with men, and more with people over 60, although the latter is always problematic (lots of things can happen over 60 to complicate the diagnosis).

I can't argue with the logic, though. I have this "mysterious" (I think there's an answer but pay no attention to the patient) drop in oxygen saturation. It does occur at night but also during the day.

And I'm sleepy a lot, duh. I've been that way for two years, but my O2 has also been this way. It feels like a fishing expedition, but I do twitch and move a lot at night now, and that's also worth checking out. And if the study is positive in some way, that might be an indication for some oxygen therapy.

I've been trying to avoid this, the chasing of a diagnosis in lieu of shrugging and saying, We have no idea. But I'm very interested in a solution or at least a therapy, so I'm all in for the moment.

Because it's getting worse. Maybe it's temporary, maybe progressive, but it's uncomfortable and frightening to feel as though I'm losing my mind.

Brain glitches happen dozens of times a day now, dozens. I worry constantly that I'm forgetting to do something; yesterday I had to quit a volunteer job I've been doing for years because I just can't anymore; the stress from confusion is really not good for me at this point. I delete emails when I intend to save them, etc.

It's lonely inside here. I feel like a drama queen, telling Julie about how I forgot how to do this or that, left something undone after starting it, etc. I imagine she's rolling her eyes at me (she's not; this is paranoia, not sure if it's understandable, maybe). Suck it up, buddy. Old age is a massacre, as Philip Roth said. You're not special.

I don't feel special. I just feel like hell, and so I might as well sleep on it and see what it shows. Onward.