After I changed into my pajamas, technicians attached electrodes and belts to my chest, head, and ankles to measure my heart rate, breathing, brain activity, and eye and leg movements. Equipment ran up and down my body, and multicolored wires dangled from my head, making me feel like a lab rat. Luckily, no one I knew could see me.
When I got into bed, a technician on an intercom asked me to blink and make snoring sounds to ensure that they could observe me properly. Then a technician attached oxygen monitors to my nose and mouth, a pulse monitor to my forefinger, and the monitoring box (containing all of my wires) to the wall. As he left, the lights went out, and although the wires were a bit uncomfortable, I drifted off to sleep easier than expected.
Lying on my back isn't my usual position, but I'd been told that it would ensure proper results. I slept that way until 5:30 a.m., when I needed to use the bathroom. As instructed, I buzzed for help, and a technician came to undo and then reconnect some monitors. Around 7 a.m., another technician woke me and removed my equipment. I was a bit tired, but I'd survived.
Getting my results
Once my test results came back the following week, Dr. Burschtin told me that my sleep study showed intermittent sleep apnea and teeth grinding. To demonstrate, he turned on my audio, and I heard the familiar sound of my father snoring in the living room. Was that really me? My charts showed that my breathing plateaued before I snored, which led to awakenings. I saw on the video that I stirred for a few seconds, which meant that I wasn't getting a completely restful night. I wasn't really surprised—it confirmed what my wife had been telling me—but it was worse than I'd expected, and I felt bad for waking her up so often!
Dr. Burschtin said my sleep apnea was mild, according to my respiratory disturbance index, which was based on the frequency of my airway obstructions, airflow reductions, and breathing increases. If I'd had more than 45 respiratory arousals per hour, my sleep apnea would have been considered severe, but I'd had only about 23. My treatment options were a CPAP mask, a dental appliance, nasal steroids, or an appointment with an otolaryngologist. Dr. Burschtin recommended the dental appliance, which was a relief.
Overall, my experience went better than anticipated. I was glad to learn that my apnea isn't severe and I don't need a CPAP. I'm hopeful that soon I can get a dental appliance that's covered by insurance, and that it will help me—and my wife—sleep more soundly.
My Night in the Lab: What a Sleep Study Really Feels Like
Eric Fields, an attorney living in Hartsdale, N.Y., finally gets answers about his poor sleep and disruptive snoring
Last Updated: July 30, 2008
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