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Tuesday, May 19, 2015

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.