Snorkeling

I've inherited (earned?) the right to use a CPAP. I had a sleep study done about two months ago and it found that while I have mild sleep apnea, I snore like a fucking buzzsaw.

This was not news to either Debbie or Bridget, who usually rooms with me at conferences.

The combination of the two, apnea and snoring, mean I arouse myself out of sleep at least 15 times/hour, enough to earn me a CPAP machine. Level 12, for those who know.

It's roughly like sleeping with a vacuum hose attached to your face. My sister calls it a snorkel. Apparently my brother-in-law opted for the surgical correction, something he regrets and tries to convince anyone he can NOT to have.

It feels fucking weird. You can't open your mouth to talk, even breathe, because the forced air that's meant for your nose (I have a nasal mask, not full face), rushes out of your mouth and aside from the odd feeling, it makes talking nearly impossible. I'm sure more experienced CPAP users can have complete conversations while it's running, but this is my first week. No machine can shut me up for long, though.

Debbie's first comment the morning after my first night, "Quiet night."
I simply replied, "You're welcome."

Complaints and weirdness aside, I have never slept better in my life. I actually wake up feeling rested, something I haven't truly felt in years. I'm tired at times, but I know it's from staying up late, it's a different kind of tired, and not feeling physically and mentally exhausted for no tangible reason. One cup of coffee actually wakes me up, not the 2 or 3 or more that I tended to chug during the day.

Long live the vacuum hose.