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Surviving Without Sleep, and Then With Too Much
How my diagnosis and treatment of fibromyalgia changed my self-perception
During one of the lowest moments in my year without sleep, I remember watching some silly Disney Channel sitcom where the kids were all settling in for a sleepover. They told each other good night, lay down in their bunk beds, and went to sleep.
I was so jealous.
At that time, I wasn’t sleeping at all. Instead, I was living in some weird twilight zone day and night. Words would often elude me, and minor traffic accidents were frequent. I found myself bruised from running into things. I felt incapable of initiative and different from other humans, who could close their eyes and gain the restoration brains and bodies require to survive.
My year without sleep started with my hysterectomy. It was supposed to be a minor surgery and seemed preferable to the suffering I had been enduring for several years. It was short—14 minutes flat—but the anesthesia was shorter. I woke up and tried to pull the tube out of my throat. The nurses pushed me back down, the doctor finished up the procedure, and they wheeled me into recovery fully awake. I was in so much pain I was sure I would bend the rails of the bed with my grip.
