Showing posts with label snoring. Show all posts
Showing posts with label snoring. Show all posts

September 29, 2015

Do you saw logs at night?

     Do you snore?
     Wait.    
     Go ask someone who really knows. 
     Many snorers are in denial about their sawing pulpwood at night.  I know.  I was.  If someone asked me whether I snored, I’d retort: “Who, me?  Of course not.”  My family knew better.  Maybe that’s why they gave me one of those we-care-about-you gifts for my 60th birthday. At first, I was leery.  Now, almost seven years later, I am grateful for their insistence and thoughtfulness.
     “You want me to do what?  Go where?”  I argued. “Why Minnesota when there’s a Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville?”  I was destined for Rochester—up in cold country—like it or not.  Our younger son, Eric, piped up, “And I’ll go with you.”  I told him that I could manage alone.  That’s when he laughed and said, “But you know, Dad, the world headquarters of Cabela’s is only about 40 miles away from Mayo’s mothership.”
     An internist, a Hillary Clinton look-alike, got to know me well, snapping on latex gloves to lead my three-day physical exam.  While she explored places that I wished she hadn’t, Eric was exploring acres of outdoor gear.  Hunting, fishing, hiking, camping or whatever, Cabela’s has it.
     “Doc Clinton” and her associates discovered several things.  I was younger—health-wise—than my birth certificate indicated.  They found a .20-gauge birdshot pellet lodged between two of my ribs.  I had forgotten about that 1964 hunting accident with Pete Hires and Randall Bramblett.  But most of all they advised, “You probably have sleep apnea.  You need to be tested.”
     Sleep apnea can lead to serious issues. Mayo’s warning included possible side effects such as stroke, high blood pressure, heart attack, chronic sleepiness, morning headaches, and, yep, snoring.  They explained snoring is a probable signal for “obstructive sleep apnea.” Your body and brain need the right amount of oxygen.  If airflow is blocked to your lungs—while sleeping—bad things happen.
     Back in Georgia, technicians attached an assortment of wires to me and instructed, “Sleep,” while they observed. Doc Clinton was right.  If I wanted to live to be a sure-enough old man, I had to address my sleep disorder.  A customary corrective device is a Continuous Positive Airway Pressure (CPAP) machine.  My doctor prescribed one.