For the first time in my memory, I had a real night’s sleep. For most folks, their lack of sleep is due to a busy lifestyle, little kids, and late night television. For me, it’s self induced. Every 59 seconds all night long, a little synapse somewhere in my brain comes to a panic and tells the rest of the firing neurons, "Code Red! Code Red! The lady’s not breathing anymore! Wake her up!" And, while I’m grateful for his vigilance, that little synapse has deprived me of far more sleep than any of my kids ever did.
So, when my doc said it was time for the uterus to come out, I figured it was a great time for the nose to get straightened. Seems breathing with a double-deviated septum isn’t the easiest thing in the world; I’ve never got the knack of it. I called up my ENT specialist, and he agreed to do the surgery at the same time. He even offered to clean out my sinuses, too.
Last week, I finally went under the knife and spent a couple days in the hospital in a morphine-fog wondering just how big of an idiot I was.
No w I know the beauty of a true night’s sleep. No headache in the morning. No brain-fog by 9 AM. No desperate attempts at cramming in a few fast calories to get enough energy to survive the day.
It’s the best thing I’ve done for myself in years – even if my nose rivals a prize fighter at the moment.
Oh, and did I mention that lack of appetitite? I’m one step closer to getting my life back. And my weight down.
What a glorious feeling!