A few months ago, I was having trouble sleeping. I went to my doctor, who scheduled a sleep test. I was a bit concerned about the test. Would they find a problem? -- or they find nothing -- making me a malingerer?
At the sleep test facility, the technician attached at least fifteen electrodes and sensors to my head and body. The wiring was to monitor such things as breathing, heart rate, brain waves, eye movement, jaw pressure, and leg movement.
Around ten o'clock, as I started to fall asleep, I experienced extreme twitches in my legs. I have twitchy legs, but nothing like this. Next when I fell asleep, I had severe sleep apnea, continually waking, because I stopped breathing in my sleep.
The intercom voice told me that the sensors had detected leg twitches and apnea. I agreed.
Time went by with fitful sleep, then the technician came in and gave me a CPAP mask to put over my face. The mask, lashed tightly around my head, put positive air pressure over my nose. When I opened my mouth, air rushed out, forcing me to keep my mouth shut while sleeping.
The mask made the apnea sensation worse. Terminally restless legs and not breathing made sleep for more than a few minutes impossible.
Time went by. The intercom lectured me: "You have to get in six hours of sleep or the insurance company won't pay for this test. I don't think you would like having to pay the bill."
Well, that warning didn't help me slip into REM sleep. I was miffed by intercom's attitude.
Eventually the tech brought in a new mask. This one tightly covered both my nose and mouth. Now when I woke up not breathing, I felt claustrophobic, trying to rip off the mask.
The intercom, frustrated by my lack of cooperation, asked me if I could had time to stay later, so I could get in the required six hours. I said yes.
The tech came into the room, took away the CPAP mask, and put me on oxygen. Finally, I fell into deep sleep.
The intercom interrupted, "Time to get up it said."
"What time is it?" I asked.
"Five forty-five."
"How could I have gotten in six hours of sleep?" I thought.
On the way out, I overheard the technician talking about the poor guy who had a terrible sleep night.
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This was a night from hell--orders of magnitude worse than anything I have ever experienced before or after.
A few days later, I realized that before I started the test, I had probably forgotten to take the pills I take each night. It was a night of withdrawal. At least I didn't have the shame of being outed a malingerer.
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