Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Inside The Window...
...or Through the Looking Glass?
I am inside the one-month window until my surgery! I can barely believe it is so close now. As surgery approaches, my choral group's concert season and my unit of CPE are coming to an end. These things are all somewhat bittersweet for me, especially CPE.
Within the safety of my CPE peer group I have found acceptance, support and love as I have completed the unit, learned how to minister and listen better, and worked toward getting my healthy habits established prior to surgery. These people, all of whom I now consider to be friends, have contributed so much to my life in these past few months that I find myself at a loss as to what I am going to do without their weekly presence in seminar and PPI (personal and professional identity, the part of class when we speak freely and with no specific agenda). And the real surprise is that I am already thinking about when I can do another unit! As tired as I've been during the unit with so much reading, writing, nights on call and extremes in emotion, it has still given me much more than it has taken out of me.
Next week I go in for the big 4-hour diet class. The Hubs will go with me because he will be helping me during my recovery from surgery. I expect another weigh-in at that time and I am trying/praying to shave off a few more pounds between now and then. At this class they will probably also start my "extremely low-calorie pre-surgery diet" which will no doubt be...challenging. But it's temporary until surgery, and then everything will change.
Everything.
I don't pretend that I'll sail through surgery and recovery, and I don't expect that this process is going to be easy. What I do look forward to is beginning the transformation, experiencing the world and myself in new ways. It will be a journey unlike any other of my life, much as CPE has been....rigorous, unfamiliar, exhilarating and a step toward a larger goal.
Through the looking glass indeed.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Back to the Future...
...Or Shrinking My Way Into A New/Old Wardrobe
An eagerly-awaited package arrived in the mail the other day. I am planning/hoping to attend the triennial conference of my music fraternity at the end of July, and there are a couple of dressy events planned, as always. One is a Rose and Grey dinner (the Fraternity colors) and many attendees wear those colors to the dinner. I ordered myself a very pretty silvery-grey dress to wear, and I ordered it in the smaller size I expect to fit me by then! When the dress arrived I was almost giddy over how pretty it is, and how nice I'm hoping I will look in it.
I went to the conference 3 years ago in 2009, and probably at my highest weight/largest size ever. The Rose and Grey dinner was something I approached with some trepidation because of what I wore and how it looked. I chose a loose, flowy rose-colored dress with matching wrap that I fashioned into a drapey cowl-like situation in the front, hoping to make it at least a little bit flattering. At my size and shape...well, you've heard of the proverbial pink elephant, right? Yeah, pretty much. Another event is the memorial ceremony in which we celebrate the lives of our members who have passed away. It is a moving and meaningful occasion for which we dress in white. I have a very pretty white dress hanging in my closet that has been way too small for a very long time. Empire-waist, eyelet bodice with a long, flowing, lettuce-edged skirt that reaches to my ankles. It's one of the prettiest, most ladylike dresses I've ever owned. I am hoping that I'll be fitting into it by conference time as well.
Like most women with weight issues, I have clothes in lots of different sizes. LOTS. Jeans, for example. They range in sizes ranging from "Curvy-but-cute" to "How-did-I-ever-let-myself-get-this-freakin'HUGE?!". There are t-shirts and sweatshirts I adore that haven't been on my body in forever because to try to put them on would result in a scene from The Incredible Hulk. "Don't make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry", followed by fabric shredding from the strain of trying to cover too much body. I still own my favorite sweater from college, and when I lost 65 pounds in 1994-95, I was able to fit into it again, but not for too long. A black velvet number with a plunging neckline from that 1990's period of shrinkage hangs in the deep recesses of my closet. It is a classic style that has held up well over the years, and now I have hope that I'll be able to fit myself into it again someday.
