So, ladies, gentlemen and small squirrels, I’m here to assure you that I did not forget Dark Fate, though my idea is to take a stray week in February, write it to the end, and then put it up in great big chunks. Um… Might be in March.
You see, I didn’t forget either Alien Curse OR A Well Inlaid Death (the next Dyce mystery, for which I have a cover and everything done by the amazingly talented Jack Wylder, see above.) I’m just running about 3 weeks late on when I intended to release things, which I feel calls for some small explanation.
You see, late last year older son was diagnosed with obstructive sleep apnea, which had probably been going on for three and a half years, judging by symptoms. There is an unfortunate airways configuration in my husband’s family, so that men get this issue quite early, but you know, the thing about sleep apnea is that it’s a stealth issue, and you don’t notice and the person just thinks they’re depressed, or at least that was the case. Also, since son didn’t snore as in AT ALL it never occurred to us he had an issue, since you usually can hear someone with apnea across the house. (We used to joke when my father in law visited about sleeping as far away as possible.)
Anyway, we know Dan had it, he just for several reasons hadn’t treated it for about 10 years (long and complex story involving insurance and stuff) and he realized suddenly he was suffering severe problems and should go along with it. Fine. And then I thought, “Well, when it comes to dropping projects, etc, I’ve been having the same issues, including an inability to lose weight, and a massive issue with being able to concentrate on anything longer than an article.”
The doctor was doubtful (as he should be) on my needing a test, because it seemed to be (and was, to an extent) a case of “Well, since we’re at it.”
So I did the home sleep test and they found I was running oxygen in the low eighties most of the night. This wasn’t actually a huge shock, since I was high eighties to low nineties during the day. You see, I was born premature, and then I had a bunch of illnesses that left my lungs in screwed up shape.
So they scheduled a full sleep test. I went to that sure they’d tell me all was normal and I wasn’t right in the head. Um… turns out not so much. Still down in the low eighties to sometimes high eighties for blood ox.
It’s not exactly the same issue as husband and son, since it seems to be mostly an insufficiency of oxygen. But it’s solved more or less the same way. I do apnea and probably have most of my adult life, but that can be fixed by an appliance that moves my lower jaw forward. The problem is I’d still need an oxygen concentrator with that. The other problem is that I found I had the exact same issue with the appliance as I had with the one my doctor made me years ago to prevent my grinding my teeth: I grind my teeth MORE on it and more or less destroy my gums in the process. OTOH just having an apap blowing an almighty jet of air into me both stops the apnea and the oxygen deficiency.
So I’ve been a week and a half on it. I think this is called “The week of fighting the machine.”
It’s getting better, but last night one of the stupid straps that aren’t supposed to come loose came loose, and I was too sleepy to figure out what it was until 5 am.
ANYWAY there is a difference. I resumed dreaming with just the dental appliance, which I’ve had for a couple of months (before that I was sleeping in two minute increments, so not so much.) But the blowy air thingy has stopped the perenial congestion and in a week and a half is well on its way to clearing the chronic bronchitis. It makes me think of tons of things, since mom — she does snore. Loud too. Also has the symptom I was having, of getting maybe two seconds warning I needed a nap and falling asleep anywhere and everywhere — and her family all develop this chronic congestion and bronchitis starting at around 40. I know I’ve been oxygen deficient at least that long. The thing is if I’m oxygenated at night, I seem to remain so during the day. Though it’s entirely possible not to say likely that in ten years or so I’ll need an oxygen concentrator during the day, at least while living at altitude. (And yeah, on “why didn’t people get this stuff before?” Well, they did. I’m sure a sleep study on mom would be interesting. My family has the charming habit of stopping sharing a bedroom when the kids move out. Not because of not getting alone, but because of sudden onset, bizarrely loud snoring. This tells you something.)
This is probably the cause of the demilienation events going on in my brain, and in six months or so I’ll ring up the neurologist and ask to check. I haven’t had cases of my foot not obeying me, but that might be just coincidence, since a week and a half is not enough (probably) to recover from that, unless it was caused by sheer tiredness.
The other thing that seems to be clearing up is the incipient and permanent depression. You guys have no idea how amusing it has been for years to be berated for being “too optimistic” when in fact my “optimism” was self administered therapy so I didn’t fall completely into the pit of despond.
There are indications that the brain is coming back on line, too. I mean, the last two years since being treated for hypothyroidism, I have been markedly better, but not … up to my own standards. And long works still required an enormous amount of will power.
Speaking of which, I want major props because while extremely sleep deprived and hypothyroidal, I still finished at least a novel a year and often more. (And by the last two years have been better: well, I haven’t need to tape a list of character names to the monitor because I kept forgetting them or have the issue of forgetting where I’d left people in the last chapter.)
I am older, perhaps 5 or ten years since the problems set in, so I have no idea how far I’ll recover.
Anyway apparently one of the things that this oxygen thing and not breathing properly (Seriously, guys, how can I flunk breathing? I’m special) has done is cause me to get sick a lot. This January I caught what my son classified as a “Pseudo flu” (I mean, I couldn’t even have the real thing?) and was even more out than usual. So I lost three weeks, a week of which I couldn’t even write for PJMedia, because I was out of it.
Things are better, even if last night was a mess. And I hope they’ll get steadily better over the next few months, and that I can type in the novels I have long hand, and finish others, including but not limited to a couple of Dyce novels, and the sixth musketeer mystery. (I might have waited too long on that and lost the fans, but it couldn’t be helped. I wasn’t well. I hope the sixth revives the series. If not it will be the last.)
Lately too, I’ve stumbled on the half written 4th Shakespeare book (there were five planed in the series) but I hesitate on that, just because of the massive amount of research it will take to get back to that mode. We’ll see.
Anyway, I should be writing. Books, I mean. Oh, and articles. This weekend too I hope to finish typesetting the next short story collection and get it out next week. There’s this velum program for typesetting I mean to try to put out paper editions of all the stuff that doesn’t have it.
I shall go. More Grant in Portugal and other stuff next week, I promise.