09
I lay in bed, my partner sleeping peacefully besides me. She’s never had any problems getting to sleep. I envy that easiness, that matter-of-factness about her going to bed. She feels no dread. She knows bed means sleep. It’s not something I’ve enjoyed my adult life – but especially now. The tiredness is there. The tiredness is excruciating, weighted in every muscle, heavy in my eyes, and clogged in my head. The tiredness should bully me into sleep. But whatever that last checkpoint is, I never make it. This is sixteen years ago. I’ve ditched Aropax – too abruptly, I learn retrospectively; and following bad medical advice from a psychiatrist…
03
I lie in bed listening to the steady hiss of the CPAP machine. About ten years ago, I was diagnosed with sleep apnea. That’s when you stop breathing during sleep so your brain panics and rouses you just enough to get the breathing restarted. Because that mini-awakening happens, you don’t descend into a deep, restorative sleep. After I was tested, I was told I had forty-seven instances an hour, although one sleep tech during one another test told me I kicked lots in my sleep, so that might’ve confused the results. One doctor said it was unusual for me to have a case of sleep apnea at all given my…