Exhaustion continues. Eight hours of sleep somehow equals grogginess and general lethargy. I'm yawning as I type.
I went to the doctor today for a physical. Interestingly, though, I had lost track of time. I had thought it was well over a year since my last appointment. Nope. 10 months. 10 stupid, inconsequential months and I have to go back in July. Rats.
So I got to see I've gained a couple pounds, am not generally shrinking in height and was told I have low blood pressure, but after waiting an hour for my appointment to begin, it was all for naught. So we discussed my chronic fatigue problem.
No real insightful solutions: Go to bed at the same time, don't allow myself to toss and turn in bed longer than 30 minutes, get up at the same time each day, exercise more, warm milk before bed.
One thing, though, and this will kill me, I'm sure of it. No more tea. No more coffee. Considering what a hell-raising bitch it is to haul my sorry haggard ass out of bed in the morning, I really have no idea how I'm supposed to get up at a regular early hour without it.
I could nap right now. I'm actively fighting a nap right now. I'm like a senior citizen for naps. I could always go for one. The Dude naps. And then he drinks caffeinated drinks all day and night long and then piles into bed and it's lights out. Damn him and the horse he rode in on. It's hard not to be envious.
I'm like an effing vampire. Know when I get my energy? Midnight. Oh yes. And then and only then do I experience the kind of energy and alertness that normal people must experience around noon. It shoots through me and I'm wired (On what? The lack of sunshine and human companionship?) for hours.
Last night I dozed off during an old movie around 11:00. So I went to bed. Seemed like the reasonable thing to do. I fell asleep around 2:00 a.m. I just don't get it.
If this isn't sorted out through conventional means by July, my doctor suggested a sleep study. And frankly, I see it coming down to that. I mean, not only do I have a life-long history of pisspoor sleep, I also get night terrors. Oh yes. I've woken the dude up to kill imaginary spiders about... oh, a dozen times in the last two years?
"WAKE UP! Wake up, spider! Wake up, wake up! Turn on the light!"
"Mrrgh, what? No, there's nothing there. Go back to sleep."
"NO! No! No! There's a spider! Turn on the light, turn on the light!"
"See? There's nothing."
"Oh... Oh. Okay. Goodnight. Zzzzzzz."
I get recollections of these night fits the next day and I ask the Dude, "Did I have a night terror last night?" His response, a disgruntled yes. Whatever's wrong with my sleep, I don't think warm milk's going to fix it.