The Sleep Clinic: part 3

I went to back to the sleep clinic "one last time." They used this visit to fit me with a CPAP mask. Yay.The first part of the evening was the same as the last time. Howard acted like he didn't even know me. Nothing. Heartless.This time they strapped a Vader mask on me that covered my nose. It was connected to a 6 foot long hose which plugged into the CPAP machine and blew warm moist air into your nose. It's this air pressure that keeps your airway open. You must keep your mouth closed with this type of mask, othewise the air escapes. This presents a interesting side effect: you can't talk while you're wearing the mask.They wanted to determine how much pressure was needed to keep me from snoring. As I slept, Howard and friends monitored my sleep (well, snoring), and slowly increased the air pressure until I stopped snoring.I was pretty uncomfortable, but I was able to fall asleep. (The mask is really for my <shameless_blog_plug>wife</shameless_blog_plug>. I have no trouble sleeping but she keeps insisting that I snore.)

In the middle of the night I woke up in a panic. I thought is was 6:00AM, but it was only 11:45PM. Shit. The CPAP machine was blowing a phenomenal amount of air into my nose and I felt like I couldn't breathe. Funny...'cause I certainly had plenty of air.

I tried to pull the mask off, but the head strap stopped me. It was too dark to see, so I couldn't find the clip to release the strap. Fuck!

I couldn't talk. I opened my mouth to call for help, and all of the air came gushing out. I felt like I could've floated a ping pong ball over my mouth. Bernoulli would've been proud.

Anyway, I knocked on the headboard, which is sort of the international signal for panic in a sleep clinic. A voice came over the intercom. "Yes John?" Can't talk. Can't talk! I waved with my free hand. Don't panic. Don't panic! OK, panicking! My other hand was busy trying to rip the fucking mask off my head. "I'll be right there John..."

Nurse Betty came to my rescue and pressed the release clip on my mask. The mask came flying off...Whoosh!

me: "What the hell? Is the machine broken or something?!"
Betty: "We were experimenting with a pretty high pressure..."
me: "What was the pressure setting?"
Betty: "11"How Spinal Tap-ian.

me: "11 what?"
Betty: "Oh, I don't know. It's just set at 11."

I pictured all of those third-shift jackasses watching me on the monitor and making bets on what air pressure level would wake me up. 'Cause it was Monday and they were bored. I fuckin' hate this place. 11. The max pressure was 11. Did you win Howard?

Dyslexic flare-up: I never actually saw the word CPAP written until I was asked to fill out a questionnaire in the morning. Wherever they used the word CPAP I read it as CRAP. It was pretty amusing. "Did sleep better on CRAP?" "Did the CRAP mask fit properly?"

Fear Hank

Hank is gonna kick the shit out of you if you don't read this.

It's funny (ok, probably just for me). I really like the 11 rules part.

Goin' Legit

Hey what do you think of my mugshot? Uncle "The Enabler" Gary snapped it with his tricked-out digital camera. Thanks, man.

See, it's funny because I asked for your comments, but I didn't allow comments on this post. Thus, thwarting any nasty anonymous interweb bashers. I think He-Man said it best when he said, "I have the power!"

The Lazy Crossdresser

Last Saturday in the mall near my home I saw a crossdresser. In this case, it was a man dressed up as a women. Well, I'm pretty sure it was man. I think he still had all of his parts, but I didn't ask or investigate any further. He was about 6 feet tall, not including the heels he was wearing. He was hanging out in one of those tween jewelry stores. I was just walking by, I swear, I wasn't cruisin' for chicks.

It wasn't that shocking for me to see a crossdresser. But then I started thinking. I don't think I've ever seen a real live crossdresser before. I have seen people crossdress as a joke¹ and in movies².

Then on Sunday, I was at our local K-Mart and I saw the same guy hangin' out at the K-Mart Cafe. He was wearing the same clothes, but this time he didn't have his wig on. No on the wig, but yes on the huge hoop earrings, and the six pounds of make-up. What an amateur. If I ever crossdress I'm not gonna get sloppy and do a half-assed job. I'll stuff my genitals up into my body cavity like a pro. And I'll never take my wig off in public.

¹This one time I surprised my wife by coming home early from work. I walked in to the house and found her listening to the Indigo Girls and wearing my jock strap. I was weirded out at first, but then she told me it was joke. We laughed and laughed. I sill don't know how did she knew I'd be coming home early. Nary a bother.

²Remember that time Crocodile Dundee was talkin' to a Shelia at the bar. I knew she wasn't really a Shelia, but he didn't. Then he grabbed her in the crotch. That was funny.

Lily's Birthday

So it's Lily's birthday on Saturday and I don't know what to get her. I always wait until the last minute. I do this every year---you'd think I'd learn.Maybe I'll write some poetry for her. Chicks dig poetry.

I hope you don't mind...
I hope you don't mind...
That I put down in words...

No, sounds too familiar.

If you have any suggestions, please let me know.

