In past posts I’ve complained that my husband snores. He sounds like he’s part freight train and part bear with a touch of Cujo. After several years of me bitching about it, he finally did a sleep study back in December. We waited for the results. Then we waited some more. Aaand waited more. He finally got the results last week.
They want him do ANOTHER sleep study, this time using a C-PAP machine, and it’s not scheduled until the end of the month. It took several weeks to get the results the first time and I can’t imagine waiting even longer. I know the sleep people have to go over lots of data which takes time but our 14-year-old senile cat could diagnose him with sleep apnea in a more timely manner.
My mom uses a C-PAP machine, which I call the Luke Skywalker mask, and it took her a lot less time to be diagnosed so I don’t know why my hubby’s doctor is taking his sweet ass time.
So my hubby has to wait until the end of the month to do the second sleep study, wait for the sleep study peeps to go over his results, wait even longer to get in to see his doctor to make it official, and then wait to get his Luke Skywalker machine, which I know needs to be programmed.
At this rate I’ll be a grandmother before my husband gets this machine so we can both finally get some sleep. What was so shocking to me is the doctor told my husband that he stops breathing 17 times an hour. Holy effity eff!
Not only do I have to worry about zombies attacking me while I lie in bed, I also have to lie there worrying that my hubs stops breathing every 3 and a half minutes.
What was even crazier was my husband was so blasé about it.
The first night of me knowing this information had me in a panic after we went to bed. Every few minutes I would kick him in the bum and frantically shake him by his shoulder to wake him up so I knew he was breathing. For some odd reason this bothered and annoyed him. Men!
Him: What are you doing?!
Me: I’m keeping you alive.
Me: You were snoring really loud and then you got quiet so I’m just making sure you’re still breathing.
Him: Obviously I’m still breathing because I’m talking to you now.
Me: Yeah, but if I didn’t shake you and kick you in the ass, you might be dead.
Me: What? Stop giving me that look.
Him: Even if I stop breathing, I’ll start again. It’s no big deal.
Me: Are you kidding me? What if this is the one time that you don’t start breathing again.
Him: Argh! I’ll be fine. *flips over and puts a pillow over his head* *lifts the pillow off of his head and turns back to me* And what are you still doing up? I can’t sleep when you’re on you laptop. I hear you typing.
Me: Seriously? *feels like taking his pillow and smacking him with it* You have been snoring really loud for the past two hours but I’ve been keeping you up?
Him: *flips back over* *a few minutes later he starts snoring again*
I kicked him in the bum, picked up his pillow, and smacked him in the face with it, all in the name of making sure he’s still breathing……yeah, that’s it! Uh huh…Yep.