Stepping back into some of my old, smaller clothes will be like stepping back into time in some ways. It will be interesting to remember how my life was the last time I was at those sizes, sort of like when I hear an old song that transports me to an earlier era. But I realize that, even though I'll be shrinking, I won't be going back to exactly the body I had when I wore that size before, because age does things to change a body, whatever size it is. My boobs and butt have dropped, and drooped (and as we all know, the bigger they are, the harder they fall!). I might be able to back myself into a size 12, but my shape will most likely be different because of gravity, hormones, and time. I'll be able to fit into the black velvet dress again...but my cleavage may not look as great as it used to. And it did look great. ;-)
It's not about reversing time or regaining lost youth. It's about doing the best I can with what is left of my life, feeling better and getting stronger. I am prepared for the eventuality that most of my parts aren't going to spring back to the places they used to be! Zipping myself back into those old Levi's will be good enough for me.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Baby Steps,Giant Leaps and Taking Flight
Wednesday 3-28-12
Why growing up is a lifelong process
The last week has been INSANE. I was out late every night due to rehearsals and concerts with my city's symphony orchestra. A select group of female singers from the larger group I perform with had the opportunity to sing in the final movement of Gustav Holst's orchestral suite, "The Planets". (Google it or listen on youtube.) The music is ethereal and lovely in the final movement, called "Neptune---The Mystic". It is a short but taxing little bit of music. Its saving grace is that the composer uses the female choirs like instruments (no lyrics) and stipulated when he wrote the piece that the voices were to be heard and not seen. So we sang from the wings, which meant no uncomfortable concert attire, no worrying about bad hair or if lipstick was on straight. That part was great fun, as was the comeraderie among us ladies backstage. Still, late nights and early mornings drained my energy a little.
Saturday night I had nothing extracurricular after work, so I was able to go home and get to bed reasonably early. The extra sleep was much-needed because Sunday I was on call at the hospital for CPE and up pretty much all night. That was followed by seminar, during which I presented my mid-unit review, and then music practice, so except for a couple of power naps at the hospital, I was up for 36 hours. Home late Monday night and up early Tuesday morning to sing for the monthly in-service at the hospice where I volunteer and then a few more hours of patient visits at the hospital.
I got up yesterday morning feeling like I needed to go see my Dad and Bonus Mom. I called to see if they'd be home when I got done at the hospital and asked what all was going on with them. Bonus Mom told me that my northern uncle had passed away, Dad's only surviving brother. I went and visited with them and stayed out way too late...but it was worth it in lots of ways. We were able to talk about my uncle and share memories and laughs. I also decided to go ahead and let them in on my surgery plans. It went a lot better than I expected. Dad was positive and he had some questions, and a couple of times he began to sound a little preachy. I was able to divert that before it got uncomfortable by simply telling him that "my doctors and I have got that covered". I know he is skeptical because he has seen my efforts at weight loss fail before. And he clearly still views me as a child in some ways, not trusting me to make the changes that need to be made. Some of his questions were:
"Has a doctor discussed basic lifestyle changes with you at all?"
(Well, duh.)
"Yes, and as a result I am off caffeine, off carbonation, down 25 pounds and getting lots of exercise when I am at the hospital."
"What exactly are they going to do to you?"
"The surgeon will laparoscopically go in and remove a big part of my stomach, including the part that releases the hunger hormone, then he will rework my intestines so that they won't absorb as many calories from the smaller amounts of food I'll be able to eat post-surgery, separating the limbs until the last 8-10 feet. So I am having what's called a restrictive and malabsorptive procedure, which will help me to lose more weight faster and be more likely to keep it off."
"The Hubs going to go with you?"
Again, duh. "Of course he is."
"Is there anything we can do to help you?"
"Sure! Keep us both in your prayers as I continue to prepare, and then afterward while I recover."
Of course, there was more to the conversation, but he didn't have any questions that I was not prepared to answer. Looking back to last summer when I went to speak to him about pursuing a unit of CPE and he wanted to give me another fat lecture and I was a wreck, I can see how far I've come both physically and emotionally. The past week that I described earlier, the late nights, lack of sleep and all the physical activity being on call? I don't know if I could have done it a year ago without crashing completely.
I've made progress. I see the late nights and fatigue as baby steps. Giant leaps have come in my adjustments to the physical and spiritual demands of being on call and juggling whatever comes in a given overnight shift.
Learning about my uncle's death and then telling Dad about my surgery and not falling all to pieces? THAT was like taking flight! I have a long way to go and I know it. I also know now that I am a lot stronger than I thought. I can do this.
I can fly.
Friday, March 9, 2012
Small Bills, Please
Friday 3-9-12
Why surgery is not a cheap fix...
While The Hubs and I do a great deal of our banking online, I have also been paying many of my weight-loss related bills by check. It is old school, requiring more effort and thought than simply clicking a mouse a few times. It also makes the expenses more real in my mind than they might be otherwise.
