I was sleep-studied

I packed a bag, said goodbye to my family and drove away a few hours before bedtime last night. Why? In response to a query about daytime fatigue and mildly high blood pressure, my doctor suggested I submit myself to a sleep study. Nobody liked the idea of me going off in the evening and sleeping in a weird place, most of all me. But, if I have sleep apnea, it's not something to be taken lightly, so off I went.

The sleep center was in a nondescript building in the midst of an industrial park, next door to the state Bar Association and across the street from a credit union. After checking in and receiving some paperwork, I was escorted to a room that looked for all the world like a quite nice little hotel room- except for the small detail of having no windows whatsoever. Some hotels, I have to admit, I would have preferred not having the view they did. But in this context it just made it seem all the more odd.

After getting into pajamas and filling out paperwork, I was told to wait until someone would come to get me "hooked up." this was the understatement of the month; in the end I felt like a dolphin trapped in a tuna fishing net. Well, except for the absence of tuna. I was escorted to a room with a chair in the middle of the room, next to a wall full of wires and electronic gizmos and featuring a sink permanently labeled "not clean." Two women in medical garb strapped a harness to my trunk, and glued several electrodes all over my head, as well as in some compromising places. They threaded several wires through my pajamas to hook to the electrodes. I was given a sort of patch bay to carry with me. I managed to not trip over something on the way back to my sleep chamber. The pièce de résistance of this ridiculous outfit would be the sensors, added at the last moment, designed to be attached to my nostrils. there were actually two sets of them: one for measuring oxygen, the other for CO2. All four were then shoved up my nose. After getting it all hooked up to a gadget at bedside, it was nighty night time.

The room was pitch black, except for the status light on the camera that was constantly keeping its eye on me. As I lay there trying to relax and accept my uncomfortable fate, a voice came to me out of nowhere, making me jump out of my skin. A two-way PA system would be open all night long, so I could take with the faceless techs behind the camera. In order to quantify how much I twitch and writhe at night, they then asked me to do things like look to the left, right, and up, point my toes. Also, I don't remember how exactly they asked me to do this, but the gist was I was asked to undulate my midsection. I dutifully did all the silly things, then they left me to drift peacefully off. Alas, despite my attempts to ignore the things uncomfortably jammed into my nose, they kept me awake on and off for hours.

At one point, in the gloom, I realized I had to pee- but in order to do so, I had to be disconnected from the device at bedside. It felt funny to do so, but I just stated out loud to no one: "Hello, I have to go to the bathroom." Silence. No answer. I asked again. Nothing. Okay, this was not funny. The thing in my nose was really bugging me, and by now I really, really had to go. After several "hello! hello?"s, a voice came over the intercom: "I'll be right there." I was unplugged so I could relieve myself, but had to return moments later to the same uncomfortable state.

Finally I fell asleep. But, in what seemed like an instant, an attendant came in and said they had enough oxygen and C02 data, they wanted to give me something called CPAP, which stands for Continuous Positive Airway Pressure. it actually creates a little pressure where air comes in your head in order to keep the passages clear. An added bonus: if you try to talk, air will rush into your mouth and prevent speech from happening. It's like sticking your head out the window of a moving car- except inside out. It's a very weird feeling. In order to maintain this pressure, they had to strap a mask to my face that only covers the nose. Ideally, there is a bit of a seal to maintain pressure. Apparently there was insufficient flow, because I fell asleep and had a dream that I was drowning. When I awoke, I tried to get the thing off of my face, but the three- point velcro harness cleverly kept it snugly in place. I guess the sight of me sitting straight up and struggling to take the mask off of my nose got their attention. They traded it for a mask that had a less tight seal. Ironically, this did not suit their purpose as well, but if it weren't for that leak, I'm pretty sure I was not going back to sleep, and wasnt that the whole point of this exercise?

I managed to get about two and a half good hours of sleep after that. In the morning (or so they said- in my windowless cell, it could have been noon, three days later), I was led back into the chair room and stripped of my adornments. I was given a sucker and sent on my way. Oh, okay, there was no sucker- just a promise that after what they saw, my doc will most likely want me to come back and spend all night with a nose mask on. I can't wait.

So, I guess I do have sleep apnea. I am, however, adamantly opposed to the idea of sleeping with a mask on my nose all night for the rest of my life, so I'm resolving to make some changes: eat less cheese, drink less caffeine, become a side sleeper, and lose some weight. With all four changes, there's a chance I won't need the mask- or the more drastic next step, some kind of surgical modification. Could it be I've finally received the kick in the pants I needed to hit the gym and get serious about my weight? ...maybe.