Don't get me wrong, I love fall. It's my favorite season. The passage of time at warp speed is what's got my knickers in a twist.

Next month marks one year from the beginning of my journey into the wide world of sleep apnea. I had my first sleep clinic the night before The Boy and I were scheduled to leave for vacation. I was a little apprehensive, understandably. Figuring it wouldn't hurt, I didn't feel fear, but the hospital could have included more information in their brochure. (If they had been, would I still have gone through with it?) Happily, it turned out to be quite an experience, and the techs seemed to enjoy my constant barrage of questions. I must assume from that most people sit like lumps on logs, disgruntled guinea pigs being fitted for two dozen electrodes complete with adhesive that takes days to flake off afterward. I looked like I had a monumental case of dandruff.

I expected to have trouble dropping off in a strange place with wires and sensors all over me. There was even a video camera in the corner of the room at the ceiling. I had a call button for the tech on the overnight shift, and a speaker above my headboard for verbal contact in the dark if need be.

Considering all that hoopla, I fell asleep in 8 minutes. I slept all night, and don't remember waking once until someone popped into my room at 6:00 a.m., encouraging me to sit bolt upright. I'm sure the machines monitoring my vital signs jumped greatly :) She told me that she had to wake up the other 11 patients, so I was not allowed to fall back asleep. To do that would ruin all the information gathered through the night. I never figured out how that could be so. It's funny, the one question I never asked is the one that's bothered me for a full year.

Last October, I stopped breathing a total of 115 times for between 20-35 seconds each time through the course of the night. This behaviour caused Dr. Ferguson to diagnose me with Obstructive Sleep Apnea. It was that diagnosis that allowed me to be (hopefully) cured through surgery.

Tonight is my post-op clinic, so we'll see. I'm now an old-timer who knows the drill. Wish me luck.

Sweet dreams.

Posted at 8:16 a.m.