This Is What A Sleep Study Looks Like

First off, I'm sorry.

I really, really, really want to be done writing about sleep.  It's all I've written about for the last six months (okay, this is only the third post in six months, but still...).

Sleep, however, continues to elude me.  Initially, the sleep doc decided against a sleep study because I don't exhibit any signs of sleep apnea or restless leg syndrome.  The thought was to not do an expensive test if there wasn't anything meriting it.  I can get behind that.  But after several months of behavioral approaches with very little improvement, it was decided a few weeks ago that I should be scheduled for a sleep study.  Plus, I do exhibit symptoms of periodic limb movement disorder (PLMB).

So here's what a sleep study looks like:

Okay, I should clarify.  This is what the beginning of a sleep study looks like.  Why am I smiling?  Well, there are a couple reasons:

1. This is ridiculous.  I knew I'd be "hooked up" to some shit, but come on.  How is anyone supposed to sleep at all with this get-up?

2.  If I didn't smile, I would cry.  I rolled into the sleep study last night at 9:30, the appointed time, barely able to keep my eyes open.  I've barely slept in a week.  My sleep vascillates between waves of: kinda-okay to downright-shitty.  I'm squarely in the latter phase.  One of the downfalls of this latter phase (there are many) is that I cry at almost anything.  I get, well, a touch emotional when I haven't slept well in weeks.

So here I am hooked up to 20 or so wires (each wire on my head required a massive amount of paste in my hair - I really regret not getting an after shot this morning), a tube in my nose, a monitor on my finger, two wires running to my legs.  I was told I would be video recorded for the night.  Isn't that reassuring?

Somewhere in all of this is the idea that you might actually sleep, and maybe some people do.  I tossed and turned until after 3am, dozing off briefly a few times but never actually settling into sleep.  I had to call Amy, my lovely sleep tech, in because first I was freezing, then I was sweating to death, then I had to use the bathroom (yeah, you know it was ridiculous).  After all that nonsense I finally slept for a little over two hours.

Did they get what they needed?  Will someone be able to tell me what the hell is going on after that spectacularly poor night of sleep?  I have no idea.

The optimist in me thought I would roll out of the sleep study, go home, get ready for work and proceed to have a "normal" day.  Both of my bosses took one look at me and said, "Why are you here?  Go home."  I resisted for a couple hours and then gave in.  A crappy night of sleep is my norm, but last night was something else entirely.  It felt like a strange performance gone wrong.

You're given all the parameters, the dos and don'ts and encouraged to move through your nighttime routine to hopefully attain what is a "normal" night of sleep for you.  Part of me thought, hey, I'm going to sleep in a quiet, completely dark room with no children waking me up... maybe I will get a good night of sleep!  But then I got there and there was no window in the room (this freaks me out), it was clearly a hospital room (was hoping for some homey touches), the bed was horrifically uncomfortable, I was being monitored and videotaped, a sleep tech could come in as necessary to adjust wires or request over the speaker that I change sleeping positions, and I was uber-wired and could barely move without tearing said wires off.

I felt like someone's science project, like a lab experiment gone wrong.  The entire situation was so bizarre; I had entered the level of exhaustion that left me with two options:

1. Smile (okay, maybe with a touch of delirium)

2. Cry

I hope that in 10-14 days I can tell you that this little experiment was worth it.  In the meantime, I'm going to bed.  

And Then There Was… Slightly More Efficient Sleep

That's about as good as it gets these days.

Truth: The last few weeks have been terrifically difficult.

When the good doc told me I would need to sleep deprive myself further--in order to sleep better--she wasn't kidding.  At the time, I wasn't thrilled to begin this sleep schedule a few days before Christmas.  I wanted to enjoy the holidays, not slog through them in a zombie haze.  However, with the way the holidays fell, I only had to work one day per week for two weeks.  This was a blessing.

I've been a functional insomniac for nearly six years.  Despite every doctor I've seen telling me things would get worse before they improved, I still scoffed at their words.  How much worse could it get?

Oh, friends.  It can get worse.

But let's start with the good news:  At my appointment last week, I had improved my "sleep efficiency" by a great enough percentage that the doc granted me a 15-minute increase to my sleep schedule.  This means I now get to crawl into bed each night at 11:15 as opposed to 11:30.  It may seem insignificant to you, but it took all I had not to burst into tears of joy when this was announced.

It is so difficult to not go to bed when you are beyond exhausted.  To put the kids to bed, look at the clock, and realize you still have, at a minimum, THREE MORE HOURS until you get to join them in slumber.  It feels horrifically unfair.  It goes against everything my body is shouting at me (You're tired! Go to sleep!  Why are you up?!?).

The dreaded daily sleep log - to track my sleep "efficiency."

What else is there to do, though?  I've tried it all, and now will try this.

And, by the way, the only reason my sleep efficiency has improved is because I am not allowed to go to bed or get up when I want to.  Pre-sleep schedule I was in bed for an average of 9 hours a night, only sleeping about 6.  Currently, I am allowed to be in bed for 7.25 hours per night, and am sleeping less than 6.

So I am actually getting less sleep now than I was when I began this treatment.  But it's more efficient.

It sounds terrible, and it is.

There have been days where I can't get behind the wheel.  I am so tired I don't trust my reaction time.  I tell Vinny to stop me if I try to leave, because 10 minutes after I decide I am in no shape to drive, I will have forgotten that I ever had that thought and will try to leave.

Yes, that's another really fun part of sleep deprivation.  I am suffering from a serious case of Can't Remember Shit (CRS).  I've experienced CRS in the past, most severely during my pregnancies.  But this is worse than that.  This is like having absolutely no short-term memory whatsoever.  Vinny vacillates between finding it hilarious, annoying, and concerning.  I think. It's hard to remember…

So all of this to say that progress is slow.  Yes, there is progress.  I cling to the tiny bits of progress because without them I would be even more of a crazy mess by now.

What is shifting?  Well, when I go to bed I fall asleep much faster, almost every night.  I stay asleep for longer stretches, sometimes until 5am.  This is major.  Sophie was sick for a stretch  after Christmas, waking me up each morning around 5:30, and that has continued to be an off-and-on trend, enough so that when she doesn't wake me up at that time my body decides to do it anyways.

I am getting, on average, about 5.5 hours of sleep per night right now.  It's not ideal, at all, but it is "better" sleep.

For the foreseeable future, I will continue to slog through my days in a zombie haze.  I apologize if we've spoken, hung out, emailed, or otherwise communicated in any way, and then I had absolutely no recall of it later.  I swear I am not ignoring you or failing to pay attention to what you say.  I am failing to remember it later, and it's frustrating, embarrassing, and, hopefully, not going to be an issue much longer.  I have so appreciated everyone's patience and kind words through this.  Thank you, thank you.