Round Two turned out to be a major freak-out experience -- and not because of the chartreuse sheets. Poly blend, too. But I was so motivated to get fitted for a CPAP machine, I wasn't going let bed not-linens drive me screaming from the room.
Actually, I did not run screaming from the room. Instead, I staggered out around 1:00 AM after being knocked over by a tsunami of unexpected feelings. Poor Tim the Tech. What to do with sobbing-to-the-point-of-hyperventilation me?
"Uh, do you want a tissue?"
Even in the midst of my meltdown I had enough consciousness -- oh please let's call it consciousness -- to take a tissue and let him continue to clutch-hug the tissue box. I managed to choke-whisper, "PTSD."
Ah, memories and hooray for knowing that I really did not need to retrieve and review all of them. Again.
"You gave it a good try," said Tim the Tech. "Some people leave the moment they see the mask."'
That's me! Giving it a good try!! Thanks and screw that, I thought while driving home in my pajamas.
There are very good reasons why I stop breathing and have since around age seven. Can $1100 of durable medical equipment fix that? We'll see. I've scheduled a chat with the doctor who went ahead and prescribed a CPAP anyway.
|The sheets? Bilious.|
|Tim the Tech|