Sleepy McWonderland the Slumberjack: 20 hours at a sleep clinic

Right now I feel like a full-time patient. I clocked in more than 26 hours this week at clinics, doctor’s offices, hospitals, and recovery groups.

On Monday, I checked into the Slumber McWonderland sleep disorder center (as I like to call it). It wasn’t the best night of sleep I’ve ever had. It was challenge getting comfortable in the windowless surveillance room. Maybe it’s because I knew they were watching me, but more likely it was due to the bedtime rituals of a sleep clinic. After I did my usual (well, let’s say “frequent”) washing-grooming-pajamas routine, the technician taped six electrodes to my face, seven to my head, two to my chest and another pair to my legs (that’s 17 so far). An air tube was attached to my nose, straps affixed around my waist and mine bosom, something was taped to my neck, and some contraption with a red light was wrapped around my left index finger. I think that was all, but I can’t really say for sure. Everything had its own wire and all the wires were plugged into this switchboard-gadget next to my bed. I admit I got a little tangled more than once. I kind of felt like a robot. Or maybe a terminal patient. Maybe a Cyborg. I don’t know. Anyway, it wasn’t the best sleep I’ve ever had but, lucky for me, the next day was my nap study! Hooray!

After taking ANOTHER shower in the morning (the nurse told me to, maybe as punishment for being such a pain in the ass to rouse), I had some breakfast and waited around for my next nap. Only two hours after I got up, it was naptime. Hooray! This time only my head and heart were monitored, a meager 14 wires protruding from my body and neatly bundled into gadget that I could wear as a necklace between naps (so I could walk around and be wakeful and crap like that). Anyway, I was given 20 minutes to snooze and it took me a while to fall asleep (performance anxiety being what it is), but I got there in the end. Twenty-minute naps. Whoever heard of such a thing? I can’t remember that last time I napped for less than two hours.

Well, 90 minutes later it was naptime again and nap number two was quickly slumberful, as was nap number three. My 20 minutes always expired right in the middle of a deep dreaming sleep, Roooaaarrr! so I would spend the next 90 minutes eagerly anticipating the next nap. Well, by the time my fourth naptime came, I had started fretting over my dead mobile phone and getting a ride home from the clinic, so nap number four didn’t go as well, but by that time it was 5:00 p.m., and my technician decided that I had napped enough and sent me home for the day. Er, for the night? I came home having done nothing all day but sleep, but not really sleeping much, and I kind of felt like shit. AND I had adhesive all over my face and hair, so, yes, I took another shower. I felt like I had been released from prison or maybe freed from the Matrix and since the sleep study, I’ve been taking walks instead of taking naps. I’m no Cyborg. But, gosh, I’m tired.

The junkiest jobs...

With hair and clothes full of glitter and feathers, I am finally finished working with the "junk artists" at my church art camp. Here is a sampling of some of my favorite works of art this week. 

exhausting: carboard tubes and macaroni

Today was the first day of Kid's Art Camp at my parents' church. I was not the most enthusiastic volunteer, but I'll admit that I was content enough to be wrangled into teaching the "Junk Art" class. Is this, perhaps, the only FOUR HOUR vbs-style camp in existence? FOUR HOURS. Those parents owe us big time.

Anyway, "teaching" junk art is kind of a joke. You can say and instruct and direct and inspire as much as you want, but in the end, 7 out of 8 kids just want to glue feathers and straws to plastic containers, regardless of the end result. They revel in collecting and hoarding the kind of crap that their parents would probably make them throw away. I guess the main thing I share in common with kids is the magical treasuring of useless beads, trinkets, clippings, scraps, and schnipplejes (Dutch vernacular) that always seem to have so much future potential and almost never amount to any use.

...But having 17 kids for 45 minutes, three times a day is all it takes to remind me how ill suited I am to ever pursue a career in teaching. Whew. If those who cannot do, teach; Those who love to do, should NEVER be forced to teach small children. Only four more days left. FOUR MORE DAYS. My chances of survival were far better when I was out in the wilderness for 5 days.

Yadda yadda vacay

You can see some pictures of my rafting trip in my photo album via the link to the right...
Words wouldn't do it justice, although the pictures don't really suffice either.