I snore. There, I said it.
I snore most likely because I used to grind my teeth. And that was because of stress. I had a dental guard to stop the wearing of my teeth (I no longer have canines), but I stopped wearing it because it was so awkward (have I mentioned I have a terrible gag reflex?), so I trained myself to keep my mouth open.
And when you do that, you end up snoring. Alex, love her, only ever mentioned it, never complained. (But she started wearing earplugs. So there’s that.)
For the record, snoring is not good for you. It causes distention in your throat, and you can end up where your air passage actually stops up and you stop breathing. And you get less oxygen, and your heart suffers, and so on and so on and so on. It’s a nasty cascade.
My doctor sent me for a sleep analysis. Which involves a computer, chest expansion sensors (are you breathing), oxygen monitor (I never go above 97%, and apparently drop as low as 80%), a microphone (to detect snoring, plus a positional sensor to find out how much you move about), and a hose in the entrance of the nostrils to detect airflow.
Spoiler: I have moderate sleep apnea. Enough that I need treatment.
The solution is a CPAP machine. Literally the last thing I wanted. The idea of having a mask over my face while I sleep is akin to [CENSORED] life support, in my view. It also means no rolling over. I literally went through the 7 Stages of Grief prior to showing up to this morning’s setup appointment at Aveiro Sleep.
CPAP, in case you’re wondering, is Continuous Positive Airway Pressure. It’s literally an air pump. It’s purpose is to force air into your lungs so you don’t asphyxiate. Sounds dramatic, I know, but that’s what it does. The catch is how it does it. And this is where I failed.
Ultimately, air needs to go in. And that means a mask – whole or partial – fitted over your nose or face. The tech tried my nose first. For that, I needed to try on headgear that strapped a silicone hose onto my nostrils, with fitted protuberances that sealed off my nostrils. Awkward, but it felt okay … until she turned the pump on.
Now, we’re not talking high-pressure. This isn’t compressed air, it’s just a small pump that takes regular room air. But it was enough that I gagged almost immediately. (Have I mentioned that I have a bad gag reflex?) She switched me to a different hose that doesn’t seal as tightly. But no difference, I was peeling it off and trying not heave within a couple of seconds.
The last attempt was the face mask. It looks a bit like a fighter pilot’s mask, covering the nose and mouth, requiring more strapping. Literally, this was the Worst Case Scenario. Not uncomfortable, per se, but I was definitely dreading the thought of trying sleep with this thing. Not that it mattered much – three breaths and the forced air did me in again. Something in my sinuses really does not like having air pumped in.
Now here’s the fun part. You’d think I would have been relieved after this: I don’t have to wear a CPAP, after all! I was, in fact, pissed off, highly frustrated that my physiology was working against me. (And that my stress levels had put me into this position.) I wiped away angry tears as the technician explained that CPAP might not work for me, and that I needed to back to my doctor and ask about other alternatives (like, surgery).
Mid-life and dealing with an inability to sleep properly. Go figure.
What am I doing in the meantime? Well, my doctor had suggested that, until I had a chance to get in with a CPAP fitting (which she recommended) to try using those nasal strips designed to open the nasal passages and – some of you will be laughing your asses off, crying: “It’s about bloody time someone did this!” – taping my mouth shut. (It’s not as dramatic as you think, it’s one strip that restricts my mouth opening.) Is it working? I’m not snoring. But short of another sleep test, I can’t tell.
The problem is that I don’t see my doctor until late January. (Which will involve a review of my new anti-depressants and a blood test after three months without any alcohol to find out what’s up with my liver. It’s going to be a busy appointment.) Hopefully I don’t asphyxiate before then…
