Until I Was Diagnosed with Sleep Apnea Syndrome

It seems like my breathing stops at night.

I thought someone was pulling my arm with incredible force, and when I came to, my wife, who was sleeping next to me, told me with a worried look,
“Your breathing has stopped.”
she said.

Lately, I have been uncontrollably sleepy during the day. Especially when I am driving alone, there are times when my consciousness completely fades away.

The final blow was a notification from the smartwatch I bought to check for sleep apnea syndrome, which said, “You have moderate or severe sleep apnea syndrome.” Furthermore, I was surprised by information I happened to see on a TV program stating that “the 10-year mortality rate for people who do not treat sleep apnea syndrome is 10% to 20%.”

That is why I gave up and decided to go to a nearby sleep clinic.

When I explained my symptoms in the doctor's office, a female doctor—who seemed less like a veteran and more like someone who had been a veteran for a long time—explained apnea to me. I think the doctor was explaining it to me enthusiastically at first, but halfway through, she became absorbed in the explanation itself. Gradually, I couldn't tell if she was talking to me or talking to herself, and I felt silly nodding along. Then, the situation started to become funny, and just as I was getting bored with the story, the doctor's long explanation ended. In the end, it was decided that I would have a simple test at home and an overnight hospital stay for further testing.

Two weeks later, the day of the overnight test arrived. I ate dinner, took a shower, and checked into the hospital before 7:00 PM. I was shown to a room that looked like a business hotel, and since they would be attaching the equipment from 7:50 PM, I changed clothes and waited until then. The room was dim and it seemed difficult to read a book, so I read the news on my smartphone.

When the time came, two nurses arrived and attached measuring instruments to my head, chest, ankles, and so on. Whether it was my head or my arm, they didn't care; they scrubbed my skin with something like a file to attach the instruments. The nurses scrubbed so hard that it was painful enough to make me want to cry out. Many instruments were also attached to my head, and then a net was placed over my head to keep them from coming off. The net dug into my face, and I wondered if a mandarin orange feels this way too.
Finally, they cut a hole in the net where my face was. I was told to lie on the bed to check the connections. The nurses went to the measurement room, and they checked the instruments remotely by having me turn to the side and move my eyes.

After the check was finished, the nurses returned to the room and said,

“Are you going to wake up?”

I thought, it's just past 8:00, there's no way I'm going to sleep yet, but when I looked at the nurse's face, she had a look that suggested, “Oh, you're not sleeping?” and I faltered for a moment, but

“I'm not sleeping yet,”

I replied. Then, they bundled the wires from the measuring instruments and hung them over my shoulder like a kindergartner's bag, but it was hard to move, so it didn't seem like I would be able to stay awake for long. Since I was at it, I spent about an hour taking a commemorative photo of my face inside the net, and then I decided to go to sleep.

I was told that since the measuring instruments are connected to wires when sleeping, I should call a nurse to disconnect them if I need to go to the bathroom. I thought it would be a hassle to call someone just to go to the bathroom.

I thought it was still early, but I fell asleep in no time. When I realized it, it was the middle of the night, and I woke up to the sound of an older woman's voice shouting angrily somewhere. It seems someone who sleepwalks badly was also being tested.
At that point, thinking, “I wonder if I need to go to the bathroom, what time is it...” was a mistake. There was no clock in sight to help me sleep well during the test, and my smartphone was turned off and out of reach because it might affect the test, so I didn't know the time. Not knowing something that is usually easy to know is very unsettling. I couldn't sleep at all and felt restless.

When I realized it, a small black dog with bloodshot eyes pointing in strange directions was biting my left ring finger. What is this dog! I swung my hand around, but the dog wouldn't let go at all, and then I realized I was hitting my left hand against the pillow. The oxygen saturation monitor for the test was firmly attached to my ring finger. I was relieved that it wasn't a dog and fell asleep. Then, I was woken up by a voice calling my name, the measuring instruments were removed while I was still groggy, and I was discharged at 6:10 AM.

Two weeks later, I was diagnosed with severe sleep apnea syndrome and started sleeping every night with a machine called a CPAP. A CPAP is a machine that sends air through a mask attached to the nose, preventing the base of the tongue, which sags due to gravity while sleeping, from blocking the airway.
Since I started using the CPAP, my sleep duration hasn't changed, but I feel much more refreshed. I hear that some people have trouble getting used to it, but it seems to have suited me. From now on, I will make sure never to let go of my CPAP every night. Just like that black dog I saw in my dream back then.