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Do you snore? Get tested for sleep apnea.
I (used to) snore. Loudly. One time, when I fell asleep before Arb, he took his phone and recorded me snoring, then played it back in my ear until it woke me up. It was ghastly.
I also used to be incredibly tired all the time, and just about never woke up feeling like I’d gotten enough sleep. Most days I felt like I needed a nap, but then the nap wasn’t awfully helpful either. I assumed it was either the remaining depression symptom that my meds just couldn’t help, or else a medication side effect that was worth living with because it beats the hell out of being suicidal.
Arb had been after me for years to do something to treat my snoring, as much for his comfort as mine. I was resistant – not for any good reason, just stubborn. I didn’t want to have to wear one of those Darth Vader mask machines. I didn’t want another chronic illness diagnosis. I didn’t want to be told losing weight would cure it all, when I’ve snored since I was a medium sized, very active teenager.
This summer I finally gave in and got tested for sleep apnea. The link says people with sleep apnea may stop breathing as many as 30 times an hour – the night I was tested, I stopped breathing an average of 47 times an hour (not sure when I actually was breathing), and my blood oxygen saturation was dipping into the low 80%s. That freaked me the hell out, and I agreed to do a trial with a CPAP machine – the dreaded Darth Vader mask.
The first night with the machine, I had a hell of a time getting comfortable. I think I slept two or three hours at the most. And I woke up… feeling rested! It was the weirdest feeling: the thought of getting out of bed didn’t make me want to cry; I was ready to get up and face the day. And that day, I did ALL THE THINGS, without needing a nap.
The next night I slept six hours, and woke up feeling great in the morning again, with no tiredness-hangover from having done all the things the day before. So I got up and did all the things again. And again and again and again. It’s literally been that kind of night and day change. It seems some very large percentage of what I thought was pure laziness, was actually due to untreated sleep apnea.
I will disclose up front, using a CPAP machine is not all kittens and roses. Or maybe it is, complete with claws and thorns:
- You pretty much have to sleep on your back for the mask to seal properly against your skin, which takes some getting used to
- If the seal breaks during the night, you’re woken up by your whole face blowing a raspberry
- The mask and hose make it awkward to fall asleep in your partner’s arms (but hey, your partner won’t be driven to the sofa by your snores; it’s a trade-off)
On the other hand, besides giving you crappy sleep and pissing off your partner, sleep apnea can:
- increase the risk of high blood pressure, heart attack, stroke, obesity, and diabetes
- increase the risk of heart failure, or if you have heart failure, make it worse
- put you at increased risk of motor vehicle and workplace accidents
- may be linked with depression, though causation has not been established
- in rare cases, it can kill you directly
In conclusion, gentle readers, again I urge you, if you snore, or if you are tired all the time and don’t know why, or especially if you have both those symptoms, go get tested for sleep apnea. I’m telling everybody who will listen in hopes that somebody else can be helped as much as I have been.
This sorta stuff is what makes or breaks relationships. Have you ever caught yourself doing the actions they just mentioned in a video like this? I just did.
Let me tell you a story, but first watch the video .
Pretty high on the useful emotional educational chart if you ask me. But back to my promised anecdote.
This happened not even a week ago – I do my blogging on the weekends, and schedule a week’s worth of posts in a batch – so really this happened today, but in the past when you, gentle readers, get to partake.
My weekend job starts at 7:30am every Saturday and Sunday. When I’m feeling particularly responsible I like to get to bed before 11pm, as we all know getting enough sleep sets one up for at least a semi-productive day. Of course, this Friday was not the case. For some reason the allure of watching an poorly animated Batman featurette trumped my getting to bed before pumpkin time. So, I’m shortening the length of my sleep on the front end – why? – because I’m an idiot some evenings.
My partner, who goes by The Intransigent One (TIO) here on DWR does not work on the weekends and thus can sleep in. All is well and good, except that *this* morning for whatever reason – dust, allergies, the moon, etc.- she begins snoring at about 5:50am. Now, gentle readers, it is almost always a question of magnitude when it comes to the disruption caused by one partner or the other when they bust out the fortissimo eupneic overtures.