Today, for example, I wrote checks to the hospital and a diagnostic lab for tests I had undergone as part of getting cleared for surgery. I wrote three checks totaling nearly $425. This is not small change in my world! As I wrote in my last post, I used our entire tax refund and then some to pay my program fee for surgery and follow-up care in the year after surgery. That was $3,000, and it is by no means all-inclusive.
These are not small bills.
Thank God I am not a self-pay patient! The total costs for weight-loss surgery can be staggering, ranging from $18,000 and up depending on the procedure needed, where it is done and the doctor who does it. Insurance companies that cover weight-loss surgery cover it at different rates and have different criteria for a patient to qualify. A friend of mine who works in law enforcement told me that their insurance requires them to pay a $5,000 program fee out-of-pocket. Some insurance companies cover nearly everything, while others cover nothing at all.
One might wonder why a person would go to such extremes and expenses "just to lose weight". I used to be one of those who wondered about it. I now understand that surgery is truly a last resort for those of us who have tried everything else without achieving permanent success. I used to be able to lose pounds more readily, when I was younger, but I was never able to keep them off. Now that I am not as young, it is even more difficult just to lose the pounds in the first place!
I have to make a lot of changes in the ways I think about food, my body, size and shape, and what it takes to get myself healthier. Among other things, I have to realize and acknowledge that the expenses are worth it...
that I am worth it. (L'Oreal has been saying it since I was a child, but they were only talking about the surface issues that could magically be addressed by purchasing their products. How convenient.)
So today, as I slip a big chunk of money into the mail slot, my mantra will be:
I am worth it. My health is worth it. My self-esteem is worth it. Easing the strain on my hips, knees and ankles is worth it. Feeling better and enjoying my life are worth it. I am worth it.
I am worth it.
Why surgery is not a cheap fix...
While The Hubs and I do a great deal of our banking online, I have also been paying many of my weight-loss related bills by check. It is old school, requiring more effort and thought than simply clicking a mouse a few times. It also makes the expenses more real in my mind than they might be otherwise.
Today, for example, I wrote checks to the hospital and a diagnostic lab for tests I had undergone as part of getting cleared for surgery. I wrote three checks totaling nearly $425. This is not small change in my world! As I wrote in my last post, I used our entire tax refund and then some to pay my program fee for surgery and follow-up care in the year after surgery. That was $3,000, and it is by no means all-inclusive.
These are not small bills.
Thank God I am not a self-pay patient! The total costs for weight-loss surgery can be staggering, ranging from $18,000 and up depending on the procedure needed, where it is done and the doctor who does it. Insurance companies that cover weight-loss surgery cover it at different rates and have different criteria for a patient to qualify. A friend of mine who works in law enforcement told me that their insurance requires them to pay a $5,000 program fee out-of-pocket. Some insurance companies cover nearly everything, while others cover nothing at all.
One might wonder why a person would go to such extremes and expenses "just to lose weight". I used to be one of those who wondered about it. I now understand that surgery is truly a last resort for those of us who have tried everything else without achieving permanent success. I used to be able to lose pounds more readily, when I was younger, but I was never able to keep them off. Now that I am not as young, it is even more difficult just to lose the pounds in the first place!
I have to make a lot of changes in the ways I think about food, my body, size and shape, and what it takes to get myself healthier. Among other things, I have to realize and acknowledge that the expenses are worth it...
that I am worth it. (L'Oreal has been saying it since I was a child, but they were only talking about the surface issues that could magically be addressed by purchasing their products. How convenient.)
So today, as I slip a big chunk of money into the mail slot, my mantra will be:
I am worth it. My health is worth it. My self-esteem is worth it. Easing the strain on my hips, knees and ankles is worth it. Feeling better and enjoying my life are worth it. I am worth it.
I am worth it.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Save the Date!
Thursday 2-16-12
BPD Day, the 6th of June...
Since my last post, there has been much craziness, but also much good news. I'll start with the good news and then recount the craziness. My insurance company sent me a letter almost 3 weeks ago to inform me that I have been approved for surgery! Yippee! A few days after that, Dr. Williams's office called to say that they had received the same letter and could schedule me as soon as I paid the program fee. All that was left was waiting for our income tax refund to hit the bank, and that happened this past weekend. So, yesterday I called the doctor's office, paid my fee and scheduled my surgery.
