According to Sleep Sources (How Many People Have Sleep Apnea? 51 Statistics (sleepsources.com), around 22million people in the US have some form of sleep apnea. I am now one of them. When I took the sleep test, I was sure it would come back normal, but it didn’t. I’ve had sleep problems since I was a child due to anxiety, depression, and nightmares, but I never imagined as an adult I’d need a machine to help me breathe at night. This starts my tale of sleeping with a CPAP machine.
When I learned I needed a CPAP machine, I was very unhappy. How could I sleep with a mask over my face? My friend Cheryl told me she gets the best sleep she has ever had since she got hers. Another friend told me she can’t stand her CPAP. She’s tried several masks and none of them makes her feel comfortable. She told me her sleep has been worse than before the CPAP.
Which person would I be? The one who got the best sleep or the one who couldn’t stand the mask? I began to dread getting my CPAP. The more stories I heard, the more I hated the idea of a mask over my face at night.
When I told my psychiatrist I had sleep apnea, he said I will probably be able to get off my sleeping medication once I got used to it. He assured me I would be able to sleep much better. I’ve been on sleeping medication for years. It would be great to get off of them, but I still had my doubts about sleeping with something on my face.
After a month of worrying about the machine, I finally got a call for an appointment. The day of my appointment the GPS took us to a neighborhood a few miles away from the actual destination. I had to call to get directions and we ended up fifteen minutes late. The appointment seemed easy. The technician showed me two masks and I chose one. She fitted it to my head. She explained the machine and had me sit for a few minutes with the mask on and the machine turned on. It seemed simple enough.
My first night I struggled. The sound of air leaking out of the mask kept me playing with the mask to adjust it. Each time I got up to go to the bathroom I removed my mask, and it only became more uncomfortable to put it back on. So, I tried to just unhook the hose, but this long hose protruded from my nose like a creature’s tentacle reaching out to suck the oxygen from me. I awoke in the morning more tired than before.
The second night I slept off and on as I adjusted my mask to stop the leakage and to stare at the creature’s tentacle hanging from my nose. I shivered at the tentacle; it threatened me and caused my insides to twist. My husband asked me if I had it on correctly since he could hear it. By seven a.m. I couldn’t take it anymore and took the mask off. I didn’t need to get up until nine but there was no use lying in bed when I couldn’t sleep anyway. I got up and ate breakfast and rested on the couch. I drifted off to sleep. Then my alarm sounded to remind me to catch the bus, and I scrambled to get to work. At work I yawned and pushed my way through while fighting exhaustion.
Sleeping with the CPAP already seemed like a nightmare. How could I continue with this darn machine? Will I ever be able to get off sleeping medication? So far it seemed like I was in a horror story. The hose protruding from my nose haunted me, it leaked air and my anxiety began to heighten. I got an email from an App for my CPAP machine suggesting I tighten my mask to stop the leakage.
The following night I tightened the mask. The leakage stopped, but the rubber around the nose piece touched my nostrils when I breathed. It was like the tentacle hanging from the front of my mask was reaching up my nose to suffocate me. I tried to adjust the mask, taking it off and putting it on several times, but the anxiety and feeling of suffocating worsened. I struggled with it all night and by morning I couldn’t even stand to look at it. I put it on the nightstand and went downstairs.
I texted Cheryl, “I can’t stand my CPAP.”
I explained to her the feeling of suffocation. She told me to call the technician to see if I could try another mask. The problem was it was Sunday and there was no way I was going to put the mask on again for another night. I lay down on the couch and slept until my husband came home. A little bit after he got home, I went to work.
I stood behind my register at the grocery store anxious and exhausted. My insides shivered and twisted. Tears threatened to pour from my eyes, but I fought to control them. I waited on customers while trying to force a smile. I swallowed hard as the swell of tears grew. I shut off my light and told the coordinator I was going to the rest room. I sat in a stall bawling and texting my husband in between tears. He told me to tell them I needed to go home and he was coming to get me. By the time I left the store my anxiety was out of control. When my husband pulled up, I got in and continued to cry as I became nauseated. I gagged and got sick on myself. At home Lou led me to the couch and I slept for several hours.
The next morning, I felt very weak and ran down. I called off work and I called the technician. She had no available appointments until Friday. There was no way I was going to wear that mask until then. I slept without it. On Friday she fitted me with a new nose mask that formed like a tent over my nose and the hose attached to the top of the mask on my head.
That night I sat on my couch with the mask on and the CPAP running for a half hour, and I made it through. No anxiety. I still worried about sleeping in it. So, when I went to bed later, I struggled with some anxiety that kept me awake for a little bit. I kept talking to myself, telling myself I was safe, and I could sleep. I eventually fell asleep and slept throughout the night. I had no anxiety the next morning.
I’m still adjusting to the CPAP and its mask, but I know I’m on the right path. I’m holding on tight to the hope to eventually get off sleep medication and to feel rested every morning. The tales of the CPAP will continue. For now, I stand in the light of recovery adjusting to a new challenge.
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