JavaScript Land

I started teaching myself JavaScript over the weekend. I still have much to learn. The "Links" and "Recent Movies" on the right-side are generated with JavaScript. Unfortunately, the formatting is only correct when viewed with Firefox. I'm working on it.

The Sleep Clinic: part 2

The Hook Up

All the patients sit in the lounge area while they await their turn to get "hooked up." The lounge has a TV, a kitchen table, and a full kitchen with a stocked refrigerator (sweet). Everyone was watching TV in their PJs. Except for this one woman who was playing solitary (I wanna say "by herself", but I realize that's redundant) at the kitchen table. It didn't take me long to figure out why she was there. She kept nodding off playing cards. Fascinating. I found myself watching her more than the TV. She never dropped her cards.

I was the last patient to get hooked up, so I was able to get an idea of what to expect. You know in Grand Theft Auto, when you wreck the boss's car and you have to get it repaired? You drive the car to a body shop and pull it into the garage. The garage door closes. You then hear a cacophony of sounds as the invisible mechanics repair the car. Finally the garage door opens and you are presented with a beautifully restored automobile.

The hook up was like that, but in reverse.

One by one, patients would be called into the Wiring Room, where Howard the Wiring Technician would worked them over for about 30 minutes. My mind started racing when I heard, of all things, an air compressor kick on. After their 30 minutes of Howard-time, the hapless patients would emerge resembling a picture of an animal in a PETA brochure. They were covered in brightly colored wires and electrodes, all of which were plugged into a central wiring harness which was hung around their necks.

My Turn

Howard wasn't a talker, but boy did he scrub hard. Each spot on my body where he needed to glue an electrode had to be exfoliated. Howard was extremely thorough in the exfoliation department. He proceeded to glue 13 electrodes to my head. Each time he would glue an electrode on, he would make sure the glue was dry by blowing compressed air on it. Air compressor. Got it. Four of the electrodes were glued into my hair. Nice. Then he glued one electrode on my chest and three on each leg. It was a little awkward for me when Howard had to fish the wires for my legs up my pants and out at my waist, but Howard didn't seem to mind.

When it was time for bed, I thought it was be a simple procedure as they plugged my wiring harness in to the bedside computer.

I was wrong.

They added even more things to hook up. Going to bed took about 20 minutes as Howard and his assistant hooked me up to even more sensors. Two more needed to be glued to my chest. A microphone was glued to my neck. A sensor was clamped to my index finger. A rubber oxygen nose sensor was taped to my nose. A metal wire air temperature sensor was also taped to my nose. I found this last one to be extremely uncomfortable...two little metal wire probes had to be inserted into my nostrils. Yuck. And finally they strapped a motion sensor around my chest with a belt. Unbelievable.

There was no way I'd be able to sleep.

I was sound asleep within three and a half minutes.

Good Morning

I awoke the next morning sans rectal bleeding and my pants still on. Bonus. The doctor showed me the various graphs derived from the 500 sensors they had on me. He pointed to the sine wave that represented my breathing. Nice and even, smaller and smaller, and finally flatline from 30 seconds to a minute. Apnea. That was weird to see that.

The doctor wants me to wear a breathing mask. To have the breathing mask properly configured, I have to spend another night at the sleep clinic. Yey. So, I made a reservation for another one night stay at the Hotel Howard.

The Sleep Clinic: part 1

A few days ago I had an appointment with the Sleep Clinic (my wife claims that I've been snoring...whatever...and beer kills brain cells). This was just the pre-check, to see if I was worthy of a full sleep study. I am, but I'm getting ahead of myself.The nurse was and idiot. Cute, but she had a room temperature IQ. She tried to get a weight measurement, but she couldn't figure out which direction she had to move the little counter weights on the scale. After a minute or so, I adjusted the weights myself. She tried measure my heart rate, but was checking on the wrong side of my wrist. I was so amused. I decided not to help her this time. I just sat and watch the clock. 3 minutes. Wow. She then tried to take my blood pressure. She inflated the arm thingy (is there a name for it?) three times. After the third time she cocked her head a little and said "125 over 70?". "Sounds good to me..." I said. The last measurement was circumference of my neck. I was hoping for a nice snug in-seam measurement...but oh well. She measured my neck by placing the measuring tape on the outside of my shirt collar. "19 1/2?"I finally got to see the doctor. He went on and on about the health risks associated with snoring. Blah. Blah. Blah. Yeah yeah I get it. I'm here aren't I? All his talking was making me sleepy. So I steered the conversation away from my health problems and toward the sleep study they were going to schedule for me.

He went on and on about all the wires they'd hook up to me. I asked about the test results. More specifically, would I be allowed to have the video tape. He went back to talking and I went back to not listening. I found it really hard not laugh out loud as I thought about the following:

• I'm gonna wake up naked from the waist down and bleeding out my ass.


• While watching the grainy green night vision video tape of me sleeping, I'll see twenty minute segment of the janitor pranking me with what appears to be a broom handle.


• There will be detail coverage of me humping the pillow.

The sleep study is tonight. Wish me luck.