I will ever be able to explain how wonderfully supportive and understanding The Hubs has been about all of this, up to and including agreeing to spend our entire tax refund (and then some) to fund my surgery expenses not covered by insurance. I know he sees this as an investment in our future, as I do. And I know he wants me to be happy, healthy, to feel good and have energy so I can really enjoy my life and our time together. I am grateful beyond words for this man who is so generous and loving.
The craziness was another illness, worse than the one at Christmas. I developed a scorchingly sore throat and started feeling sick several days after my first Sunday night on call at the hospital. I had forgotten the lavalike pain that a serious sore throat could inflict. It felt like I had eaten gravel and sandpaper, washing them down with battery acid. My earliest chance to seek treatment was a visit the following Sunday morning to a local clinic, where I was examined, diagnosed with strep throat and given a prescription for a strong (1000 mg twice daily) regimen of amoxicillin. I did not report to the hospital for my scheduled clinical hours that day, instead going home, starting the medicine, drinking lots of liquids and sleeping as much as I wanted to. I did all the things a sick person is supposed to including going to the doctor and getting medicine.
Instead of improving, I just kept getting sicker. My tonsils abscessed, my sinuses bled, I fevered and sweated and...freaked out. I now refer to this bout as The Strep of Death. I ended up going to see my regular doctor that Wednesday. He asked me about my symptoms, checked ears and nose, and looked in my throat and said, "Oh, dear Lord!" That's never good. I had told him he needed to glove up before he examined me. He changed me from amoxicillin to levofloxacin and put me on house arrest for the rest of the week until the following Monday. Go home, go directly home, do not pass go, do not collect $200. A week's vacation went up in flames. A week of clinical hours for CPE vanished. But the change of medicine, and especially the restriction, proved to be exactly what I needed. I have to admit I'm still not completely 100% back to full Diva strength, but knock wood and Lord willing, I'm on my way.
BPD Day, the 6th of June...
Since my last post, there has been much craziness, but also much good news. I'll start with the good news and then recount the craziness. My insurance company sent me a letter almost 3 weeks ago to inform me that I have been approved for surgery! Yippee! A few days after that, Dr. Williams's office called to say that they had received the same letter and could schedule me as soon as I paid the program fee. All that was left was waiting for our income tax refund to hit the bank, and that happened this past weekend. So, yesterday I called the doctor's office, paid my fee and scheduled my surgery.
I will ever be able to explain how wonderfully supportive and understanding The Hubs has been about all of this, up to and including agreeing to spend our entire tax refund (and then some) to fund my surgery expenses not covered by insurance. I know he sees this as an investment in our future, as I do. And I know he wants me to be happy, healthy, to feel good and have energy so I can really enjoy my life and our time together. I am grateful beyond words for this man who is so generous and loving.
The craziness was another illness, worse than the one at Christmas. I developed a scorchingly sore throat and started feeling sick several days after my first Sunday night on call at the hospital. I had forgotten the lavalike pain that a serious sore throat could inflict. It felt like I had eaten gravel and sandpaper, washing them down with battery acid. My earliest chance to seek treatment was a visit the following Sunday morning to a local clinic, where I was examined, diagnosed with strep throat and given a prescription for a strong (1000 mg twice daily) regimen of amoxicillin. I did not report to the hospital for my scheduled clinical hours that day, instead going home, starting the medicine, drinking lots of liquids and sleeping as much as I wanted to. I did all the things a sick person is supposed to including going to the doctor and getting medicine.
Instead of improving, I just kept getting sicker. My tonsils abscessed, my sinuses bled, I fevered and sweated and...freaked out. I now refer to this bout as The Strep of Death. I ended up going to see my regular doctor that Wednesday. He asked me about my symptoms, checked ears and nose, and looked in my throat and said, "Oh, dear Lord!" That's never good. I had told him he needed to glove up before he examined me. He changed me from amoxicillin to levofloxacin and put me on house arrest for the rest of the week until the following Monday. Go home, go directly home, do not pass go, do not collect $200. A week's vacation went up in flames. A week of clinical hours for CPE vanished. But the change of medicine, and especially the restriction, proved to be exactly what I needed. I have to admit I'm still not completely 100% back to full Diva strength, but knock wood and Lord willing, I'm on my way.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Sags, Bags and The Humility Pimple
Saturday 1-28-12
Why even skinny people can sometimes look bad...
