Slept better last night. Of course, I had to get up to pee, and then I had a coughing fit when I got a tickle in my throat. I didn’t take anything before or during my sleep, though.
Yesterday’s virtual appointment went well. The doctor was from here, and I didn’t have any problems understanding her. We discussed my symptoms, and I’m expecting the tester to arrive on Saturday. They’re going to test for oxygen levels, heart rate, snoring, body position, and airflow.
Still a little worried that there’s a curse on my sleep and that there could be other things wrong as well. Until I get a CPAP (assuming no surprises are sprung on me in the meantime), adjust to treatment, and feel better, I’m not going to, well, rest easy. Hopefully, I’m well on my way to getting this resolved, though—even if it means a new health issue is waiting right around the corner to last for who knows how many years. I just hope whatever it is isn’t nearly as debilitating as this has been.
Tumblr doesn’t delete pins like Pinterest, but they wanted to “label” some of my digital friends’ pics, so I just made them private instead.
Aly would be 44 today if she were still alive. Damn, do I miss her! It really hasn’t gotten any easier with time like I thought it would be. I thought that by now she would fade into a distant memory, but she hasn’t. So many things I wish I could share with her all the time. I wonder what her life would be like if she were still alive. She would probably still be battling health and sleep issues, and I wonder how far her teaching would have gone. Would she still be with Cam, assuming he really did exist? Would we have met by now?
I found a couple of accounts of her father on Facebook and reached out to both of them. But I don’t expect to get a reply.
It was definitely rough for a few days there. I felt shitty both physically and emotionally. Sometimes I wanted to cry, thinking it would make me feel better and purge those negative emotions from my system. But the tears just wouldn’t quite come. As I’ve said before, that’s one of the “side effects” of EMDR. You’re not nearly as emotional, and you don’t tend to panic as easily, which is great. But then, when you feel you could use a good cry, it’s hard to get the waterworks going at times. It’s almost like my emotions are half clogged, just like my sinuses.
Sometimes I’m still torn between writing only on Blogger where I have a smaller audience, and making updates on Bluefly while keeping everything else private and as a backup. I just want to write for myself. But then I remember all the cool people I’ve met, and I don’t want to give that up entirely. If something is that private, I just won’t share it.
Later…
Tom is outside now, doing a little yard work, and the rat is in the closet eating a piece of popcorn I purposely dropped for her to find. Why can’t I have friends who care about me as much as I at least try to care about them? Again, I miss the hell out of Aly. We both cared about what was going on in each other’s lives.
Like always, though, I text V, and she tells me about her health problems but doesn’t ask a single question about mine. I still like her otherwise. And she is who she is. So I’m not gonna call her on it. I’ve already told her I like to be asked questions in return and dropped other hints. She’s far too intelligent to have missed them, so fuck it.
Anyway, if I must have problems, I wish I could trade in mine for hers—even with my fear of losing weight because of the medication and how it would react. Instead of fatigue, fatigue, and more fatigue, I wish I couldn’t keep much food down and lose a lot of weight like she has. She went from 190 pounds to 115. I’d settle for 120 or even 130. But apparently something likes me to be fat and tired. That much is obvious. If not, it’s still what’s in my cards and what’s meant to be, anyway.
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