CPAP – Three Week Review, Plus Chainsaw Hands. Because Everyone Wants Chainsaw Hands.

“I heard Sutler’s going to make a public statement tonight . . . It’s nearly time.  The masks were ingenious.  It was strange to suddenly see your face everywhere.” – V for Vendetta

Oh, my, this is sexy!  It’s either a Halloween costume or . . . a CPAP mask.  I wish my CPAP mask was this cool.  Then I could take over Britain.  But I guess I’d have to get in line . . .   Photo credit – somewhere on the internet.

Okay, I promise I won’t keep going on and on about the Continuous Positive Air Pressure (CPAP) breathing device – this is just a three week (and likely final) review of the device unless something significant comes up.  My first post on this is here (Sleep Apnea, CPAP, and how the Medical Mafia is Killing You).

First comment:

The name.  CPAP.  I just sounds . . . icky.   I think it might be the “pap” part.  “Pap” is defined as a soft food for infants, a “Pap” smear is a woman’s parts test that I don’t want to even know about, “pap” is also defined as “nonsense,” and “pap” is also South African slang for “spineless and without character.”

No, a really bad name.  I, John Wilder, suggest that in its place we call it “life-giving energy machine.”  Heck, even something more specific like “Sleep Suffocation Harm Reduction And Care” is better, and has a much cooler acronym – SSHARC.  Shark.  That sounds cool, like something you could tattoo on your bicep (ladies, you could just put the SSHARC . . . nowhere – iffin’ you’re a lady, you don’t get a tat).    And it’s true:  untreated sleep apnea can cause a host of problems like arrhythmia (which leads to stroke), heart failure, diabetes, and that little rash under your wristwatch band if you wear it all the time.

Next:  The machine is quiet.  I half expected it to sound like Darth Vader was on my bedside table, but it was not at all loud – I think the dwarves (Tolkien dwarves from the underworld, not little people) we keep in the closet make a lot more noise, especially when they nip into the mead.  I can’t even hear it at all unless I open my mouth.  To sleep with a CPAP, you have to have your mouth closed.  Totally closed.  The air pressure is jammed into your nose, so that when you inhale, your throat can’t close up (which makes the snoring sound).  When I open my mouth with the CPAP on, I get the (really weird) feeling of exhaling through my mouth without moving my lungs.  Weird.  It also makes a “whooshing” sound, like the end of Quentin Tarantino’s career.

I slept through the night the first time I used my CPAP.  No issues.  I’ve checked the readings, and the number of sleep apneas I’m having is now . . . zero.  And the number of times I breathe shallowly during the night (hypopnea) is one or two.  This is considered super-human.  So that means I’m a man-machine now?  Maybe.  I can crush cans with my machine hands.  Oh, wait, they’re regular hands – and the cans are aluminum, so they’re easy to crush.  Maybe my doctor will prescribe chainsaw hands?  Yeah.

If we all had chainsaw hands, then almost 18,000 chainsaw injuries to the hands could have been stopped in 1994!  Call your congressman NOW to demand that all hands be replaced with chainsaws today.  And that we develop time machines so people in 1994 can be saved from chainsaw related head trauma. 

For those that SSHARC (or, CPAP, if you must) has helped, it becomes a near-obsession.  Most fanatics won’t go a single night without CPAP – or even a single nap.  I have noticed that my daytime drowsiness level continues to drop.  That’s very nice for me and anyone else on the highway as I drive.  As the old saying goes, “I want to die in my sleep, like grandpa; not screaming like the passengers in his car.”

There are listed side effects:  allergies and sinus impacts that seem to bother some people.  So far, not me.  My eyes are much puffier, which the folks put down to an insufficiently tight mask blowing air into my eyes at night, but I also think that there might be something to do with a radically different blood chemistry (less CO₂) and less stress hormones from not choking yourself (so to speak) every night.  This has been the most significant side effect I’ve seen personally, but it’s fairly common according to Google®.  More severe side effects appear to be edema (fluid retention) in folks that aren’t having any sort of problems that would normally cause fluid retention.  That’s more difficult to deal with, since  (according to the message boards) doctors seem to think that edema would be some sort of witchcraft that can only be fought with sacrifice of a virgin – and California doctors seem to be all out.

Per the studies I could find, the minimum amount of therapy required for significant death reduction is 5 of 7 nights, 4 hours nightly, which seems low to me.  But, hey, I didn’t take the data.  However, the message board people (again) wouldn’t fly in an airplane and sleep without using their CPAP.

About 54% of users stick with CPAP after being prescribed.  15% give up after an average of 10 months of trying, and 31% . . . never started.  These percentages are nice, because they add up to 100%, so you know they must be accurate.  I just wonder how many of the 31% never start because of the stupid name.  CPAP.  Ugh.

I’ve found the following personal benefits – I’ve got more energy during workouts – a lot more.  I can exercise harder and for longer duration, about 40% more.  I’ve also got a “more full feeling” (less desire to eat), which I hear is a benefit of not getting choked every night.  I tried to replicate these findings, but The Mrs. seemed to object with me randomly choking her for two minutes 10 or so times an hour.  She’s so closed minded!  This is ¡Science!  How dare The Mrs. oppose ¡Science! by not letting me choke her ten times an hour?

And, obviously, since I’m getting better sleep, I’m not as sleepy during the day.  Since nobody is choking me.  Except The Mrs. in some weird retaliation.  I mean, she’s not even writing down the results, so her choking me isn’t science, right?

The weirdest side effect?  My dreams have been much more vivid.  And not always good.  I rarely have nightmares, but I’ve had several since starting CPAP.  And these aren’t your normal nightmares – these are nightmares that make Silence of the Lambs look like a Pixar® movie.  I mean, there were both Kardashians and Madonna® in that dream.  Ugh.  I still feel like I need to take a shower.

My only theory is that previously my sleep would have been disrupted and I would have woken up.  I’ve always had the ability to alter my dreams when they got too weird, and I still can, but in order for me to alter the dream, I have to realize I’m dreaming – and these dreams are so very vivid that on several occasions in that “drowsy-waking up” time, I’ve been convinced these dreams were real.  So, I’m either sleeping better or I’ve got a “back order” of vivid, crappy dreams I have to have to catch up with everybody else on planet Earth.  You poor, poor, people.

Regardless, I’m going to experiment a bit – maybe try a night without the CPAP SSHARC to see how that goes . . . I’ve been 100% compliant for the past three weeks, and maybe, just maybe, I’m feeling a bit naughty.

Call me a rebel.  A SSHARC rebel.  Yeah.  But no SSHARC tattoos for me.  They’ll just get droopy and look like bad cartoons when I go into the old folks home.

Note:  I AM NOT A DOCTOR!  This blog is just my strange, odd, and personal experience:  don’t do any of this nonsense without talking to your doctor.  Really.  I’m not a good role model.  I’m what the warning label said NOT to do.  Except ladies, don’t get a tat.  Really.  Ugh.