So last night I returned to hell, er, the sleep center. I was resigned to spend another night wired up, strapped in, tossing and turning, and in general getting no rest.

As luck would have it, I got the same technician and the same room. Ah, just like home.

The process was essentially the same. Electrodes were attached to the now hairless portions of my body where they were the last session. Portions of my scalp were scrubbed with grit and electrodes were attached. This time, my technician was taking no chances: she brought out the duct tape. No, not really, but she did tape each electrode down extra firmly and also taped the wires into place.

But lo! No nose plug this time. “What gives?” I ask. Ah, this time it’s the “CPAP” study. I believe this stands for “Continuous Positive Airway Pressure.” If you’d like to simulate it, have a friend drive down the highway at about 80mph. Now stick your head out the window straight into the wind and breath. Ah… refreshing!

This wind-tunnel breathing is accomplished with a mask that fits over your nose and is then connected to machine that delivers pressure constantly, forcing your airways open, so that you don’t stop breathing and all.

So there I was. Wired. Masked. Just relaxing and getting comfortable. Same drill as before, only now, instead of not being able to move, I couldn’t breathe either!

I was instructed to close my mouth and breath through my nose. I did. But I couldn’t seem to get enough air, so I started breathing through my mouth. Let me tell you, this is one weird feeling. With your mouth closed, it’s almost normal. Like breathing in a wind gust. But when you open your mouth, air comes rushing out, and you feel the pressure. It’s bizarre.

So the technician came on the intercom and asked, “Is your mouth closed?”

“No, I can’t get enough air just through my nose.”

“Ah, I’ll try more pressure.”

And with that, the machine made a whirring noise and suddenly the tube tightened and now I couldn’t not breathe through my nose if I wanted to. I found it extremely easy to get enough air in through my nose, but it was almost impossible to breathe out my nose, against the pressure. It occurred to me this would be a decent way to teach circular breathing.

“Is your mouth still open?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I can’t breathe out my damn nose!”

“Okay, the pressure’s too high.”

The cacophony from the machine subsided, and now I found it possible to breathe again, both in and out, through my nose. Not that it was comfortable, it wasn’t. And I swear, it felt like it took forever to fall asleep.

And then something absolutely f’d up happened.

I woke up.

And it was morning.

I hadn’t woken up once the entire night. And I actually felt good. I wasn’t tired, and I am always tired when I wake up in the morning. I mean, always. I felt rested and refreshed and all those things normal people claim they feel when they wake up! Now, don’t get me wrong, morning people are still freaks.

But now I can really appreciate what a good night’s sleep can do. And hopefully, when I get one of these little contraptions for myself, I’ll be able to get a good night’s sleep at home.

Apparently, some 12 million American’s suffer from sleep apnea, and as luck would have it, I’m one of them. I fit the general risk group: I’m male, I’m overweight… I’m not over 40 yet, but I’m not as spry as I used to be. Additionally, my father has horrible apnea (and ironically, is quite thin).
So it really didn’t come as much sup rise to me that my wife complained about my snoring. But when she mentioned that it often seemed like I was gasping for air at night, and one night I actually woke up gasping for breath, I had a thought, “Perhaps, I should consult my doctor.”

And so began my journey into the world of the sleep study.

About two weeks ago, I had my first study. The goal is to monitor your sleeping, determine what is wrong, and then try some treatments to see what works best. My doctor ordered a “split study” which means they do the monitoring for half the night, then try treatments for half the night. Oh, to be so lucky.

The sleep study is held at the sleep center, which here in a major city is located in a hotel downtown. The hospital has an entire floor of the hotel which serves as the sleep center. Which is better than being in a hospital room. I suppose.

The room looks pretty normal. Except the IR LED array that functions as a “light”. You and I can’t see it, but it does light up the room for the “eye in the sky” camera that points down at the bed. Oh, and then there’s the data harness and various machines on the nightstand. It all looks a little odd, but nothing too intimidating.

Little did I know that a “sleep study” means becoming a cyborg for the night. First, eight electrodes are taped (yeah, taped) to various parts of your body. These measure your breathing and muscle contractions during the night. That’s not too bad, although for a guy like me with just a little bit of hair, well, I wasn’t looking forward to taking these electrodes off.

Nothing, and I mean nothing could have prepared me for the hell that was the head wiring harness. Eleven electrodes get attached to your head, you know, for brain activity. Which there’s a lot of when you have 19 electrodes attached to you and a person watching you sleep. Trust me, your mind wanders.

First, the technician scrubs each electrode point on your head and face with some noxious grit that seems like it should only be used in one’s garage after changing the oil on your car. Then the electrodes are taped in place, and the wires are taped in place, so now your head movement is restricted, and you feel like this should all be giving you super human strength or intelligence.

Then comes the nose thing. You’ve seen it in the movies. That plastic tube draped over the ears and under the nose? In hospitals it delivers oxygen. In the sleep study it catches snot. Er, it measures the pressure of breathing through your nose.

Ah, so now you’re totally wired. Lay back, oh, don’t forget this clip on your index finger! That measures the oxygen level in your blood. Now you’re laying in bed. On your back. Never mind that you usually sleep on your stomach (or side). The doctor would like to get some readings while you’re on your back. The technician tucks you in and plunges you into darkness. Then, you hear the voice:

“Open your eyes. Good. Close your eyes. Good. Blink five times in a row. Good”

You cycle through a number of commands designed, I’m sure, to calibrate the brain wave readouts with are no doubt being cataloged in a file in the master control room. After about five minutes, you’re done.

“Goodnight!”

Yeah, good night. Ha! You will never experience a more miserable night of sleep in your life.

You lay there. On your back. Wearing an inordinate amount of uncomfortable wiring, all of which makes it impossible to move. I rolled over, slowly, trying hard not to displace a wire. Then came a knock at the door.

“Um, come in?”

Seems I’d dislodged an electrode on my head when I moved. Great. Now I’m paranoid about moving. So all night, you are uncomfortable, self-conscious, and wired… I’m amazed that anyone comes out of this place sleeping “normally”.

Well, eventually morning came. If you’d like to simulate the experience at home, tape a dozen wires to your head, another half-dozen or so to your body, grab some fishtank tube and wrap it around your nose, then lay back, and have your spouse stand over you with a video camera.

Sweet dreams!

Well, as luck would have it, they need to get 2 hours of continuous sleep for the study to be accurate. And it took all night for them to get that from me, so they never got to the second half of the “split study”. Hoorah! That means I got to go back!! Whoo hooo!!

And the results? Frightening. Turns out I was actually not breathing 47 times per hour! And by “not breathing” I mean, I would stop breathing completely, for 10 seconds or longer. The result was that I was “aroused” in the medical sense of the word (meaning I might not remember being awake, but my brain came out of sleep) 506 times during the night… nine of those times were for 15 seconds or more. And I do remember those. Every goddamn second of them.

Next: Part II, I am Darth Vader.