Weird. And Creepy. And Fascinating.

It had been three years since I'd sat across the desk from the emergency room registration person. I have yet to have any kind of real emergency - I've just not followed regular hospital hours. But no matter what's the matter, there's something dramatic about walking through those double doors after dark, and waiting in the empty lobby while a fuzzy TV drones on as background noise.

I was there for a polysomnogram, a "sleep study" ordered by my doctor who took one look inside my nose and asked, "Can you breathe?" (I thought I could...) While poking my sinuses with a strong, bony finger she asked follow up questions in her brusque Eastern European accent. "Do you feel rested ven you vake up?" "Could you fall asleep in the middle of the day if someone vould let you?" She asked as if it was a bad thing...and she scribbled out a prescription for a sleep study.

So I left my family and checked into the hospital for my overnight test on Saturday night. I'd been in the waiting room for 5 minutes when I had my first - and only - warm fuzzy experience. This Catholic hospital holds true to its Sisters of Mercy roots and at 8:30 every evening the PA system buzzes to life with a "Mercy Moment," something I remember loving when the girls were in the hospital. The on-duty chaplain leads the building in an evening prayer, and last night it was Alex Garvey, who had prayed with us over Eden in those weeks she was fighting for her life. I remember his soothing Irish lilt and I remember him praying that she would be an obedient child who would learn to love God with all her heart. I remember loving that moment and being infinitely grateful that God had chosen that hospital, at that moment. I directed my gaze to the atrocious Miss Florida pageant playing on the fuzzy TV to avert the tears that were burning their way through.

The warm fuzzies ended when "Ben" appeared to collect me and the other sleep-deprivee. He was what you might expect of a guy who sits in the hospital overnight and watches people sleep. Big, quiet, kind of sloppy. With a ponytail. He silently led us to the farthest reaches of the hospital, the ones reserved for horror movies. In a service elevator to the fifth floor. Through a door that leads from shiny lacquered wood flooring to square linoleum tile. Down a deserted hallway with rooms storing ancient hospital beds. Into the "sleep lab," where I was shown my room- and left alone for the next 3 hours. "Ben" would pop in with paperwork (Did you nap today? Do you have any scars or current injuries?) and a bottle of water, but from 8:30 until 11:15 it was me, my book and about 11 channels.

At 11:15 he sauntered back in and sat me in a chair, proceeding to attach nineteen, YES 19, sticky leads to my body. Five on my face. Five in my scalp. Two on each leg. Two on my torso. A belt around my chest, a belt around my waist. A pulse-oximeter taped to my finger. A snore-mic plastered to my neck. Finally, some three-pronged thing for my nose and mouth. With a quick "go ahead and get in bed," he took my remote (!), turned out the lights and vanished. Minutes later his voice filled the room asking me to blink, look right, flex here and there... and finally... "have a good night."

Yeah right. Did I mention 19 leads? With 19 wires? And a camera? Did I mention "Ben" had an infrared camera and would be watching me sleep?

It would be an hour before I finally succumbed to sleep. The hour was filled with racing thoughts (with all that brain monitoring, could they tell what I was thinking?) and frustrated re-positioning. Moving my legs tugged at those wires. Turning my head made the plugs on my scalp hurt and pulled my hair. Rolling to the side caused a struggle between my pointer finger and the monitor where all the wires were plugged in.

The morning was equally awkward - was I supposed to call for him? Wait until he came to get me? What time was it, anyway? Did I pass?

Less than gently, he ripped the leads off, leaving me with circular hickeys of raw skin all over my face and a 3-inch-square stinging patch on my neck. And then I was "free to go."

And free to wonder for a few days if the experience yielded anything interesting, or if it just made for 3 hours of reading time and an opportunity to catch a few of my favorite Jurassic Park scenes on TV.