Recently I was informed by a person of my acquaintance that, in fact, they “did not believe” that I actually wake up 53 times an hour when I sleep unaided by my CPAP machine.
I was totally distracted for the rest of the day, because I was completely unable to comprehend how that person could have possibly interpreted this as an issue of belief.
Now, sure, if I had said something like, “Whenever I sleep I am awoken once a minute by tiny, winged elves who flutter down and tap me lightly on the forehead while simultaneously ringing The Golden Chime Of Enlightenment in order that I may uplink to the Mother Ship,” I can totally understand them not believing that. Because everyone knows that this process involves tiny, winged Cyborgs, not elves.
But seriously, there were electrodes, and wires, and highly calibrated pieces of Scientific Measuring Equipment, and a trained technician named Ken. It wasn’t like they just sat me down in a room with a random guy who looked at me, rubbed his temples, and then proclaimed, “I declare…that your number is…FIFTY THREE!”
Apparently this particular person doesn’t believe that sleep apnea is actually a true medical condition. “You know, that label was only created in like the last 20 years or so,” they said, in the condescending tone of someone who believes that I have just been unthinkingly caught up in the latest fad, like designer bottled waters or those hideous clogs called Crocs.
Right. Like I’m choosing to attire myself every night in enough contraptions to be assimilated by the Borg for fun-perhaps as a fashion statement or something.
Of course, if I were continuing to practice mindfulness and self-awareness, I might be inspired to ask why I immediately reacted with such defensiveness to this person’s opinion that doesn’t actually mean anything. But, um, I don’t want to, because sarcasm is just so much more fun.