I mentioned in an earlier post that I was accepted to an extended unit of Clinical Pastoral Education at my city's teaching hospital. Doing this class, and the clinical hours and on-call requirements that it entails, have been glorious, exhausting, intense and humbling. And I am just getting my feet wet, really.
Last Sunday night I was on-call at the hospital. My job schedule limits the way I have to schedule my on-call nights, which I can only do on Sunday night going into Monday morning. Normally on Sunday I have clinical hours starting at 1 pm, and the on-call period starts at 4:30 pm and lasts until 8:30 the following morning. The chaplain on call the night before conducts the morning chapel service and then presents the morning report. Because of the way my clinical hours are set up, when I am on-call, I will actually be at the hospital from 1 pm on Sunday afternoon until my seminar is over at 5 pm on Monday afternoon. Then there is music practice after that. So now my Marathon Mondays are much more marathon-ish. And yes, it was exhausting, but a wonderful experience. I will be doing this twice a month until the unit is over in late May.
I slept for about one hour during my time at the hospital because we had several traumas come in during the night and my pager kept going off. The morning after my night on call, I was able to get a quick shower without being paged, thank God. But looking at myself in the mirror as I attempted to put on my makeup and start another day, I could see every minute of the night before showing up on my face and my body.
I had walked my feet off rounding the hospital and hurrying to the trauma bay numerous times overnight, as well as to various patient rooms for visits when called, so my posture was definitely sagging. Although I know that the exercise is good for me, there had been an overabundance of activity that night. I had rubbed a blister on one of my heels and felt like I had shin splints. And the bags under my eyes were the size of steamer trunks. Sometimes even the most skillful application of concealer just won't cover what I want covered, and the bags were definitely making their presence known in a most visible way.
Then I noticed it, as big as life and twice as ugly, staring smugly at me from the side of my chin like a school bully who has just made me run squawling to my Mama. The Humility Pimple. You know the one...the one that shows up at the most inopportune moments. Like prom. Or the reunion you want to look so polished and put-together for. Or the wedding/funeral/family holiday/first date that you've anticipated, planned and prepared for. It's The Zit that seems to laugh at you and say, "Oh, how I have missed you! I know you must be thrilled to see me, too. So glad I could make it for your big event! Wouldn't want to feel too good about ourselves, now would we?"
Yeah...not so much.
I am realizing more all the time that losing weight is only going to address some of my self-image issues. There will still be things that, frankly, will just make me look crappy sometimes...things like exhaustion, hormones, stress and The Humility Pimple. Even skinny people probably struggle with something, at some point or other, regarding their appearances. And once I am thinner and healthier, there will still be things I can't control about what I see in the mirror. My hope in this process is that I will be able to appreciate my improved health and energy, and to be grateful for feeling better, even (or especially) on days when I have sags, bags, or even The Humility Pimple.
Why even skinny people can sometimes look bad...
I mentioned in an earlier post that I was accepted to an extended unit of Clinical Pastoral Education at my city's teaching hospital. Doing this class, and the clinical hours and on-call requirements that it entails, have been glorious, exhausting, intense and humbling. And I am just getting my feet wet, really.
Last Sunday night I was on-call at the hospital. My job schedule limits the way I have to schedule my on-call nights, which I can only do on Sunday night going into Monday morning. Normally on Sunday I have clinical hours starting at 1 pm, and the on-call period starts at 4:30 pm and lasts until 8:30 the following morning. The chaplain on call the night before conducts the morning chapel service and then presents the morning report. Because of the way my clinical hours are set up, when I am on-call, I will actually be at the hospital from 1 pm on Sunday afternoon until my seminar is over at 5 pm on Monday afternoon. Then there is music practice after that. So now my Marathon Mondays are much more marathon-ish. And yes, it was exhausting, but a wonderful experience. I will be doing this twice a month until the unit is over in late May.
I slept for about one hour during my time at the hospital because we had several traumas come in during the night and my pager kept going off. The morning after my night on call, I was able to get a quick shower without being paged, thank God. But looking at myself in the mirror as I attempted to put on my makeup and start another day, I could see every minute of the night before showing up on my face and my body.
I had walked my feet off rounding the hospital and hurrying to the trauma bay numerous times overnight, as well as to various patient rooms for visits when called, so my posture was definitely sagging. Although I know that the exercise is good for me, there had been an overabundance of activity that night. I had rubbed a blister on one of my heels and felt like I had shin splints. And the bags under my eyes were the size of steamer trunks. Sometimes even the most skillful application of concealer just won't cover what I want covered, and the bags were definitely making their presence known in a most visible way.
