My wife says when I sleep, I snore. Frankly, I’ve never heard it. And since I’ve never actually witnessed any proof about my snoring, I don’t believe her. For years now my wife has been complaining about my snoring keeping her awake. And for years I’ve essentially called her a liar. I don’t know why she would lie about such a thing, but she does. Regardless, she kept on lying about it until I finally went to the doctor and had a sleep study done and, for the first time in my life, while being recorded, I snored like crazy.
The sleep study was conducted by my physician, Doctor Sherman. Not only is he my doctor, he’s my doctor-doctor. Yes, just like the Thompson Twins song goes. He is an M.D. and he also has his Ph.D., hence the doctor-doctor business. Essentially, it means he’s damn smart. So when he talks, I listen. And he said I suffered from sleep apnea. When I got the news, my wife, whom I love, snidely stated, “I didn’t need two doctorates to diagnose that you had sleep apnea. Anyone who sleeps within three blocks of you could have told you that.”
Regardless of my wife’s armchair/backseat/witch-doctoring, I kept on listening to what the doctor-doctor had to say about the matter. Sleep apnea means my big fat throat closes on itself at night and I stop breathing. My body fights to get oxygen and wakes me up by saying, “Hey stupid, you’re dying!” As the night wears on, there is a lot of snoring, tossing and turning, and general shenanigans that keep my poor wife awake. It also makes it so I don’t fall into a deep R.E.M. sleep and get the real rest that is needed by the human body. Due to the lack of solid sleep, I’m tired during the day and can get somewhat unpleasant. My wife stated it a little bit differently and said my lack of sleep had made me a “grumpy old jerk.” Obviously, besides not possessing a medical degree, she has no bedside manner either.
To fix my sleep apnea problem, I was given a prescription for a CPAP machine.
I was hoping for a prescription for Vicodin, which I thought was the cure for everything. Instead of happy pills, I was given a machine that sits on my nightstand with a tube that goes to a mask that engulfs my entire face. Sexy? No. Keeps me alive? Yes.
The machine uses positive pressure to push air into my throat and keep it open so I can breathe at night. I always knew I was lazy, but apparently I have become so lazy that I can’t even breathe for myself anymore. The CPAP technology is high tech, however I predict in 30 years they will have found a better method and will laugh at all of the poor bastards who slept at night with a mask over their faces for decades. Unfortunately for me, the future hasn’t arrived, yet. Sleeping with the machine makes me feel like I am a hundred years old and connected to life support (I wonder if my wife will consider pulling the plug). I don’t exactly exude confidence while using the CPAP. The machine in my bedroom is like my
dirty little secret.
The mask has different adjusters and straps and all sorts of gizmos that make it much more complicated to put on than it should be. I realized that I need to have the bedroom light on just to get the thing on my face the correct way. The act of getting the mask on my face has turned out to be quite a complicated affair. Once I finally get the thing on the right way, I want to turn the light off so I can go to sleep, sleep being the whole point of the machine. Ironically, the tube that goes from the machine to my face is too short for me to reach the light switch. So I’m stuck. Sleep with the light on, or take the mask off, turn the light off, and then fumble around in the dark with the mask?
To go along with my new “old man” status, I should order the Clapper. Futilely stretching for the light switch with my mask on makes me feel like a dog on a leash that’s just 6 inches short of the mailman.
I’ve found that wearing the CPAP machine is sort of like scuba diving in bed. You have an enormous mask on your face and you can hear your every breath. The first night I had the mask on, I rolled over and asked, “Hey, Honey. You wanna make love to Darth Vader?”
Her answer was a quick and simple, “No.”
I tried the Jedi mind trick by waving my hand and saying, “Search your feelings. You do want to make love to Vader. Come to the dark side of the bed.”
My wife, whom I love, looked at me as if I was the most pathetic being she had ever seen. Besides wearing an oxygen mask, I was also a complete nerd. She shook her head and said goodnight. Without me snoring, it was to be the first night she got any sleep in a long time.
Rob found that the CPAP machine works great for filling up air mattresses. Surgeon General’s Warning: This practice is not recommended by doctors.
This article appears in Jun 25 – Jul 2, 2009.