It was kinda like this:
Anyhow. I was upset because my morning just got a lot earlier and now in hindsight I realize that I had passed squarely into the Blame zone as indicated in the Dr.Brown video. Was I thinking about the sort of night TIO was having? Nope, nope, nope. I was mad, and turned off the empathy for what may have caused her snoring and focused on blaming her regardless of the context of the situation.
I was mad. I left the lights on in the bedroom (sadly we have to do that now as we begin to tilt away from the sun, I really enjoy the 6am dawn) after I put my clothes on and proceeded to prepare my lunch and gather my computer for work.
Looking back now it is like: Holy Passive-Aggressive Batman! And over what? – 45 minutes of sleep. :(
It is that easy to turn off your connection to the one you love and treasure most in the world. You would think that after taking the p-sychology courses and a fairly steady diet of sociological/psychological reading one would be able to stop shit like that in its tracks.
I wish.
But back to the story, I look forward to going home, apologizing for being a doofus, and then having a nice nap to catch up on what I missed this morning.
Nap time and snuggles incoming! :)
All will be well once again. :)
How I (mostly) feel about video games
I grew up playing with Barbies and reading books, and didn’t really use a computer for anything other than basic word processing until around the turn of the century. On top of that, I have really bad hand-eye coordination, and not great depth perception, so simulated 3D environments just break my brain. In other words, video games are not something at which I’m primed for success. I’ve never made it past the first hole you have to jump over in the original Mario game. Ever.
Arb really enjoys video games, and over our years together, he’s tried to get me involved. I end up getting stuck in a door or falling off a cliff repeatedly or getting lost or just getting shot a lot and having no idea where I’m getting shot from. (On one memorable occasion, it was Arb shooting me in the back, running in a circle around me and keeping just ahead of me awkwardly spinning around trying to see what was happening.) And then I get mad and quit.
Now, I’m trying again. Read the rest of this entry »
The front flowerbed at Arb’s and my place is starting to take off – perennials that I’ve planted over the couple years we’ve owned the house, are established enough now, that they can dedicate some energy to blooming! Of course, weather that’s good for flowers is also good for weeds, and our weed crop is plentiful, so I was out pulling weeds yesterday evening.
Working in the front yard is not a peaceful and relaxing experience for me. I feel self-conscious about bending over with my back to the street and my butt in the air and often get into weird positions trying to avoid it. I’m on edge and there’s a constant stream of snarky comebacks and verbal self-defense going on in my head, along with self-pep-talks about how this is my yard and I have the right to be in it and what I look like while doing yardwork is nobody’s business.
Why?
In a word: men.
Like last night when a carload of young men appeared seemingly out of nowhere, yelled something about my fat ass, and peeled out with a screech of tires and raucous laughter.
This shit doesn’t happen super-often – not every time I’m out in the front yard, for example. But it’s often enough that anticipating it and steeling myself against it, takes a non-negligible portion of my mental CPU cycles. It doesn’t matter that not every man who passes by harasses me, and that in general not all men harass women. Enough men harass women often enough, that being on guard against it is an almost-constant thing you do, if you’re a woman.
Greetings and good day gentle readers. It is that time of year again where we talk about changing patterns during the holiday season and bemoan the rampant commercialization of Christmas. I have to admit I have a poorly kept secret. I don’t give holiday presents anymore. Instead all the people who are near and dear to me get a card and a message that, in their name, a Turkey has been donated to a family in need.
Let me assure you, it is a great tradition to start. I recommend you start your tradition of giving this very year – because everyone wins if people don’t go hungry.
The Turkey Drive starts today! So yes, so go to the cbc.ca website and start the donating, early and often :)
I won’t guarantee Holiday Happiness, but helping others is a great place to start.
I think so much at once kinda sucks. 20cm and still accumulating…
The view from my front window.
bleatmop
Mystro
The Arbourist
Dead Wild Roses 
Your opinions…