The sleep study was more or less a six-hour endurance contest.
First, they tell me I have to sleep on my back or my insurance won't cover the test. Swell. I can't remember the last time I slept on my back without the assistance of general anesthesia.
I am a restless sleeper, so about every hour the technicians had to come in to reconnect the leads I had pulled off during my somnambular acrobatics. Finally, around 4 am, when they came in to untangle me a fifth time, they said they had collected enough data and that I could leave.
No coffee in the patient waiting area. Swell. I grabbed a cheese danish and retreated to the Sheetz down the road, where I quickly killed off an entire Extra Dark carafe, black. Thus energized- or at least conscious- I made it home, started the coffee pot and was welcomed by four happy shelties. They've been out, are having breakfast in their crates, and I'm heading upstairs to get my coffee.
Then my furry pals and I are going to sack out on my office floor until about noon.
I get to go through the sleep routine again once the inevitable diagnosis of sleep apnea is reached, and they fit me for one of those CPAP masks and machines.
Only the next time, I'm drinking coffee all day and taking my brief lunchtime nap. Screw 'em. If I'm going to have a rotten night, I may as well enjoy the day leading up to it.