Sleep Apnea and Amusing CPAP Tricks

That's right. I have sleep apnea. You can Google it to find out the gory details. For my anecdotal take on the condition, read on.

I don't know when it started, but I'm pretty certain I haven't had sleep apnea my entire life. I'm guessing, based on the observations of those geographically near me when I am asleep, that I've had sleep apnea for at least a decade. I wasn't aware I had it. Sleep apnea occurs when you are sleeping, right? If you experience while you are awake, it isn't sleep apnea, is it? In the last couple years, though, I think I've been experiencing sleep apnea symptoms when I'm awake. Maybe we should call that "wake apnea."

I became aware of my sleep apnea long before I ever heard that expression. I recall my sons giggling in the mornings following their sleepovers at my apartment. Even though I kept my bedroom door shut, they could hear all sorts of snoring, loud gasps as if I was being suffocated, moaning, groaning, and other sundry sounds that, to teenage ear, at least, were pretty funny. Of course, I was totally unaware of this wee-hour hullaballoo I was generating. I was asleep.

Then the restless leg syndrome kicked in, so to speak. So, in addition to my gasping, proto-corpse episodes, my legs were spinning wildly out of control. I was positively dangerous in my unconscious state. About this time, I was becoming aware that my conditions were impinging on my social life. The lady I was dating, who was to become my bride, was very disturbed by my night time behaviors, and didn't know what to think. My brother, who is a doctor, heard me tear up the bed when I was staying at his house for a few weeks, and he prescribed a sleep testing session at a nearby hospital. I decided to do it, just to see if I really had something. I was still in denial at this point.

The sleep clinic was pretty interesting. We were told to bring pajamas, toothbrush, toothpaste, and something boring to read. The nurse who connected me to the sleep apnea machine took about 45 minutes to connect electrodes to my ankles, thighs, chest, arms, and hands. She also attached electrodes to various locations around my head. She clipped an oxygen detector on my finger and fitted my head with some sort of gadget that can detect air flow. By the time I was fully hooked up, I looked like I was going into cryosleep for the long journey to Galaxy Omega. I felt like some sort of telephone cable junction box, with about 93 cables coming off my body. Next, they test to make sure that everything is working properly. Of course, some electrode on my chest was not registering Of course, it was attached to the hairiest part of my chest. Every time she ripped off the electrode to put on more electro-conductive glop, it pulled enough hair with it to knit a long scarf. So, after they laid me down, on my back, told me not to move, and attached a facemask with a pneumatic tube extending out of it, she wished me good night.

It wasn't easy to sleep this way. I'm guessing I did sleep. Next thing I know, it's 1 am and the nurse comes into the room. "You've got it bad," she tells me. "Bad" apparently means that I've had 90 sleep apnea episodes in an hour. That's bad. It's so bad that they don't have to wait for a doctor to diagnose it. My sleep apnea was as plain as the mask on my face. So, the next thing they did was get a CPAP machine and start trying to figure out what pressure to set it at. I'll discuss CPAP machines in a second.

I did learn some important stuff that night. I learned I had sleep apnea, and I had a pretty severe case of it. Throughout the night, the nurse showed up to adjust the CPAP machine. CPAP is an acronym for: Continuous Positive Airway Pressure. The machine itself is a retangular box about 8 in wide, 4 inches high, and about 11 inches deep. I've never seen the inside of it, but it must have some way to control the pressure in the exit tube. The 1 inch-diameter tube extends from the CPAP box and terminates in a face mask. This mask fits over my nose with an airtight fit. There are straps that go behind my head to hold the mask against my face. The machine pumps a positive pressure into the facemask, hardly more than a tenth of a pound per square inch, depending on what the doctor orders, but, it's enough to somehow push the parts of my sinuses or whatever so they don't block my breathing, which is the cause of sleep apnea.

I'm not a vain person. I don't look in the mirror and admire my reflection for hours. But, I've never looked at myself in the mirror when wearing that dopey face mask with the tube dangling out of it. I guess I look like some hose beast from dimension 92 or something. It's such an embarrassment for me that I wait until the lights are off in the bedroom before donning that mask.

And, the CPAP machine makes noise. It makes the loudest noise when I don't have the face mask on and there's no back pressure. Then it roars away. When I have the mask on, it is very quiet when I'm not breathing. However, most of the time I breathe, which the idea of the gadget in the first place. When I put the mask on, I feel the pressure build up around my nose. The machine gets quiet, however, when I breathe, the CPAP machine begins to roar. It stops when I exhale. This is no fun for me.

However, I've started learning how to make all sorts of different noises. I find, when I relax my sinuses, the pressurized air flows into my nose and out my mouth. By doing this, you can make any number of very unnatural-sounding noises, like when you talk after inhaling helium from a balloon. Other noises you can make: If you press your lips together at the right pressure, they will flap like a race horse's, except you can flap for hours, if that's what turns you on. You can direct the air flow over your vocal chords and make those low, droning sounds like those Tibetan monks. On my to-do list is to take the mask underwater, like in the bath tub. I think I need to do a run with no bubble bath and a run with bubble bath. The addition of suds will probably have a major effect on the resulting sounds and visuals.

I use that CPAP machine every night. I definitely have more dreams. My brother, the doctor, said that I should be feeling more awake during the day. For somebody like me, however, having more energy might be detrimental to the health of those around me. I still have restless leg syndrome, but, as long as I take a hot bath before retiring, it's OK.

So, now my nighttime is under control. If only they'd make a machine for my daytime antics.....