I'm going to start drafting this entry as I lie here feeling exhausted, depressed, anxious, and totally hopeless. Damn, do I miss my healthier days! I miss so many aspects of the old me, but I fear more and more that these things are permanently in the past. The harder I try to take control of my health, the further it seems to slip away. I just can’t get a handle on it.

Yesterday was absolutely horrible. Every time I drifted off to sleep, I kept waking up feeling like I was suffocating. I was utterly exhausted. I’ve only been getting a few minutes to a couple of hours of sleep here and there.

I finally decided to set up a virtual Urgent Care appointment, hoping for advice. The doctor I spoke to was a Jamaican woman with a strong accent that, combined with the garbled audio, made her hard to understand. She seemed robotic and detached and I didn’t really like her much. She thinks sleep apnea might be the root of many of my issues. Thinking back, I wonder if the shortness of breath I experienced a couple of months ago was really related to sleep apnea rather than the nasal spray. Maybe both the fatigue and breathing struggles have been tied to the apnea all along. Her advice was to go to the ER to get oxygen or contact my primary care doctor to arrange for it until my sleep apnea could be addressed.

I definitely regret giving up on the CPAP! Now, I’m desperate enough to try anything. I used to insist one’s throat structure didn’t change but according to some digging I did, aging does affect muscles and other things.

Tom was skeptical of her advice, thinking she was just covering herself, so we decided to go to Urgent Care for a second opinion. It was my first time at Urgent Care since the ‘90s although it wasn’t much different than the Minute Clinic. It was surprisingly dead too.

They agreed the ER wasn’t necessary and said nothing would resolve the sleep apnea without some kind of device. I’d prefer a mouthguard, but dentists who make them are hard to find.

I hadn’t thought to wear long sleeves with the temperatures in the 70s, so both the medical assistant and the doctor noticed the big ugly bruise on my forearm. I told them a heavy box fell on me while I was reaching for it on a closet shelf. I don’t know if they believed me and I don’t care, but I definitely need to stop doing shit like that. If I need to let out frustration, punching a mattress or pillow is a far better option than beating on myself or breaking things. It’s not my fault I have all these health issues. Either it’s no one’s fault because it’s random, or there’s a god up there allowing me to suffer and therefore it’s his fault.

Anyway, to help with sleep and anxiety, the doctor prescribed hydroxyzine—the same stuff Galileo gave me before. It does help me sleep, but it leaves me feeling hungover and groggy. Still, it’s better than nothing. Last night, I slept a bit more, even though there was still some snoring and breathing difficulty.

I asked if my breathing issues were anxiety or sleep apnea-related, and she said both. I even feel short of breath when I’m up and moving sometimes, though it’s much worse when lying down or trying to sleep. My nasal issues certainly don’t help. I can’t get in to see Rhonda fast enough!

On top of all this, my schedule is completely messed up. Tom told me not to worry and to sleep when I could, but it still weighs on my mind. I worry about how much time and money it’s going to take to deal with all of this and how much more suffering is in store for me along the way. Even if everything were resolved with the snap of a finger, I know there will just be something else. I know how it works for me.

I’m still feeling mild pain in my lower left abdomen and it worries me. If it’s anything serious (although I doubt it), we can’t afford for me to go under the knife every year. I might need surgery as it is to fix my nose just to breathe properly again. I’d love to believe my nasal issues and sleep apnea will be resolved in the next few months and that the lower pain is nothing but I can’t know that.