After suspecting for years that I have sleep apnea, I finally got around to going to a pulmonologist and discussing it with him. He agreed that my symptoms sounded apnea-ish and recommended that I do an overnight sleep study at my local hospital.

I wasn’t afraid to do the study or anything like that, but I did want to get the best sleep possible since I had three job interviews scheduled for the next day. Error in judgment? Perhaps, but there wasn’t much I could do about it because I’d have to wait at least a month if I wanted to reschedule the sleep study.

Generally, these studies take about 9 hours—an hour to put on and take off the equipment, 7-8 hours to sleep (or perhaps I should say “sleep”), and a little bit of extra time to fill out forms. If you’re not an early riser, you’re out of luck, because at my sleep clinic the wake-up time was between 5:30 at 6 a.m. Luckily, I had to get up early anyway, so it wasn’t a big deal.

When I arrived at the clinic, the sleep technician greeted me and explained what she was going to do—put about a zillion wires on almost every part of my body. She explained to me that the wires on my arms and legs would monitor my physical movements, the wires on my chest would monitor my breathing, and the wires on my head would monitor my brain activity and sleep levels. Read More »

Days as a Freshman: 106
Mood: Confused

“It’s cold outside, huh?”

Rebecca and I walked slowly down a carpeted corridor, our boots scratching softly on the grey rug. My cheeks stung from a wind that had moved completely into winter, stretching the skin too tight against my face.

“It’s freezing. Winter’s really here, I guess.” Rebecca kept talking, all the energy she had kept bottled up during our shopping trip pushing out and covering my silence.

I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t sure I could say anything. By the time Rebecca stopped and knocked on a door covered in paper flowers, I was sure I had gone dumb with anxiety.

“Okay. Ready?” Rebecca cleared her throat, her mittened hands opening and closing.

Before I could answer, the door opened, almost as though the person on the other side had known we were coming, had been waiting. Sammy stood in front of us, small, thin, covered in a fuzzy blue blanket, the lamp on her desk throwing a lightness around her blond head. Even though it looked like she hadn’t slept in a while, there was no denying the cute, popular superstar she had once been.

Before it all. Read More »