Then I noticed it, as big as life and twice as ugly, staring smugly at me from the side of my chin like a school bully who has just made me run squawling to my Mama. The Humility Pimple. You know the one...the one that shows up at the most inopportune moments. Like prom. Or the reunion you want to look so polished and put-together for. Or the wedding/funeral/family holiday/first date that you've anticipated, planned and prepared for. It's The Zit that seems to laugh at you and say, "Oh, how I have missed you! I know you must be thrilled to see me, too. So glad I could make it for your big event! Wouldn't want to feel too good about ourselves, now would we?"
Yeah...not so much.
I am realizing more all the time that losing weight is only going to address some of my self-image issues. There will still be things that, frankly, will just make me look crappy sometimes...things like exhaustion, hormones, stress and The Humility Pimple. Even skinny people probably struggle with something, at some point or other, regarding their appearances. And once I am thinner and healthier, there will still be things I can't control about what I see in the mirror. My hope in this process is that I will be able to appreciate my improved health and energy, and to be grateful for feeling better, even (or especially) on days when I have sags, bags, or even The Humility Pimple.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Drumroll, Please!
Thursday 1-12-12
I have lost 25 pounds...
It seems like I should be more excited about this milestone, but I still have so much more weight to lose, it just feels like a drop in the bucket. It's important to remember that even small steps in the right direction will get me to where I need to be. The bigger, more rapid losses are coming after surgery.
I went to get my hair cut and permed this past Tuesday and I had not seen my hairstylist since my last haircut, which was the same day as my first visit with my surgeon. She said that she could tell a difference in how my face and neck look, which is nice of her to say whether it's true or not! She is wonderfully supportive of my efforts and said she looks forward to "going on this journey" with me, which I thought was really sweet. A good hair person is very much like a therapist in that he/she is usually a very good listener.
I ordered a Tanita scale to use, similar to the one at the surgeon's office, but a consumer model. I hope to keep more accurate records using this tool...and I find it ironic that, for the first time in my life, I am actually kind of excited about having a new scale. Maybe I really am changing in this process!
The progress with the CPAP feels slow. It isn't uncomfortable, exactly, but I am always very aware of it, if that makes any sense. I am still learning how to adjust the mask and make it as unobtrusive as possible...but the miracle of instantly better sleep quality has eluded me thus far. I've done some research and all the information suggests that it takes a little time to actually feel that sleep is improved. I am definitely ready to start reaping the rewards of my CPAP use, because I seem to be feeling especially tired right now. Maybe all the craziness of the holidays and how sick I was still has me running at a bit of an energy deficit. I may be a wild woman tonight and sleep without the machine.
Look at me, living on the edge!
I have lost 25 pounds...
It seems like I should be more excited about this milestone, but I still have so much more weight to lose, it just feels like a drop in the bucket. It's important to remember that even small steps in the right direction will get me to where I need to be. The bigger, more rapid losses are coming after surgery.
I went to get my hair cut and permed this past Tuesday and I had not seen my hairstylist since my last haircut, which was the same day as my first visit with my surgeon. She said that she could tell a difference in how my face and neck look, which is nice of her to say whether it's true or not! She is wonderfully supportive of my efforts and said she looks forward to "going on this journey" with me, which I thought was really sweet. A good hair person is very much like a therapist in that he/she is usually a very good listener.
I ordered a Tanita scale to use, similar to the one at the surgeon's office, but a consumer model. I hope to keep more accurate records using this tool...and I find it ironic that, for the first time in my life, I am actually kind of excited about having a new scale. Maybe I really am changing in this process!
The progress with the CPAP feels slow. It isn't uncomfortable, exactly, but I am always very aware of it, if that makes any sense. I am still learning how to adjust the mask and make it as unobtrusive as possible...but the miracle of instantly better sleep quality has eluded me thus far. I've done some research and all the information suggests that it takes a little time to actually feel that sleep is improved. I am definitely ready to start reaping the rewards of my CPAP use, because I seem to be feeling especially tired right now. Maybe all the craziness of the holidays and how sick I was still has me running at a bit of an energy deficit. I may be a wild woman tonight and sleep without the machine.
Look at me, living on the edge!
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