I just keep doing these things to myself. I guess it’s my illness.

But I somehow managed to convince myself that I had already blogged today and went on my merry way plating Baldur’s Gate 2 and only now, with only 45 minutes to go before I said I’d be leaving with Joe at 9 pm to go see Felicity, do I realize that I totally have NOT blogged today and my belief that I had was 2/3 wishful thinking and 1/3 my usual hazy mental state, which has gotten even worse lately.

Example : The other night, I became convinced that me and Joe and Julian had just watched an episode of the Daily Show and got very confused when Joe queued up “another” to watch.

But we hadn’t just watched one. Not at all. My mental state had simply gone so soft that I had momentarily slipped back in time to the previous day. It really felt like I had just heard Trevor Noah say “And now, your moment of Zen” but it just wasn’t true.

And that really frightens me. We are definitely slipping from absentminded into delusional there. I am worried that the sleep apnea is addling my brain and that I am going to be a full time drooler at way too young an age.

And I can’t afford to lose any more of my grip on reality. It’s shaky at best as is. probably because I spend so little time interacting with it. Sitting in front of this computer is not just bad for my physical health.

It fucks with my mind, too. Everything in my daily life is so virtual and emphemeral. There’s so little physical input in my life that it’s almost like sensory deprivation and it’s a wonder that I have any grasp on reality left.

It’s ’cause I’m tenacious. To a fault.

Still, I am clearly losing my marbles and I have precious few to spare. I am going to have to make an appointment and go see my GP and tell him about these mental lapses and how my sleep apnea has been untreated for ages and see if he can point my way towards a solution that might just work for me.

But I don’t think I can ever do CPAP again. Well, maybe with the new masks that only go over your nose and not your mouth. But I wouldn’t count on it.

I can’t breathe through my nose most of the time anyhow.

So I dunno. It’s quite possible that nothing can be done for me at this point. There are surgeries that help but doctors often do not want to recommend them because to them, it seems like an unnecessary risk.

Yeah, well, you strap an alien facehugger to your face and try to sleep and then you tell me if it’s worth the risk. Because there is no way I am ever doing CPAP again.

I just can’t do it. Considering my extremely intense fear of smothering, it is a wonder I ever did it in the first place. I remember it took a lot of very careful puck handling of my fragile psyche to get me through it.

Only to have all the work shattered when I woke up unable to breath because the goddamned fucking CPAP machine stopped giving me air.

There was a kink in the tube connecting the unit to the mask, I think. Doesn’t matter. Point is, it was very hard for me to get to the point where I trusted the machine to breathe for me and that one incident means I will never trust it again.

So I don’t know. I’d like to think that there would be something that could keep me from smothering in my sleep a hundred times a night. I would be woilling to give home oxygen a try, although ironically, it would have to be by oxygen tent because otherwise it would be just another goddamned mask over my face that I have to trust to give me air.

It’s a heck of a catch, that Catch-22.

Maybe I will have to be hospitalized. That would suck. I hate being in the hospital. It’s quite stultifying and there is not nearly enough to do.

If it was a long stay, I suppose I could get a laptop so at least I would be able to write. And without video games to drain my energy, I would probably be writing all the time.

So who knows, it might work out.

But without the laptop, forget about it. I am used to a steady diet of very rich mental stimulation and without it I would go berserk. What started as being admitted for respiratory issue might turnj into a psych admission because I would not be able to stand the dropoff in mental stimulation.

At the very least, I would turn into a difficult patient. Demanding, irritable, always getting up when I am supposed to stay in bed. Pulling pranks.

The other other option is that I would simply give in to my depression and sleep pon the time and barely be alive.

I’d rather be a pain in the ass, to be honest. At least it would be something to do. And trust me on this, reading and crossword puzzles only get you so far.

I know, I will tell them to sedate me till I am well. I would be a model patient then. Never complaining, always compliant, never any trouble.

The worse I would do is snore.

Anyhow. My point is that I have real cause for worry and I am going to work hard to keep reminding myself of that until I do something about it.

If I don’t, it will slip back into the general goo of my mind and I will end up doing nothing about it (like with my sleep apnea) until things get really dire.

And maybe not even then. Depression’s a bitch. There’s no cure for a disease that actively fights attempts to cure it.

But I am not going down without a fight.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.