Catlike
My ex’s gramma said “you’re like a cat. You can curl up and doze off anywhere.” I never told her that iit’s a skill that I developed to tap out of family conversations that were getting on my nerves. I fell asleep while standing in front of an exhibit at the National Museum of Scotland. I felt myself sway a little, and opened my eyes, playing it off that I was bending forward to further check the detail of the piece I stood before. When I recounted that story on Facebook,my friend Jen commented “Reasons To Take Your CPAP on Vacation for 100, Alex”.
I have severe sleep apnea, which means I stop breathing an average of 60 times a night. 23 years of marriage and Vale never mentioned the breaks in my snoring, but after a sleepover at my son’s house, I knew it was time to do something about it. “Mom, you stop breathing, then you SNORT and gasp and start breathing again.” I’d been banished to the balcony to sleep by my travel mates in Spain, had to go sleep behind a sofa in the lounge at a college dorm during a work trip, told that I was “broken and needed to get fixed” by a friend with whom I shared a night sleeping in her car. Recently, J nearly threw me out of the hotel room in Budapest, but we addressed my snores by me sleeping with my face next to h ear feet with a pillow over my head.
The Sleep Technician who gave me the CPAP machine suggested that I join a sleep apnea support group. “What does that look like?” I thought. “A bunch of people who doze off mid-sentence while talking about how tired they are?” My first night with my machine, I strapped on the face mask and played “Let’s Get It On” while dancing naked in front of my husband. “We can play deep sea diver and Merman!” After a few weeks, I asked “does this thing bother you?” Valentin replied “no, I’m not the one wearing it.” It has come in handy when I have “a headache and am not in the mood”. I go to bed first with my boyfriend C-Papi, an unmistakable sign that nothing ain’t happening tonight.
I admit that I do feel a difference in my energy levels when I use it. The soft puffs of air being forced into my lungs has become rather comforting, and I’ve learned how to arrange the tubing so I don’t get strangled with it while I sleep. However, it didn’t pass muster as a “must take” on this trip. It’s heavy, and the travel sized ones cost $1000, not covered by my insurance. I’ve alerted my WorkAway hosts that I snore so that they stow me away in the room farthest from the family’s lightest sleepers. However, I will be in a bunk room situation when I go to Albania, so I’ve been online lately, searching for the perfect gift for my roommates— noise canceling headphones.
