SLEEPING IN PUBLIC

Some things I simply do NOT forget.

I mean, things besides my social security number, my own phone number and my kids' names.

But I am very consistent in keeping my keys and my wallet in the exact same place for easy retrieval- and for the pure and simple fact I would never, ever, find them again.

However, last night I did assume ("which makes an ass out of me and you") that my wallet would have my driver's license and military identification in it.

Which are two things which are essential when you need to actually register into a hospital for a sleep study.

Bless the sweet lady at the reception desk late last night -- she signed me in on my word only.

But it wasn't the slumber party I anticipated, and for which I brought my blankee and teddy.

I spent last night hooked up to aprx. 37 wires glued to my scalp, three chest straps, two monitors stuck up my nostrils AND two infrared cameras monitoring my every move. And then was supposed to SLEEP a regular night's sleep.

The polysonography test is designed to check my breathing, see if I had sleep apnea, and if I did, awaken and force me to wear a CPAP mask (illustrated on the right).

And believe it or not?

I actually did SLEEP.

At least a little.

Now excuse me - I need to make up 8 hours of missed sleep.

WHEN YOUR DOCTOR LOVES YOU

Arizona is where people used to move to when they had allergies.

This is no longer true.

Before cattle and/or ranchers moved into Arizona from Texas and New Mexico, an entirely different kind of landscape existed.

And it may have been horrible for allergy-sufferers back then; some day some prehistoric Native-American hieroglyphics may be uncovered that show figures sneezing and taking antihistamines.

(Sidebar here: saying "Native Americans" is extremely politically correct, but even Native Americans call themselves Indians, so it's kinda silly)

(Second sidebar: and who the heck decides what is prehistoric? If there is a record of some sort, then isn't it history, not pre-history? Who decides how far the date gets pushed back?)

Then the cattle brought in mesquite trees through their dung (gross, but true), and then ate the native grasslands out of existence.

Okay, now it becomes the "No-Allergy Land Of Retirees And People Who Can't Take The Humidity of Florida," and the city of Phoenix is born (I live almost as far as you can be from Phoenix and still be in the state of Arizona).

But then, as the P.W.C.T.T.H.O.F move in, they bring with them their favorite plants.

And plant them. And water them. And they GROW.

Hello again, pollen, spores and allergies.

I didn't have allergies until I moved here.

And for the past five or six years, I have been taking 1 -2 allergy prescriptions, nasal spray and OTC allergy meds.

Today, my doctor proved once again what a wonderful physician he is.

Instead of giving me another prescription, he gave me an injection.

And not JUST an injection, but a STRONG injection; his wording was "Let's just go right to the really good stuff."

He rocks.

Although now I have an injection site on one buttock, and a biopsy site on the other buttock (results already back - that pre-cancerous deal again).

I am typing this standing.

MEN ARE FROM MARS, PART IXX

Let's just say that there is a word.

And how about we make these words be potato chip.

Now to you, and me, and most other English-speaking individuals (well, except the British with the whole chips/ fries/ crisps bit), a potato chip is a slice of potato, fried and salted.

Right? You and I agree on that, okay?

It's nothing more, and really nothing less.

It's just a potato chip.

So suddenly in through the front living room window crashes in this huge weirdly-marked extraterrestrial from some distant galaxy. Totally uninvited. Distinct odor. Like bad eggs and extremely full diapers. Maybe with a little mold tossed in.

But no politeness, right into your space.

And to HIM, and all of the aliens like him from his corner of the universe, the word potato chip is the equivalent of filming your mother sexually active on prime time television with Jerry Lewis (i.e. not good).

You explain to this alien that no, potato chip means, well, potato chip here on earth. You're sorry that the word offends him, but that isn't what you meant by it, you just meant to say, well, that bit of fried potato that is a potato chip.

The galactic visitor refused to accept your explanation, immediately contacts all his warships in space, threatens to leave the entire earth in nuclear annihilation, and leaves, slamming the bedroom door, in complete and utter disgust, and refuses to talk to you the rest of the night.

Anyone got a better explanation?