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.

THE SHOE ON THE OTHER FOOT

As a parent, there are times that your heart simply jumps into your throat.

When your child does not get off the school bus you have been waiting for.

The first time they drive off in your car without you.

Their first date, or dance, or year at college.

Having a child is having your heart live outside of your body.

Last night, my son got to experience that sensation.

I had told him I was going to be at a church meeting Thursday evening, and I even had put it on the family calendar.

However, my husband decided at the last moment to also attend this same meeting.

So our son came home to an empty house - no note from us about where we were - and only one car gone (which somehow threw the world every more off balance).

And the dogs refused to tell him where we had gone to.

He called our cell phones (which were both off since we were at the church) - called his sisters - the state highway patrol - he even called the emergency room at the hospital just to make certain we hadn't been in some horrible massacre or terrorist attach (which would have been masochist bliss for his dad, that's for sure).

Poetic justice... at last.