I’m. Too Sexy For My Bed.
I’ve been terribly remiss about following up on my fascinating health saga this fall, mostly because I’ve been feeling so terrific I’ve been doing stuff instead of writing about it in my blog. Shame on me!
My sleep study in August made it clear that I had severe sleep apnea (duh). I was ceasing breathing over 100 times per hour. Yikes!
Going into it, my worry wasn’t was that I would get that diagnosis (that’s what I expected to happen). My concern was that I would have trouble with the mask and the CPAP machine.
Well my anxiety was unfounded. I took to the CPAP like Courtney Love to a spoon of black tar heroin.
CPAP stands for Continuous Positive Air Pressure, and it’s just that: A mask covers your nose and pushes air up into your head. This creates a sort of bubble which keeps the tissues in your throat open so that your breathing stays normal and you consequently fall into blissful REM sleep
It’s true that the whole mask experience takes a bit of getting used to. In my case, it took about 30 seconds.
DO YOU WANT ME NOW?
Sweet Dreams Are Made of This
The machine itself is about the size of a squared-off shoebox. It has a built in humidifier which I have to fill every night with distilled water. I have to take the machine with me everywhere I go. It will go on the plane with me, and the airline cannot count it as my carry-on. It will be examined and searched (it has bomb-convenient cavities, after all) but I can by law insist the security morons change their gloves before they touch it.
The mask will get replaced every six months. The mask and the hose have to be regularly cleaned, as does the distilled water reservoir.
In short, the whole contraption is a big pain in the ass.
And I LOVE IT.
COMING NEXT: Life With a Little Oxygen on the Brain!
