Pragmatic

In high school, a teacher who knew me and my family, referred to me as pragmatic. It wasn't a compliment.

It may have been related to my belief then that people protesting nuclear arms on a train track are kind of asking for a bloody accident.

I have been thinking about being pragmatic lately with regard to a sleep apnea mask and diet.

I would like two think these will solve an awful lot of problem: the mask solving my tiredness, inability to sleep, restless legs and my need to nap, which will give me back hours of my life. The diet will cure  all stomach woes and my lack of energy.

But what I really think is that those are pipe dreams.

Sleeping without a T-437 Safety Command Console

I have sleep apnea. It has been quite minor, and one of the reasons I bought an adjustable bed was to further minimize it.

I took a at-home sleep study last month to confirm that and met with a doctor the other day to go over the results. But before I saw him, I started getting emails every day saying the test results were on the portal and to look at them.

The doctor would explain the results, so I tried to ignore he emails.  But they were persistent.

Finally, I did look, mainly to stop the emails.

My sleep apnea had become severe.

The doctor was very pleasant and informed, and I am going to go to a sleep lab to try masks. They said they are better now.

But this is what I expected (the doctor would be the guy from Oak Ridge):

Abnormal normal

When I was 9 or 10, I ran around the house, swung off a branch in the front yard, fell on my butt, thought it was fun and did it again.

The second time, I fell on my arm and broke it.

This was on Father's Day. I returned to the ER this Father's Day.

I went for a short bike ride, and seven hours later, my heart rate was still racing and I was out of breath.

They found nothing, and in three hours I was OK, so they sent me home.

My sister suggested that maybe this is the new normal.

I emailed my cardiologist and he said that it's pretty unremarkable given my body's failings.

In other words, the abnormal new normal.

My kingdom for a PopTart

I am about one week into a two-week course of meds and a new diet. I seem to alternate between starving and nauseated.

My stomach has not been working right for a while, so I had a test that showed issues (nothing deadly). The diet and drugs are supposed to fix things.

I hope so. I really miss carbs and sugar and non-berry fruit. And I did not know eggs were so healthy. I am eating multiple eggs a day.

Mostly, I just want a PopTart.

No fun

I left my head-shrinker last week feeling miserable. On the way home, I figured out why.

She was trying to get me to commit to doing something fun, and it was making me frustrated.

Here's why:

I am at all opposed to fun, but just physically, I am struggling to hang on. I've no time or energy for  fun.

Do it yourself

If I were  billionaire, which I wanna be so freakin' bad, I would hire a butler to wait on my every whim, and I would never try to do things myself.

But I am not, and I need so much help I feel the need to do some things on m own rather than bother people all the time.

That's why I have a cut and a bump on my forehead.

I smacked it into the lift this morning, picking up my glasses.

It hurt, but I didn't bother anyone.

Make mine Marvel but not three hours long

Avengers: Endgame came out more than a month ago. I haven't seen it.

I'd like to.

But three hours is an hour longer than my bladder can take. Even two is pressing it.

I'd have to leave midmovie, negotiate a darkened theater and two doors to and from the bathroom. I am not fast, and I would have to pray for no problems.

I think I'll wait for the DVD.

Diddle, Diddle, Dumpling, My Son Matt

I have been wearing the ankle violator most nights and the regular left brace most days I am home, ao the morning I thought let's wear both braces to work.

I am sure you can deduce what happened, but I assure you that you can't guess the extent.

As I stood to transfer to the toilet, my shoe came off.

I managed to sit down and I went to the bathroom with one shoe off and  one shoe on.

Then I tried to get my shoe on.

My foot was in the brace,   so first, I tried to get my shoe on without removing the brace. No go.

Then I tried removing the brace, which involves hiking up my pants leg to undo the brace strap.

I finally got it off, but I still had to put my shoe on.

Keep in mind that I am doing this all one-handed, so I can hold on. When I put it like that, of course I couldn't get my shoe on. And I couldn't.

I tried standing up, but my left foot was sliding.

I am not particularly proud and frequently ask for help, but there is a line. For me, it was calling for someone to shod me while on the toilet.

So I put my left foot on the loose shoe and stood successfully. I had determined not to tempt fate and just pull up my boxers. I'd pull up my jeans once my shoes were on and I could stand safely.

But ...

When  I sat in my chair, the loose shoe flipped into the adjoining stall out of reach.

Somehow  I got my jeans up, then went into the main part of the bathroom, opened the adjoining stall, had Fame get the shoe, and went to put it on.

It was too much, so I took the shoe to a friend. But she had started a position in another office today.

Back at my desk, I got it on and cursed the brace.