Brainsprain.net

When my doctor asked me to get a sleep study, I really didn’t have any clue what to expect. I read all the descriptions online and found them vague and not particularly useful. I therefore decided to write as complete a description as possible for others so they might know what, exactly, to expect. This is an account of my sleep study. Your mileage will vary.
I drove downtown to the hospital where the sleep lab is. The directions told me to park in a parking lot across the street from the emergency room. Across the street from the emergency room is apartments that say, “Resident Parking Only.” Hmm, I think, maybe I missed it. I go back and find a gated parking lot marked “Employee Parking Only”, then Concordia University — no parking lot. Finally, I parked in the central garage, dreading the tolls for parking my car there overnight.
Lesson One: It’s not enough to know where it is. Know where to park.
I go in through ER, like my directions said, and being there for a sleep study, tried not to look at anyone who might amp my stress levels. To clarify that, I’m downtown at 7:30pm in an ER. Deep breaths helped. They sent me to ER dismissal to get checked in. Yes, I know, it seemed backwards to me, too. They put a band on my wrist and called the sleep
lab to send someone to come get me. My sleep technician showed up and took me to the sleep lab. After getting comfortable in a room very reminiscent of a hotel room (not a standard hospital room at all), we talked for a while
about sleep apnea, and what would happen during the course of the night. I changed into my PJs and then we talked about the CPAP machine. She had some masks for me to try out so she wouldn’t have to go through that when I was
incoherent and mostly asleep at 1:45 or 2:00 when she would put me on the machine IF I met certain criteria. All the masks I tried fit over only the nose, and when I tried the first one, I knew that this was gonna be very weird. Imagine having a loved one (or stranger, since we’re imagining) put their mouth completely over your nose and then blow gently. Talking with one on results in a weird sensation and sound. You sound like you’re talking while holding your nose and choking at the same time, as all the air blowing in your nose is now blowing out your mouth along with the air that’s supposed to be supporting your speech. I quickly reverted to hand signals to answer her questions. I rejected the first one. The padding around the edges was uncomfortable. The second one was a little better, but I was worried about the extensive web of velcro straps interfering with my sleep. Finally, we decided on the model I’ll call the “Elephant Borg” — mask attached to a bizarre headgear… Oh well, it was comfy by comparison… Once we decided on that, we proceded to wire me up to the polysomnogram machine.
She started by taking a red china marker and a measuring tape and making marks all over my head. After that, she applied some kind of exfoliant to my scalp where the leads would be attached. This was all oddly soothing, though it
might sound scary. Then she started attaching the leads to my head with a special adhesive. It had the consistency of toothpaste, and she dipped a little metal circle attached to a wire in the adhesive, pressed it into my hair and put a piece of gauze on top. By the time she was done with my noggin, there were probably 15 – 20 wires connected to my head. I didn’t count them, so this number might be off. I was also sleepy, so please no flames for a miscount. It was vaguely reminiscent of when I had longish hair, only the hair was very stiff and needed conditioner. Sonic the Hedgehog, maybe. We weren’t done yet. She then stuck two leads near my eyes, two on my chin, one on my forehead, and one on each leg. She put a strap with a sensor around my chest and another one around my tummy. She put a microphone on my throat “to catch any snoring sounds.” I joked that she wouldn’t need it, and the folks from ER might come over and ask us to keep it down. I got in bed, which is trickier than it sounds being so wired up. She then put a plastic tube around my ears and into my nose like how they administer oxygen, only this was checking output. By this time, my night time medication had done its job and I was ready to pass out. She turned off the lights, I rolled over into the my patented and trademarked standard sleep position, and… bonk.
Gone. I had no trouble falling asleep.

I woke up to her repositioning a lead that had come loose on my head. Bonk. Gone again.

She woke me up at 1:45 and said she was going to start me on the CPAP. She removed the nose hose and (after a quick if somewhat complicated trip down the hall to the restroom) hooked me up to the ElephantBorg 2000. Lights went
back out and now there was a humming sound in the room. It was soothing, and even the feel of the mask on my face wasn’t uncomfortable, as I feared it might be. The unfamiliar pressure in my nose, throat, and lungs, though, was really difficult to get used to. Breathing in was awesome. No work at all. Breathing out, well, that was a different story. That took work. I believe she was calibrating it, but if so, she was in the other room and I had no idea. It seemed to sometimes be harder and sometimes be easier, but that might have been my imagination. It seemed to take a really long time to go back to sleep (I asked her in the morning — it took 25 minutes for me to go back to sleep once the CPAP had been put on). Also, my usual sleeping position wasn’t as comfortable. I ended up rolling on to my back, which was suddenly comfortable like it’s never been. Bonk. Gone.

My tech woke me up at 5:45 and took me through some end-of-test calibrations and started pulling wires off me. I washed the adhesive out of my hair (special stuff that dissolves in water warmer than 110°F) and got dressed and drove home.

I’m pretty confident that I have sleep apnea, but a CPAP is gonna take some getting used to if they decide to put me on it.