Image courtesy of Free Foto.
I think my past week can be summed up pretty well in the following two vignettes.
1. I have had my CPAP machine for almost a year now, and I am STILL excited every day about the fact that I can now actually sleep through the night without multiple episodes of near-suffocation.
Sadly, my poor little machine started having trouble over Christmas, and ever since it has been making noises not unlike those of a water buffalo attempting to squeeze itself into an extra-small bikini.
In what I can only describe as the cruelest of ironies, I was once again kicked out of our bedroom by my husband, this time due to the horrendous noises made by the machine I specifically got in order to stop being kicked out of the bedroom because of my snoring.
2. Ever since last Sunday night I have had a mysterious, and fairly excruciating, pain in my right side. I kept hoping that it would eventually go away, but of course it didn’t, and by the time I finally decided to get some help it was Thursday night. And my doctor doesn’t work on Fridays.
So I went to the urgent care center by my house, if only to be reassured that I was not seconds away from dying due to Spontaneous Explosion Of Your Internal Organs Syndrome.
After a thorough questioning regarding my symptoms the doctor moved on to the physical examination, tapping and poking away to see exactly where I hurt. Then she checked to see whether or not I was bloated.
“Oh my god, you’re like a drum!” she exclaimed. “I could play music on you!”
And then, for just a little bit-she did.
(So happily (not to mention embarrassingly), the pain turned out to be nothing that approximately 75,000 Gas-X dissolvable strips and a couple of bottles of Mylanta couldn’t help.)