Isolation chamber in the dementia ward.
I was in a hurry to get this thing over with. There's controversy among my specialists right now.
The gastroenterologist believes my extreme exhaustion is due to my liver.
My neurologist believes my extreme exhaustion is due to sleep apnea.
If I had a podiatrist, he'd swear my extreme exhaustion is due to my plantar faciitis.
I'd rather it be due to sleep apnea than my liver, so there was a lot riding on this sleep test.
I was reluctant to go, because I'm a wuss and don't like to be separated from Joe for more than four hours, especially overnight.
Coward that I am, I made sure to take my baseball cap, my security blanket (an old afghan), my Kindle and my camera, in a sweet quilted bag that my friend Helga sent me on my birthday.
Joe stayed with me until "Jeremy" (the full time comedy circuit comedian) showed up an hour late.
Jeremy waited until Joe and I had done the Scarlet/Rhett Butler goodbyes, then took me through the double locked doors to the dementia ward and shoved me into my isolation chamber.
Glue, wires, probes, and monitors were attached for the next HOUR. When I told him I write a humor blog, he grabbed the camera and started snapping photos.
"Lean forward!" was followed by "Gimme a Wonder Woman pose!", followed by "Gah...you won't publish THIS one."
I told him I was afraid I would not sleep, but he proceeded to bore me to death with his stand-up routine until I begged him to leave so I could escape him by becoming unconscious . Which I did.
At 5am the next morning he woke me up, said I had not moved once during the entire night, and that Rhett had gotten to the hospital early and was pacing outside my door.
And here is photographic proof of my exciting night with another man.
WONDER WOMAN POSE
I'm not built like that. Those straps were TIGHT.