"Sleeping" with a CPAP - Night #1

So ... yeah ... my first night with a CPAP.  I was more than a little nervous, but determined to do everything the doctor and the DME tech said to give this rather odd piece of equipment a try.  I read the manual, made sure I had everything all prepped and ready to go, got in to bed at a nice decent hour. I think it was around 9:45pm by the time I had hooked myself up and settled in.  Turned the machine on, hit the "ramp" button, and let Brian tuck me in and kiss me goodnight.  He had the sweetest, most loving and hopeful expression on his face and in his voice.  It was almost heartbreaking.  I then settled in (taking a couple of OTC sleep aids just to help that little bit more), waiting for the magical unicorns to carry me off to my first decent night's sleep in close to a year.

Not. Even. Close.

While I can't say that last night was the worst night in my 44 years on this planet, I'm pretty sure it was in the Top 10.  Right up there among food poisoning and/or stomach flu, pain so bad from a neck injury that I couldn't move without waking up and wanting to scream, and the time I got into a middle of the night fight with my loving partner and he walked out without speaking a word leaving me awake for the next 36 hours certain that he was never coming back.

Yeah, that good.

The machine didn't hurt me, nor did I feel any sense of claustrophobia at first.  It felt kind of strange, but I was certain if I could just get to sleep, I wouldn't notice the odd air pressure blowing into my nostrils.  But no matter what I did, I could not fall asleep.  I lay on my back, curled up on my side, rolled over to the other side, spread out my arms and legs ... nothing.  I think I may have managed to doze fitfully for 5-10 minutes some time around 11:30pm.  And with each sleepless minute, the machine with it's breathing pressure kept feeling more and more odd.  More and more oppressive. More and more suffocating.  I was certain my headgear was slipping, or my chin strap wasn't tight enough, or too tight, or something, so I kept repositioning it.  I was sure the thing was leaking air, or blowing it in the wrong place, or just plain malfunctioning.  I couldn't even talk, or moan, or cry, without the whole pressure system going nuts and disrupting itself.

And moan and cry I did.  I wanted to sleep, goddammit!  Why wasn't I able to fall asleep?  Isn't that what this fucking machine was supposed to help me do?

Finally my strangled attempts at sobs were heard by Brian, who came into the room to help me.  I found his presence extremely comforting.  He held my hand, and stroked my hair, and finally helped me sit up so that I could re-adjust my mask and everything.  He lay down beside me to snuggle, as that will often help calm me into a more restful mode.  Nope.  Nothing.  I even had him get me one of my leftover Vicodin, hoping that, on top of the Benadryl, would knock me out.  I tried sitting up and reading, in the hopes that I'd get sleepy enough to just nod off.  Nope.  Lay back down and tried putting my eye pillow over my eyes in the hopes that would help (it often does, especially when I'm being kept awake by a headache).  Nope.  Though I'll admit it did provide a humorous moment as I accidentally turned on one of my "adult toys" in my nightstand while reaching for said eye pillow, and then had to frantically dig to find it while simultaneously reassuring Brian that the odd buzzing noise was not my CPAP suddenly gone haywire.

So there I lay, sleepless, focusing on breathing in and out to the unnatural pressure of the CPAP machine, as the clock ticked past midnight, past 12:30am, approaching the 1:00am hour.  Meanwhile, I kept thinking about the 7:00am conference call that I had scheduled in order to get some final resolution on a critical project that my manager was already getting impatient to have a final result on.  I needed to get some decent sleep in order to do my job effectively.  My mind started going into a panic about all the things I needed to do, and couldn't do effectively without sleep, and all of the potential consequences if I couldn't get things done.  The CPAP started feeling more and more oppressive.  I couldn't control my breathing any more.  I was heading really fast into full blown anxiety and panic.

And then it happened.  I don't think I've ever had an honest to god panic attack before, but I'm pretty sure this was one of them.  I was convinced I was going to die, right then and there.  I ripped the headgear and mask off my face, threw it to the ground and ran out of my bedroom screaming.  No, seriously, running and screaming.  FitBit even registered it as an "active minute".  And by screaming, I'm talking every ounce of vocal power available to a classically trained operatic soprano, emitting out of my lungs and hurling through my vocal folds at top pitch and volume.  At 1:00 in the morning.  On a weeknight.  After which I threw myself on my hands and knees onto the hardwood floors of the living room and bawled my eyes out.  No, not just sobbed this time, but bawled. I'm pretty sure it included some begging of a higher deity to take me then and put me out of my misery.

Brian told me I should expect at the very least a neighbor or two coming by to see who had been murdered, but more likely, a visit from the King County Sherriff's Office.  So far, that hasn't happened.  He also offered to take me to the closest ER, either to get a sleep aid prescription or check myself in as a mental health inpatient.  I'm still contemplating that last one.  A padded cell and tranquilizers sound pretty damned good right now.

And I don't think I can ever forgive myself for the look of utter helplessness and despair on Brian's face.  He was so optimistic.  So certain that I was going to take to the CPAP like a duck to water, and immediately begin sleeping well again.  It must have been something I did wrong.  And not only did I ruin my sleep, I ruined his as well.  I'm not sure if I could hate myself any more than I do at this very moment.

After adding to the sleep induction cocktail of my night a half-shot of rum (Kraken, of course), mixed in with a cup of throat coat tea to soothe the raspy raw pain that had become my throat, I started to calm down enough to fall asleep on the couch about 30 minutes later.  Shortly afterward to be woken up by Brian's snoring.  I managed to drag myself off the couch and stagger off to the bedroom for another few hours of my typical crappy, interrupted sleep.  I think I might have managed 2 hours of total slumber for the night. 

So much for the miracle sleep cure of the CPAP machine.

And that 7:00am call?  Yeah, I made it.  It did not go well.  Thank goodness for understanding colleagues who don't necessarily freak out when you lose it and start to cry on a conference call.  Thanks even more to an understanding manager who did not take this as an indication of my total and utter incompetence, not to mention refuses to let me move to New Zealand to become a sheep herder.  No, really, I had a coworker who got so stressed out in her job last year that she moved to New Zealand.  I don't think she is raising sheep though.  That was my addition.  What can I say?  I like sheep.  And lambs.  Mmmmmm ... tasty, tasty lambs ...  But no, really, my boss is so amazingly awesome.  She actually had to make me log off my work computer and told me to go take care of myself.  Granted, she also wants in on the whole sheep-raising venture.  For the wool, to spin and knit with.  I have so many friends I could hook her up with ...

And now, I'm kind of in a panic as to what to do.  I'm exhausted, but I can't sleep because of the apnea.  But I can't use the CPAP for the apnea, because it freaks me out and gives me panic attacks. I'm supposed to be spending the weekend at Norwescon (a SciFi/Fantasy convention held in Seattle over Easter weekend every year -- remember the whole "I'm a nerd" thing in Blog Post #1?)  But I honestly don't know what is going to happen to me if I try to do my whole CPAP acclimation thing in a hotel room.  I think I have a whole hour before I can cancel my hotel reservation without paying a penalty.

On top of all that, I have become that annoying "squeaky wheel" patient who calls her doctor on every little issue and calls back every 2 hours if she doesn't get a decent response.  I never thought I'd be *that* patient.  On the up side, this "squeaky wheel" did finally manage to get a prescription for Ambien.  In fact, that just now happened, as I was typing this blog post.  My last phone call at 4:30pm managed to get through.  Hallelujia!

Pray for me that it all works tonight.