My Night in a Sleep Lab with a Chatty Cathy

When Dr. Yeh, my sleep doctor, first told me he was recommending an overnight study to better understand my sleep disorder, I felt anxious. My family told me to be excited that I might finally get some relief, but I remained skeptical after five torturous years of being unable to control my nocturnality.

Sensors

It wasn’t having a dozen sensors and wires attached to me that made me anxious. It wasn’t having to sleep an hour from home in what I was promised would be a hotel-like setting (not my kind of hotel, though). And it wasn’t even the prospect of a “sleep technician” observing me all night.

What gave me the greatest pause was the “no devices rule.” No iPhone. No laptop. No Kindle. For nearly two months, I dreaded being unplugged for 8 hours or less. Little did I know that would be the least of my woes.

Dr. Yeh prescribed two Ambiens to help with my intermittent awakenings. I kept them tucked away in a drawer and waited patiently for my appointment. (There are so many people needing sleep studies that the lab books months in advance.)

My room at the sleep lab

When I finally arrived at the clinic last Thursday night, I thought I was ready. I brought sleep clothes, a toothbrush, even a bagel, and some almonds. I was shown to my room.

What I was not prepared for was that Jill, the technician assigned to me, had a talking disorder and spewed words endlessly. Even when it was time for bed.

Jill explained every last detail, repeatedly, as she connected sensors to every part of my body.

She went too far, saying that one sensor, down by my ankle, was to detect "arousal"; she meant restless leg syndrome, but it didn't come out right. At all. 

After that awkward comment, she told me she was experiencing hot flashes and needed to step back a moment. She then fanned herself.

When I was finally wired to the max and ready to get to the business of sleep, she was still talking. I had to tell her, “I would like to sleep now,” and she grudgingly left the room, still talking.

When I woke up, as I expected, around 1 am, I told Jill over the monitor that I had to use the restroom. She escorted me to its door and droned on – even though she did not, as I feared, follow me in.

I eventually tuned her out, just as I tune out the barrage of questions from my former podiatrist and my current hair stylist. Some people are uncomfortable with silence; for others, constant chatting and questioning is a form of passive aggression. 

Luckily, I only needed to clock six hours for clinical observation and insurance purposes.

Outside the sleep lab

I got out of there as soon as I could, by 4:45 am. Jill was still talking as I left the clinic.

It is 3:10 a.m. as I write this. I have not yet received my results, and hopefully the remedies. It takes 2-4 weeks to receive the results.

While wide awake, I am grateful for my home, my desk, my laptop, my dogs, Joe, and, most of all, not having Jill yapping at me.

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